Tuesday: A Good Hostess Who: Cordelia and Noah When: Evening Where: Cordy's house!
When she'd received the call from Noah, Cordelia was at work, finishing up a few proofs for a family with a newborn she'd just photographed. She had been busy, so the phone call was brief, but by the time they hung up, they had plans for dinner and Cordelia would be cooking. She had been to his boat several times, and he'd only been to her house once, when he'd picked her up and dropped her off on their first date. Cordy was looking forward to cooking for someone besides herself, and hey, he'd get to meet Pepper, right?
After work, Cordelia drove home, let the dog outside and then changed from her work clothes into a simple green sundress and then started the lasagna. It was a simple dish, one her mom cooked at least once a week for the two of them, so Cordelia knew the recipe like the back of her hand. She put it into the over, made a salad and buttered some garlic bread before letting Pepper back in the house and feeding him. The weather was pretty crappy, but warm enough that she left the french doors open in the back of the house anyway, since it wasn't raining into the house.
Once she finished, Cordelia pulled the elastic band from her hair, letting it fall in waves over her shoulders, since Noah seemed to enjoy it down. It was a nice night to just do something simple, and she was definitely anticipating the company.
Noah had been antsy all day, and not particularly focused when it came to his writing. He'd gone for a run not long after he'd gotten up, rain be damned, thinking it might help him to feel less restless. It had helped a little, but not enough for him to really bust pages the way he did sometimes. He couldn't have put into words exactly what was bothering him if he'd had to, but it had to do with the previous night and how he couldn't help but feel that he'd taken advantage of Taryn. She was undeniably beautiful and friendly, a good conversationalist... but she was simply way too young for him to feel comfortable getting closer to her, even if she was nineteen as she claimed. What was he going to do, ask to see her driver's license? That would be rude, even if it might've put him at ease a little.
Maybe the answer was to spend some time with someone he knew he was attracted to both physically and mentally; thus, he'd called Cordy to see if she wanted to get together. That had resulted in a dinner invitation, which he was pleased about. He'd left the boat and headed out of the marina, pleased that the rain had stopped finally. Along the way, he'd spotted a sidewalk vendor selling flowers, and he'd been unable to resist the predictable standby of showing up at a girl's door with a bouquet. Cordy would probably think it was amusing, at least.
Once he arrived there, he knocked, flowers in hand, a little smirk on his face.
Cordy was placing the bowl of salad on the dining room table when she heard Noah knock at the front door. The table was more or less set. It wasn't a romantic setting or anything, and she'd resisted lighting the candles in the center for that reason alone. But it was cozy and that was just as good, in her opinion. Pepper barked only once, announcing the visitor before he ran to the sofa and crawled under the coffee table.
"Coward," Cordelia said to him as she passed Pepper to the front door. After unlocking it, she pulled it open, pausing in her greeting when she saw the flowers. Lifting a brow, Cordelia's smile was one of amusement as she stepped back to let Noah enter the house. "I'm trying to figure out if the flowers are for me for simply being as awesome as I am, or if you're about to give me really bad news."
Somehow, Noah had known she'd be entertained by his grand gesture. "C'mon, I know it's cheesy, but I walked by a guy sellin' them and thought they were pretty." He offered them to her with an exaggerated bow. "But not as pretty as you," he added, waggling his eyebrows. "I can't think of any bad news I have, 'cept the weather here sucks-- but you already knew that-- so we'll say they're because you're awesome." He thought the flowers were particularly pretty, actually, in vivid hues of white, purple and yellow. He thought of the purple as a color that would look nice with her hair, for some reason.
"They're gorgeous," Cordelia said, reaching out to take them from Noah. "And I love them even more now that I know they're because of my extreme awesomeness." She turned to take them into the kitchen, assuming Noah would just come inside and shut the door behind him. "Let me put these in water and then I'll give you the grand tour. Not that there's much to see, but you showed me around your boat, so I figured it's only fair." Pepper scurried out from underneath the coffee table to follow Cordy into the kitchen. She glanced down at the dog and then smiled at Noah over her shoulder. "Oh, right, and I got a dog, in case you didn't see him trembling under the coffee table like a baby."
Noah followed her in, shutting the door as he did. He was mildly startled to see the dog, because he hadn't known she had one. "Oh, new friend, huh?" he said. "I guess he's not an attack dog, then." He wondered what the animal would think if he shifted into a similar-sized dog in order to play with it. The thought amused him. "Grand tour sounds good," he added. "Your house has gotta be bigger than my boat." It took all of about a minute and a half to show people around, there. He was happy living there, and he guessed that was what mattered.
