Noah didn't know what to do with the blonde woman in front of him. His new personal assistant Sara still looked like she fell out of the gap. As if she landed directly in front of Noah's workshop with huge gap shopping bags in hand. He gave Sara's presence a wide berth while she asked him questions. He pointed at the answers without making eye contact with her. Sometimes he answered quietly. His hands were dancing, and it just wasn't going well. He wasn't digging his fingers into the flesh of his palm which was good. I'm not sure what it was about her but she wasn't working as his assistant. I trained her on basic tasks that were regular for Noah. But her interaction with him was a complete crash and burn almost every time. I lectured twice to not touch him if she could absolutely avoid it. Everything was in place to make things work. Sara was better situated for Noah's personal assistant job than I was when I started. None of that goodwill meant anything in front of the basic fact that. Her goodwill was a polite hammer that kept breaking the glass. Nope, it really wasn't working.

When you're talking to someone, you'd be shocked to find out how often physical contact is made. Nearly physical contact when someone casually enters your personal space. Even informal conversation might have a handshake. You may stand a little closer to be heard over machinery. When you have to keep track of contacts with someone who might need that, you may never realize how much work that is. Noah can hide that he needs you to go back the fuck up but there are clear signs. Sara is nice, but she'd never been a personal assistant before. It was her first real job, and I had a feeling in the future she could be a great work friend. Possibly even become a good friend to me period but right now... Her natural kindness and girl scout charm weren't working out.

I close my notebook and push my empty mug of water to the side. My day was done working for Sabali and Zoey. They were in Ohio on the tour bus. And that bus was closing in on their concert in Cleveland. I debated going over or just driving off. Noah had not said much to me since the get-together. I use the term get-together loosely. Which resulted in me crying my eyes out. But we finally had the conversation we had been needing for a while. The ball was in his court. If he didn't want to talk to me at all anymore I don't blame him. This is why for the most part I should be doing my job and bounce. It was his choice and if that is his decision then we had our closure. I only need to actually check on the house and mail things out once a week. But traffic to everything associated with Noah, Maurice, Zoey, and Sabali was up. There were even women hanging outside of Maurice's station firehouse. Being the guy next door type Maurice was he didn't realize how hot he was. In a way, Maurice and Noah have that in common but things were changing as their profile in the media grew. Even Maurice who could sing but didn't do much and didn't want to be some famous person was a sex symbol. But I'm not sure what he expects he's a hot firefighter. I did simply a video of him in slow motion doing fire drills that got so much view count it was stupid. Black Kryptonite lives up to his name, and he was out there killing. As more people hang around the more agitated Noah gets with all the unknown traffic. Maybe that's the problem in itself. He sees Sara, not as a Personal Assistant hired to make his life easier but instead more unknown traffic. The unknown was never something Noah dealt with well. Unless the unknown was a great big ocean waiting for him to explore.

Sara tucked her blonde hair behind her ear and took a step in toward Noah into his personal space. Her lips were moving in what I could only guess was a question but she was too close. His hand was moving in that pattern he does sometimes. The meltdown he was hiding from her and if you didn't know Noah you'd not know he was melting down. His sandy blonde hair completely blocks his face and he takes a tiny step back. My stomach tighten as her hand casually touched his shoulder getting his attention.

"Sara," I call out. Her hand stops before it touches him. Peaking through his long hair Noah's erratic ocean eyes watch that hand like a snake. It wasn't something you would notice. He hides some of the things so well when his hair is down. His discomfort could almost go unnoticed unless you knew the signs. Sara turns at the sound of my words behind her. Her hand drops away from Noah. "Can you help me with some of the fan mail?" I ask her with a smile. She brightens up.

"Yes, sure Tari. Do you mind Noah?" She asks him. He shakes his head no, and she heads to the house and the big box of fan mail we have been getting. Odds and ends and also things from companies. It takes hours to go through the boxes sort them take a picture of them and add them to the catalog list. Then I always have to make a response list. It's a lot of work. As she got further away, the door to the house opened and then shut closed.

"I did not need help," Noah said.

"I know you didn't. But Sara did need help." He was handling it. She had no idea how uncomfortable he was and over time they'd have figured it out if I wasn't here. I blew out a big breath. "Really Noah, I knew you could do it. I have so much confidence in you. It was habit." A habit that had been built over a solid year to smooth things over. I couldn't help myself. The need to touch him ground a hole in my chest. A pang of need and that pull that never left me. But again the ball was in Noah's court and he'd set our new normal. As long as I wasn't hurting him anymore I'd deal with it. Causal sex that went nowhere even if it destroyed me. I could do that as long as the kids didn't know about it and didn't get confused. Simple friendship would be hard but I'd love to keep him in my life even if it was only crumbs. As shameless as that sounds I loved Noah thoroughly even if that love hurt sometimes.

