“Do you like pasta?” Noah asks.
I nod, too busy drinking in the surroundings to say anything.
“Cool. They do the best pasta here—the chef’s Italian. He’s the real deal. Let’s grab this table.” Noah leads me over to a table tucked into an alcove. We sit down on a squishy leather sofa, smiling at one another.
“Happy Magical Mystery Day,” Noah says.
“This has been the best Magical Mystery Day ever,” I say.
“Well, it’s not over yet.” Noah grabs the small menu card from the table and moves nearer so that we can both look at it. Once again, I’m conscious of how close we are and I’m so distracted by this fact that all the lettering on the menu blurs into one.
“The lasagna here is incredible,” Noah says.
I look up at him and the thought bubble above my head becomes filled with the words “KISS ME.” For a split second, as he looks into my eyes and moves his head the tiniest bit closer to mine, I wonder if he’s thinking exactly the same thing. But then a guy comes bounding over to our table and the moment is lost.
“Noah, my man!” the guy says. He’s tall and thin and wearing low-slung jeans and a skater T-shirt. “Long time, no see. How you been?”
“Oh, you know—busy,” Noah replies.
The guy smiles. “I bet.”
“Penny, this is Antonio. Antonio, Penny—she’s come all the way from the UK to eat here today so you don’t wanna disappoint her.”
“For real?” The guy looks at me and I nod. “Well then, you guys have got to try my new meatballs.” He perches on the edge of our table and leans in close. “The sun-dried tomato sauce is a top-secret recipe handed down from my grandma’s grandma. You won’t get anything like it outside of Italy.”
“All righty, that’s sold me.” Noah turns to me. “What do you think, Penny?”
“Sounds great.”
Antonio looks at Noah and grins. “Man, that accent is cute.”
Noah nods and I blush.
Once Antonio has taken our order and disappeared off into the kitchen, I take another look around the café. There are only a handful of other diners—all hipsters, in skinny jeans and faded T-shirts, hunched over laptops or huddled in conversation. It’s the most laid-back restaurant I think I’ve ever seen.
“This place is so cool,” I say, speaking my thoughts out loud.
“I knew you’d like it,” Noah says.
“Oh yeah? How come?”
“Because I like it.”
I raise an eyebrow at him.
“We have a lot in common, you and I.”
“We do?”
“Oh yes.” Then, just when I feel like something special’s about to happen, like he’s about to tell me something important, he shifts away from me on the sofa. “Just gotta use the restroom. Be right back.”
As I watch Noah walk away, I take a moment to process everything that’s happened. It’s weird because although on paper there’s no way a knicker-flashing, international disaster zone like me should be in this place, with this person, there’s something about the way Noah and I fit together that makes it seem like the most natural thing in the world. I decide there and then not to worry anymore about what things look like “on paper.” I watch as a girl walks over to an old jukebox in the corner and puts some money in. The song “What a Wonderful World” comes on and I feel so happy it’s like every cell in my body has turned into a shooting star. This is Dad’s happy song—the one he always plays when we’re celebrating something. It seems so perfect—this seems so perfect—that my eyes fill with happy tears.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Noah says, when he gets back to the table.
“They’re worth way more than a penny,” I say with a grin.
“Oh, really?” Noah slides back onto the sofa, right up close to me. “How much more?”
“Way out of your price range, I’m afraid.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep.”
Noah grins at me. “I’d tell you my thoughts if you gave me a penny.”
“Really?” I fumble in my bag for my purse and hand him a penny. “Go on then.”
“I was thinking, I’m so glad I gave Sadie Lee a lift to work this morning. And I’m so glad I hung around to play that guitar.”
My heart starts beating really fast. “Yeah?”
“Yep. That sure was a nice guitar.”
“Oh.”
He gives me a knowing smile, then looks away.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Your turn,” Noah says, handing me back the penny.
“What?”
“Your turn. A penny for your thoughts.”
“But I told you—they’re worth way more than a penny.”
“Oh no.” Noah frowns at me and shakes his head. “Once a person’s told you their thoughts you have to tell them yours—for the exact same price. That’s the rules.”
“There are rules?” I pull a fake disgruntled face but my head is filling with nervous chatter. How can I tell him I was thinking “KISS ME”? He’ll think I’m a lunatic. I need to make up something else. But I don’t exactly have the greatest track record when it comes to thinking up clever things to say to boys on the spot. I make a mental note not to mention anything to do with fleas.