"Well, I thought it would be good to get a dog... someone to come home to at night, right? And hey, even better to warn me of any possible intruders? Only he runs and hides at the sound of the door most of the time, so I'm guessing guard dog is off the table." Cordelia opened up a cabinet beneath the sink to pull out one of her glass vases. She began to fill it with water, holding her flowers in her free hand. Smiling still, because they were beautiful and smelled lovely, Cordelia looked at Noah again. "My house is a little bit bigger than your boat, yes. Honestly, I probably don't need this much space, but every time I talk myself into selling it, I somehow talk myself back out of it." She turned off the water and set the vase on the counter to set the flowers inside of it. "I hope lasagna is all right?"
"Yeah, that could be tricky," Noah said of the dog's behavior. "Do you think he'd bite a robber if they did break in?" He hoped she hadn't gotten the animal intending for it to be a guard dog, because that would certainly be disappointing. If she just wanted companionship, it sounded like she'd be all set, at least. "Looks like a great house, from what I've seen of it so far," he told her, watching as she prepared the vase for the flowers he'd brought. "If you sold it, where would you go then, ya know?" He leaned against the counter, casually hooking his fingers in the belt loops of his jeans. He'd worn his one pair of nice ones, at least. No holes. "I love lasagna," he said in reply to her question. "It smells great in here."
Cordelia shook her head. "I haven't had him long enough to figure that out yet. Hopefully I'll never find out, but you never know." Having a guard dog was just a bonus, really. She liked Pepper, and the dog seemed to like her back, so that's all she wanted for the moment. With the flowers set, Cordy lifted the vase to carry it to the dining room table right outside the kitchen so she could set it in the middle. "This was my mom's house," she explained. "I suppose if I sold it, I would move into a smaller apartment. But then I would probably go crazy from the lack of space, so who knows? I don't know what I would do with all this stuff anyway, other than sell it off, and then I would suffer from massive guilt." Turning, she smiled at Noah and walked over to take his hand so she could show him the rest of the house. "I'll show you the upstairs first. Not that there's much to see, but you can still ooh and aah if you'd like."
"He looks like a fine critter," Noah said. "Maybe a little skittish, but I bet he'll warm up." It was a little bit amusing that she'd gotten hold of a dog that was scared of everything. He smiled at her comments about going crazy from lack of space if she moved out of here. "Yeah, I get that. I never would've thought I could live somewhere like the boat, but I love it. Minimalist is an acquired taste." He had more things than he could fit on the boat, of course, but they were all neatly packed into one of the spare rooms at his mother's house, up the coast. That way he'd have them if he had more space at some later date. When Cordy approached him and took his hand for the grand tour, he leaned in and kissed her. Nothing wrong with a friendly greeting, right? "Up we go," he agreed, swinging their linked hands between them.
"Minimalist is good," Cordelia said with a smile. "I like minimalists." She returned his kiss, squeezing his fingers with her own. Boy, he smelled nice. But didn't he always? Cordelia tugged Noah along after her, leading him to the stairs. Upstairs, the hall was nothing special. The walls had framed photographs Cordelia had taken since college, and several of she and her parents. There was a small table against the wall with a couple decorative vases. "Speaking of your boat, in an indirect way, how's your writing coming? Did you make any significant progress? I figured you sunk into the writing after our texts on Friday."
Noah thought the house was nice, at least what he'd seen of it thus far. There seemed to be attention to the smallest details, like the photos and the decorative vases; it was those things that made a person's house seem like home, he thought. "I had a total lost weekend with the writing," he told her when she asked. "Didn't surface 'til yesterday afternoon. Haven't had much luck today, but I did so well over the weekend, that's okay." He squeezed her hand lightly as he waited for the next stop on the tour. "Did you do anything exciting this weekend? Besides I guess getting a dog?"