He nods at me and heads back out to the boat. The new boat looks more like a whale skeleton than a boat at this point. The pieces of the ancient craft splayed out as haphazardly as my feelings for Noah. As I watched his broad back walk away from my part of me panicked. It was happening again and that infinitesimally ugly part of me that yelled in my mind. It was like the day he left the first time screaming follow.

This time, unlike the last time I went after him. It was like every time with him is like the last time but I wanted to say everything. Maybe he would be mad at me forever which is fine, but I wanted him to know. "I just wanted to say thank you for what you did with the kids. They really wanted to see you again." But instead of stopping at the boat he keeps going walking out towards the lake again. He leaves me at the workshop. Watching him go rip something unnamed from me that I didn't think had left to lose. Like finding at the bottom of the glass a crack where all the water flowed out. Those cups don't ever hold water again.

Noah did something funny stopping just before the last bench of the workshop. He picks up his tool belt. The simple tank top and his sun-kissed tan shoulders were exposed. Then he turns around and heads toward Zoey's house. He passed by me and I was completely stunned. I follow after the long strides of his thick legs in those tight jeans. He stops in front of the door waiting for me. Noah picked up my mug off the table.

Is he pissed? I'm sick of the fucking anger. The conversation was going well however small it was. Sometimes you just need to take the wins. Maybe we can't be friends again but I'd take this professionalism as a win at this point for coexistence. "I wanted to say that before but we," fucked each other's brains out in a sloppy, dirty dick down again and never got a chance. That then ended with him telling me 'He liked me' When I was desperately hoping he'd say he loved me. It sort of rang in my head all time. As if we were two people who high-five sometimes instead of the relationship we had. "We were busy," somehow the words manage to sound limp. It was a weird conversation finishing it out of order.

I followed Noah into the house. He headed for the supplies of kitchen gadgets. Then he pulled down the coffee bag. The unroasted beans he pops into the popcorn popper. Stirring the beans in the cylinder while I watched stun. When he was on the boat with me the first time he made coffee for me before the kids woke up. It was like magic as if some alchemical creation was bubbling away in the Moka pot. I haven't had coffee since that day he broke up. The smell of the roast beans had me fighting off tears. He ground the beans and put them into the Moka pot. Then hot water was in the bottom and he connect the two and placed it on the stove. I watched from the doorway of the kitchen and a smile spread across my lips. The quiet way he worked was as if he was making one of his painting masterpieces. He puts the cream on the heat while the coffee is bubbling. Then he puts the milk into the French prince frothing it up.

Noah doesn't drink coffee, and it always got me how he learns to do this. How every day he'd make coffee for me every morning before I woke up. "Noah?"

"Yes," he answers me.

"Where did you learn to make coffee?"

"I practice a lot and tested it on Maurice. I saw you liked coffee." He scrunches up his nose watching as the pot bubbles away.

Of course, Noah practiced making something he doesn't like to drink until he was insanely good at it. But he did it just because I liked it? That smile spread wider as I lean against the door. I missed my sweet Noah. The sexy angry Neptune god of the sea version even angry and mad was hot. Sex was a pure fire on water but this sweet side of him I got so used to him. I missed the sweetness so bad. I wrap my arms around myself resisting the urge to touch. To fill my mouth with the taste of him directly after I drink that cup of coffee he was making. Friendship T, he's being friendly, keep it in your pants.

Quickly Noah took the pot off the stove running the bottom under the water. He rinsed out my mug and poured the coffee in. Then he followed it up with a bit of frothy latte art with the cream. With shaky hands, I take the hot mug of coffee from him. All the memories rush in faster than I could stop them. All the times he made me this same. All the sweet kisses in the morning after we had been together. It was too much. When I looked up his ocean eyes caught mine and held. I almost drop the damn coffee.

Hey Noah, welcome back.

Our eyes didn't leave each other, and were locked together inches apart. For once there wasn't an ocean between us. We were together on that tiny boat waiting for the come what may. I wanted whatever we had, whatever this was going to be now to last. Nerves filled my belly.

Even with the hot coffee in my hand, I was overthinking it. How do I stand, and where do I look? Do we hug it out do I do anything? Honestly, I'm just thankful he isn't using me to hurt himself anymore. This is a better place even if this is all either of us gets from now on.

It's funny how awkward you can feel going on a limb. The thought of reaching out when I know it probably won't go well. I managed it barely. My eyes are as restless as Noah's always. Our deep gaze broke the Noah exception we shared. That Noah exception when all his focus is on you it's deadly. A deviation of ocean eyes directed at you. It feels like a wave of emotions coming at you and most of it unnamed.

He nodded, his ocean eyes make fleeting contact with mine. Then he walked away strapping his tool belt on and heading towards the lake without a word back. His strong back got further from me as the distance grew. That ocean between us came back. A sigh slips from my lips, and I mourn the friendship we were beginning to have before the sex. But I let him go. Take the win T.

I took the win and drank the lovely coffee.

A/n: So happy the thirst trap is back in full force. Amen.