"Sounds like a pretty good weekend then." Being productive, especially when it came to one's craft, was ten times better than getting out and going to a club, or wasting away the hours doing absolutely nothing. Although there were certainly days for that kind of thing too. "As for me, I didn't do much. Obviously I got a dog. I had a wedding Saturday afternoon and into the night to shoot, and then I spent most of Sunday developing the photographs for the bride, although she won't be back to see them until next week. I don't know if you would consider work to be exciting or not, but I had a good time. This," she said as she pushed open her bedroom, "is my lovely room. I know, you're in awe, right?" Her room was the master bedroom, and she spent a lot of her time in there when she wasn't in her work room. There was plenty of space, a master bath off to the left and double doors that led out to a tiny balcony overlooking her backyard. Perfect for sunny days, and even rainy evenings. It was definitely a feminine room, with whites and soft blues, but nothing overly girly or pink. The last thing she ever wanted was to be stuck in a room that resembled Pepto Bismal.
"Yep, it was good," Noah agreed. He loved losing himself in the story, complete immersion, for hours and hours. It would be a supremely selfish pursuit if that wasn't how he made his living; as it was, he felt very fortunate. "I think my work's exciting," he replied, "and from everything you've said, you feel that way about yours, too. If you're havin' a good time with what you do, that's what matters." He glanced around as she led him into her room. "Total awe. D'you know this room is like, five times bigger than mine? I think I could get lost." He smirked unrepentantly at her. "It's nice," he said. "I especially like the balcony. Must be nice to just leave the doors open when the weather's good enough." He liked having the tiny windows in his boat up, so he could hear the ocean as well as feel it rock him from side to side. There was nothing like nature, in his opinion.
Cordelia looked at him. "Sometimes my work is exciting. Depends on what I'm dealing with on any given day." Even on her worst days though, she was thankful for having a job she enjoyed ninety nine percent of the time. Releasing his hand, Cordy placed her hands on her hips as she glanced around her bedroom. "Yes, it's big. The balcony is really nice in the summer, although when we get hit with really bad storms sometimes I'm afraid it's going to tear right off the side of the house. I used to hate it when I was younger though. I always thought if I got too close to the edge, I'd fall over. Looking down now, it doesn't seem that bad, but when you're eight, it's like the Grand Canyon. My work room is right across the hall." She turned to motion toward the door. "If you want to see it."
"Seems like this place gets hit with really bad storms a lot," Noah observed. "Bet that was scary when you were a kid, too." It was funny how everything seemed so much bigger and grander when you were small, and then once you grew up, you wondered why you'd found it so imposing. He'd felt that way about one of the houses where he, his mom and brother had lived for a while, as well as the church she'd taken them to occasionally. Strange, but he guessed everyone had experienced it to some degree. "Sure, let's see the work room," he said with a smile, following her.
"I suppose if you've grown up here, the weather is pretty normal, where it tends to surprise people who are visiting, or recently moved here." Cordelia brushed her hand against Noah's arm, leading him out of her bedroom and across the short hall to her work room. This was where she spent most of her time, and it showed. There was a large oak table that held her laptop, papers and folders. Photographs were scattered about, many pinned up on the wall. The photographs on the walls were ones she'd taken over the years that she kept. Different areas of Darkwater, people she knew, like Corwin and her co-workers. There was even a photograph of Noah, from the beach the first morning she met him. "It's a mess," she said with an apologetic smile. "I'm, uh, sometimes I'm more organized than this. Looking at it now, I probably look like a crazy person with things pinned up everywhere."
"Oh, it was a surprise, all right," Noah said amiably enough. He'd become used to the tempestuous weather that could be found here, and in a strange way he actually liked it. It was dramatic, and sometimes it even gave him inspiration for his writing. He moved across to the work room with her and glanced around approvingly when they reached it. "No, no, this is great," he said. "I don't trust people whose work areas are too neat. Shows a lack of creative flair, ya know? The pictures're awesome." He moved around so he could look at them, smiling as he recognized Corwin and then himself. They were the only people he knew out of those pictured, but then that wasn't surprising. Relatively speaking, he hadn't lived here all that long.
The weather in Darkwater came with the territory, Cordy supposed. The strange occurrences were never limited to just abrupt and unpredictable weather changes. She and Noah were proof of that, she being a mage and Noah being a shifter. Cordy had always imagined some towns were positioned to attract more supernatural elements than others. Darkwater being one of them. She followed him into the room and smiled, glancing around at her work. "Thanks. I'm usually only organized when it comes to working on clients' photographs. When it's my own? Well, you can see what I do with them." She walked over to the small closet and slid it open, revealing several shelves inside full of photo albums. "I've been taking pictures since I was a freshman in high school. For some reason I've kept all of them. I have no idea what I would ever do with them, but hell, if anything I can bring them to my twenty year reunion and embarrass everyone."
"Hey, I like that idea," Noah said of her bringing embarrassing photos to her twenty year reunion. "Nothin' like a little embarrassment to keep people humble." He chuckled. "Maybe we can do some outtakes on my author photo... ya know, me with my finger up my nose, or making horrible faces. Then you can save 'em in case you need to blackmail me one day." He thought it might be cool sometime to pull out some of those albums and look at them, if Cordy wanted to share them, but considering that she'd cooked dinner, now wouldn't be the time to start up with that.
Laughing, Cordelia shut the closet. "Nah, I think I could come up with better ways of blackmailing you if I really wanted to." Reaching out for his hand to lead him back to the hall, Cordelia figured dinner was almost ready. "Come on... I don't want the lasagna to burn. The other two rooms are more or less empty. Well, one is empty. The other has some stuff I brought home from college still in boxes. Clearly I'm a little behind on completely unpacking. What would you like to drink? I've got iced tea, beer, wine, some soda..."
"I'm sure you could," Noah said, highly amused by that thought. He linked his fingers in hers and added, "It smells too good to let it burn." He followed her out, nodding at what she'd said. "Well, ya know, if you have extra rooms you're not using, why not take your time?" It was what he would've done if he hadn't lived in a boat and had to be sure that he was using every millimeter of space wisely. As far as what he wanted to drink, he said, "How about beer? Unless it's too low-class to drink beer with lasagna." He was joking, because he thought that beer went with just about everything.
"There's not many things I can cook well, but lasagna is one of them," Cordelia said, leading him downstairs again. "And beer is most definitely acceptable to have with pasta. I think I'm going to have one too." She released him once they were in the kitchen because she had to check the lasagna. "They're in the fridge if you want to grab a couple? As for the rooms, I know I have time. I feel a little bad, letting the space go to waste. I've thought about getting a roommate to help with the expenses of the house, but I like my privacy and I'm afraid it would be tough to live with someone else, you know?"
"I can't wait to try it," Noah said of the lasagna. The only thing he liked as well as really good seafood-- like Peterman's-- was Italian food. Once in the kitchen, he made his way over to the fridge to grab the beers she'd requested, happy enough to make himself at home. Once he'd gotten them out, he set them on the counter and leaned against it, nodding as she spoke. "Oh yeah, I know," he said when she said she liked her privacy and might find it hard to live with a roommate. "I've never lived with anyone 'cept my family-- my mom and my brother-- and I dunno how well I'd like it, myself. You get used to doin' things your own way, having everything like you like it."
Cordelia opened the oven and slipped on the blue oven mitt to pull the shelf out. God, it smelled good! That was definitely a good sign. "Definitely. I start thinking about someone moving in, bringing their things, changing around furniture, or adding their own paintings or decoration. I know it sounds so selfish of me, but it starts giving me the shakes." Laughing, Cordelia straightened to grab the oven mitt, now that she could see the lasagna was finished. "I begin to wonder what I'm going to be like if I ever get married, or become serious enough with someone to have them move in. It's terrifying, but I don't want to be one of those girlfriends who make their boyfriends hide all their crap in the basement or garage. Maybe I can just get married and maintain separate residences." She grinned and set the lasagna pan on the oven to set. "I think your boat is far too small for a roommate anyway, so you're safe there."
"There's nothin' wrong with avoiding something that's not gonna work for you," Noah replied. "People can like other people well enough and still not want a roommate." Her philosophy sounded a lot like his own, really. He needed to have quiet and no distractions when he wanted to sink deeply into his writing, and a roommate would not be conducive to that at all. "I've thought about that, too," he admitted, cracking open his beer and taking a swig. "I guess it's a little weird to be as old as I am and to have never lived with a woman... I mean, it's not like I'm savin' myself for marriage." He snickered. "I just think it'd ruin everything. I like to preserve the mystery." In his opinion, there could be too much togetherness. "Hey, what about livin' in a duplex? That way you could have your own place and still have frequent conjugal visits or whatever." He grinned.
"Definitely." She tugged the oven mitts off, talking as she went to the knife block to get a knife to cut the lasagna. The salad and bread was already on the dining room table. She briefly considered turning on some music, if he would want the background noise. "I don't think it's strange that you've never lived with a woman. I'm the same age, more or less, and I've never lived with a man. It's just one of those things, you know?" If she found someone she fell in love with, things might change, but as it was, Cordelia had only been in love once, and she had been young enough at the time that living together had never been a viable option. She pulled the foil off the pan and grabbed the oven mitt again, smiling at Noah. "A duplex? Wow. I never thought of that. Or maybe he could buy a house across from me? That way after the conjugal visits, I could just cross the street and do my own thing. What about you? Maybe your girl can get a boat at the marina too."
"Yeah... I guess I have an excuse, kinda," Noah said, his beer bottle held loosely in one hand. "I'm a reclusive writer, gotta create and keep weird hours." He knew that was a handy excuse for anything, really, and quite possibly a selfish way to live. At this point in his life, he didn't mind it, though. He was relatively young and had no encumbrances, so why not do what he wanted? He didn't think he'd ever been seriously in love, anyway. He was more of a good-time sort of guy most of the time. He smirked at her for her questions and replied, "A house across from you works, too. And yeah, a boat would work, I guess. Maybe one day I'll meet a reclusive female writer who can actually sail a boat. How 'bout that?" He was kidding, of course. "Need help carryin' anything?" he asked.
"Watch it," she warned playfully as she cut the lasagna into squares. "Eventually you'll find a woman who won't find that to be a valid excuse at all. And those women can be quite persistent." Cordelia glanced at the counter and shook her head. "If you can just bring the beers into the dining room, I can carry this. Everything else is in there. I've got Italian bread and a caesar salad, so I hope that's all right." She set the knife to the side and then grabbed pot holders to lift the pan to carry it in with them. "I will have to believe in fate if you ever meet a reclusive female writer on a boat. You'd have it all. Your privacy, space, someone to talk to with the occasional sex? Talk about a perfect situation."
The thought of persistent women made him think of Taryn, but he wasn't about to get into that. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he said. "It'd be just my luck to get some stalker chick who camped out on the deck of my boat or somethin'." He picked up her beer along with his and pushed off from the counter when she said she didn't need help carrying anything else. He followed her to the dining room, chuckling at her theory about fate and his hypothetical female writer. "Perfect, and not likely to happen," he said, not sounding all that perturbed about it. "But ya know, I'm not sure I'm into things bein' too perfect. Because there's no challenge in that, right?"
She placed the lasagna pan on the wood trivets and then set the pot holders to the side before motioning for Noah to sit. She'd have to send some leftovers home with him, because there was no way they would both eat all the lasagna in one sitting. "I'm always up for a challenge," she agreed. "Honestly, I don't think there's such a thing as a perfect mate out there. I think there's compatibility but that only takes you so far. Sometimes I try to think of the perfect guy for me? And everything I come up with ends up sounding really boring." Cordelia grabbed the bread basket and offered it to him. "Like, if I met another photographer? Great, we would have something in common to talk about, but then... you know, we pretty much know what the other is talking about, and you don't learn anything new."
Noah seated himself and took the offered bread basket, snagging a couple pieces of the bread to put on his plate before passing it back. "There's a lot of factors involved," he said. "Compatibility, attraction, things in common..." He paused, his eyebrows lifting slightly. "Not boring each other to death." That was a big one in his opinion. "Havin' too much in common's not necessarily good," he agreed. "Like, I like hearing about your photography 'cause that's something I don't know much about. Hopefully you're cool hearing a little bit about my writing." She hadn't seemed to be completely bored, anyway. "I like learnin' new things."
Cordelia took a piece of bread and set it on her plate before nudging the salad bowl in his direction. She had Ranch and Italian dressing on the table, since those were the only two dressings she actually preferred. "I would say not boring each other to death is probably the biggest one," Cordelia agreed with a smile. "And I'm completely cool with hearing about your writing. I think writing a novel is one of those things everyone wishes they could do, but only a handful ever really do it, and even less than that ever do it well. If I knew it wouldn't completely annoy you, I could probably spend hours picking your brain about the whole process."
"Ranch dressing," Noah said approvingly. "My favorite dressing in life, how'd you know?" He dished himself out some salad and doused it with the stuff; he tended to like a bit of salad with his dressing. He smiled when she said she could spend hours picking his brain and joked, "I could think of better ways for us to spend hours, but okay. I'll give you the full writing lecture sometime, and you can show me how to develop photos. That'd be awesome to see." Not everyone got to see the whole process from start to finish; he thought it would be fascinating.
"I don't know," she joked, "you sort of struck me as the Ranch dressing kind of guy, so I took a chance." Cordelia put some salad on her plate before reaching over to carefully get a piece of lasagna for Noah. She couldn't remember the last time she'd shared a home cooked meal with a man she was sleeping with. Or slept with, considering it had only happened once. She cooked for Corwin, and some friends, but this felt different. In a nice way. "Well, we can always prioritize how we spend our time together. Sex first, obviously, and then if we feel up to it, we can devote a few hours to our hobbies. I'd love to show you the process of what I do. But does that mean I get some spoilers from your novel?"
Noah couldn't remember the last time he'd had a home-cooked meal with a woman he was into, and he thought it was really nice. "Thanks," he said when she served him a piece of lasagna. It smelled delicious, and he couldn't wait to dig in. He gave her an amused look and quirked his eyebrows as he said, "Obviously. I bet we could manage some time for the hobbies, too, though." He took a swig from his beer and then began cutting into his lasagna. "If you really want 'em, sure," he said of spoilers. "You might not wanna read the book then, though, if you know what's gonna happen." Sometimes his books could be so convoluted in terms of plot and pacing that said spoilers might not make sense, anyway.
"Of course I would want to read it," Cordelia countered. "Maybe you can just give me little hints. Like... a major plot point. The body count? Something that won't give everything away." She got her own piece of lasagna and began to eat after placing a napkin on her lap. She could just imagine dropping a large forkful of sauce and noodles onto her dress. "See, sadly, I'm someone who will still see a movie, even if someone ruins it for me. The Sixth Sense? I already knew Bruce Willis was dead when I sat down and watched it. Still loved the movie though. So I'm glad I didn't miss out on it. Same goes for books." She reached out for her beer to wash down a piece of bread. "Honestly, maybe if I were more cultured, I'd have a different view on it. But I like being entertained, first and foremost, even if I know the outcome."
"Vague spoilers," Noah said. "I can roll with that." Some people wanted to know every little detail, and he didn't like to do that, because yeah, why would they want to read it then? He wasn't a major egotist, but he liked to think that he could tell a compelling story, and completely outlining them for people left him cold. He was relieved that she didn't seem to want that. He took his first couple of bites of lasagna and said, "This is incredible. Just so you know." When she mentioned The Sixth Sense, he chuckled and said, "Now see, I didn't see that twist comin' at all. I watched the whole thing and then I was like, what the hell? It made more sense watchin' a second time." He didn't mind being spoiled for things, but it was better when he wasn't, most of the time. "Pfft, who needs to be cultured?" he said, waving his fork over his plate for emphasis. "I think we non-cultured people have more fun, anyway."
Cordelia simply smiled at his compliment about her food, although admittedly she felt a bit of relief that he liked it. She knew that not everyone's palates were the same and just because she enjoyed her mother's lasagna recipe didn't mean other people would. "I don't mind watching movies twice," she said, cutting into her lasagna for another piece. "Especially ones that blow your mind at the end. I don't know, I just like mindless entertainment sometimes! Silly movies that are all special effects and no plot. It's nice not to have to think every now and then." She laughed and nodded along with his assessment. "Yes, I think you're right. I've got a stereotypical image of cultured people being snooty and stuck up. Which is probably wrong of me, but there it is."
"Me either," Noah said of watching movies twice. "Twice or more, if I really like 'em. I'm like that with books, too. I read 'em over and over." He was having to make a conscious effort not to eat too fast; inhaling food was never an attractive quality. The lasagna was excellent, though. He put his fork down and picked up his beer again. "Mindless entertainment's great," he agreed. "I guess I like a combination. Stuff that makes you think and stuff that doesn't." He smirked at her. "Well, nobody'll ever accuse me of being cultured. I never know which wine goes best with what or what fork to use." He was more the beer type than the champagne type, and he was fine with that.
"Wow, I had no clue you were a redneck," Cordelia teased. "Everyone knows which fork to use." She liked wine, herself, but she never studied a menu, trying to pair it up with her entree when she went out. If it said Merlot, she usually ordered it, depending on which restaurant she went to. "We should go to the movies sometime," she continued, picking through her meal with her fork. "Catch some of that mindless entertainment together. Sneak in some uncultured beers and watch some pointless explosions and bad dialogue. Maybe it would prove to be some amazing inspiration for your next novel."
Noah laughed. "I just don't see the sense in havin' more than one kind of fork. What's the point?" He picked up his own fork again for another bite of lasagna. "If that makes me a redneck, I'll own that." Redneck, semi-successful writer who lived on a boat. He could live with that. "Movies are some of the best entertainment there is," he replied when she said they should go. "I could be down with that. Important question, though: does it bother you when somebody talks all through the movie? 'Cause I do that." Especially if it was mindless entertainment with explosions and a plethora of bad dialogue.
"Having more than one kind of fork makes you feel important, of course." She held up her own in a snooty manner, waving it around. "Clearly I am so wealthy and so cultured that I don't dare let my salad fork contaminate my entree. Do I look like a savage?" She dropped the snooty tone and shrugged with a smile. "That's how I always pictured it anyway." Cordelia went back to eating her lasagna, since it was clear she was going to completely clear the plate. At his question, she glanced up with a thoughtful look before shaking her head. "Is it like, talking like we're talking? Or leaning in and whispering our commentary to one another?"
"I feel important even if I'm eatin' with my fingers," Noah joked. "So maybe I'm a savage." He liked how he and Cordy could just banter about anything and everything. That was much better than worrying about making conversation or that they might run out of things to talk about. He was making short work of his lasagna, as well, and wondering if it'd be gauche to ask for a second helping once he was done with his first. To her question, he replied, "More like leanin' in and whispering, I guess. Not loud, obnoxious talking." Somehow he just didn't enjoy a movie nearly as much if he had to stay completely silent during it.
"So next time I'll make chicken wings, so we can both use our fingers and feel superior to all of those fork wielding snots," she replied with a laugh. Cordelia was rarely one to run out of things to say. It didn't take much to make conversation. Sure, some conversation was more stilted than others, but that was all right. It was a hell of a lot better than awkward silence. None of which she had felt with Noah yet. It helped that he seemed to have the same sense of humor that she did. "I'm all for whispering. Unless the movie is really awful, than we can talk as loudly as we want and see if we can get kicked out of the theater." She smirked and reached over for another piece of bread. "Never say I'm not a rebel."
"Chicken wings and maybe some of those pizza roll things," Noah said, grinning at her. "Anything you don't need a fork to eat. Sounds like a good plan for our next dinner." He didn't feel strange assuming they'd get together again, because they got along great. As far as he could tell, they'd gotten past the semi-awkward stage when two people didn't know each other all that well. He ate the rest of his bread and poised his fork to dig into his lasagna again, arching his eyebrows at her. "I definitely see rebel qualities in you. You might have other people fooled, but not me." She could come across as demure and sweet sometimes, certainly, but that wasn't all there was to her.
Nodding, Cordelia sipped her beer to wash down the food before nudging his foot playfully under the table. "You got it. Next time expect chicken wings and pizza rolls." Wouldn't that be fun and easy? To just throw some frozen food on a baking pan and toss it into the oven? It really didn't matter what they ate. The fact of the matter was that they were having a good time. Or at least, she was. She couldn't speak for Noah, but he wasn't sitting there drooling from boredom, so that was something. Smirking softly, Cordelia set her beer bottle back on the table. "I've got a lot of people fooled, yes. Is anyone ever going to believe that there's anymore than just a sweet disposition beneath this lovely face?"
"It's probably my turn to host next time," Noah said, smirking at her. "You haven't lived 'til you've had pizza rolls cooked in a little bitty microwave oven. We can picnic out on the deck. Bet I could even find a red and white checked cloth somewhere." It didn't matter to him what they did, either. He enjoyed just hanging out with her, talking about any number of random things. It amused him to think about them sitting on the deck of his boat with a picnic and maybe even a votive candle, if the damned wind didn't blow it out almost immediately. "Well, they might, they might not," he said in reply to her question. "I know there's a ragin' volcano of hotness under there." He looked smug as he popped another bite of lasagna into his mouth.
"See, I'm already dreaming of an evening on your boat, surrounded by the stars, the water... and a plate full of pizza rolls." Cordelia brought her napkin up to wipe at her mouth. Actually, it did sound pretty great. She wasn't a girl who expected much, like fancy dates and expensive food. She had always preferred casual things, where she could be herself and not worry about what she was wearing, or if she would spill something on herself. Something told her that if she dropped pizza rolls in her lap, Noah would just laugh at her. She set her napkin to the side and picked up her beer to finish it off, one eyebrow arched in contemplation as she studied him with a small smirk. "A raging volcano of hotness. Honestly, I think that's the best compliment I've ever had a man give me in my life. For what it's worth," Cordelia added, "you're not so bad yourself."
"Play your cards right and I'll make chicken nuggets, too," Noah cracked. Not that chicken nuggets turned out all that great in the microwave-- he'd tried-- but there was always McDonald's. He'd just shoveled in the last couple of bites of his lasagna, and he reached for his napkin to wipe his own mouth. That had been quite delicious. "So a boat picnic it is." He had no doubt that he and Cordy could manage to have fun if they didn't do anything but picnic and maybe listen to some music on his satellite radio. He sat back in his chair a little, reaching for his own beer and giving her a mildly flirty look in return for her arched eyebrow. "It's the absolute truth. And thank you, I try." That night on his boat was among his hottest memories at this point, really.
Laughing, Cordelia lifted a hand to her face. "Chicken nuggets? Hell, don't make them. Save yourself some trouble and just go through the McDonald's drive thru. Come on, Noah, loosen the purse strings a little." They could be eating from a bag of chips for all Cordelia cared. Hanging out with him on his boat would have been enough for her. The food was just a tiny detail. Had he ever had sex on the deck of his boat? Probably not, considering his neighbors. It was a fun thought though. Cordelia nodded toward the pan of lasagna. "Do you want any more? Just a fair warning, I'm sending some leftovers home with you."
"McDonald's has great nuggets," Noah agreed. "A ton better than the frozen ones, anyway." In college, he'd been a chicken nugget connoisseur. Bad for you, but oh so good. He'd always exercised enough to make up for it, at least. He heaved a sigh and rubbed his stomach when she asked him if he wanted more lasagna. "It was delicious, but I better not. I'm pretty full." He grinned at her. "I'll happily take leftovers. It'll save me a food run sometime when I'm writin' and I don't want to leave the boat." Which happened often; sometimes he skipped a couple of meals entirely when he got on a roll.
"My mom would be appalled with me right now," Cordelia admitted with a grin. "Talking about McDonald's as I ate her lasagna. Blasphemy." Standing, she reached out to take Noah's empty plate so she could carry it into the kitchen. "You'll definitely be getting leftovers. Anything I can do to help prevent a successful writer from starving himself in the midst of a creative burst." It made her feel good that he had finished his plate. Cordelia wasn't the best cook, but she certainly tried. And it was nice to be able to cook for someone else for once.
Noah almost popped out with well, maybe we won't tell her, but fortunately he remembered just in time that Cordy's mom was dead. Yeah, that would've been insensitive. "The lasagna's much better, believe me," he said instead, rising from the table too and picking up their empty beer bottles. Might as well help clear instead of sitting there like a lazy lump. He followed her out to the kitchen and set the bottles down on the counter. He was already thinking about how good that lasagna was going to be heated up; often food was even better the second time around.
"Thanks." She rinsed the dishes off but kept them in the sink. She would clean up and load the dishwasher a bit later. Cordelia smiled at him, thankful for the help. Some guys would have just sat there while she cleaned everything else. She could remember back in college, her boyfriend had cooked her dinner, and then wandered off to watch football afterward, expecting her to clear everything away and do the dishes herself. That was one strike against marriage, in her book, if that was what was awaiting her. Grabbing a dish towel, she wiped her hands before reaching over to slip an arm around Noah's waist, pulling him close. "So what do you think? We could watch a movie, or go for a walk." Reaching up, Cordy slid a hand over his hair. "Or I could show you my bedroom again. I'm not sure if you got to really take in the entire thing on the tour."
Noah was the type of guy who liked to please the ladies in every way, and he'd learned over the years that being helpful in the kitchen and with cleaning up in general was a good way to keep everything harmonious. He was about to offer to go back in and grab some of the food they'd left on the table when she distracted him by putting an arm around him and suggesting other activities. He smiled down at her, feeling warm all over and suddenly glad he'd turned down that second helping. "Well... given those options, I'd have to pick a second bedroom tour. 'Cause I'd hate to have missed anything, ya know? I'd be worryin' about that for the rest of the night if I thought I did." He twined his own fingers into her hair; he hadn't missed that she'd left it down.
"I couldn't let you leave without really getting a good look at my bedroom set," Cordelia said with a solemn nod. She leaned in to press her lips to his. She didn't know if he would stay the night with her or not, because he always had work to do. Cordelia knew she would be pleased if he did, but there would be no major disappointment if he couldn't. Spending time with him just like this was good enough for her. Smiling against his lips, she pulled back slowly and tugged at his shirt gently to lead him out of the kitchen and back to her stairs. Cordy had every intention of keeping him busy for the next few hours. Who said she wasn't a good hostess?