Present Perfect by Alison G. Bailey Page A

back and forth on his heels with both hands in his pockets. He was nervous and adorable. “You look really pretty, Tweet.”
    My face began to heat up. “Thanks. What is all this?” I was completely overwhelmed that he went to all this trouble for me.
    “I wanted to thank you for helping me out. I know it’s a lot to ask.”
    I smiled even though I could feel tears forming behind my eyes. I wanted so much for this to be a real date and not just one friend helping out another. A feeling of sadness overtook me as I reminded myself that this was just Noah’s sweet way of thanking me and knowing that tomorrow night another girl would be having a real date with him.
    Lightening the mood, he walked over to my side, nudging my arm with his elbow. “Stop standing there being such a girl,” he teased. “It’s just our regular old table. Sit down.”
    “Thank you, Noah. This is…it’s…” For the first time in my life I was at a loss for words.
    Sitting across from each other at the table, we stayed quiet, looking at each other, and listening to the music. It wasn’t awkward at all. It felt comfortable and natural.
    “Can I ask you something?” I said, breaking the silence.
    “You can ask me anything, Tweet.”
    “Do you think it’s weird for us to be best friends?”
    “What do you mean weird?”
    Shrugging my shoulders, I said, “Beth thinks it’s weird.”
    He reached across the table, took hold of my hand and laced our fingers together.
    “It doesn’t feel weird to me. When I’m with you everything feels perfect. I can’t picture anyone else being my best friend and I don’t want to.”
    Looking down at our joined hands, my pulse quickened. I had to keep reminding myself that this was not a date, I was not his girlfriend, and would never be.
    I cleared my throat and whispered, “I feel the same way.”
    A tear rolled down my cheek as I let out a deep sigh. I tried to wipe it away before Noah noticed it, but I wasn’t fast enough.
    He brought my hand up to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the palm of it, never taking his eyes off me. “Don’t cry, Tweet.”
    There was something in the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes that made me think he wanted to tell me something, but didn’t know how to say it. Noah knew me better than anyone else and could read my thoughts and feelings. No doubt he could tell I was getting all girly and mushy with the dinner, the music, the flowers, and him. He was trying to figure out a way of letting me know, this was just a thank you and not a date, without hurting my feelings.
    The sound of a car horn saved Noah from the awkwardness of letting me down and me from any embarrassment. Raising his free hand and pointing his index finger in the air, he said, “I believe our dinner has arrived.”
    We had pizza for dinner and breath mints for dessert. Noah thought of everything. Now it was time to practice.
    We were both nervous. Noah hit the table a few times like he was playing the drums. He looked like he was trying to decide on something. He stopped drumming and looked at me.
    “I guess standing would be the best way to do this,” he said. I nodded my agreement.
    We stood, he walked over to me, landing a couple of feet away, directly in front of me. He rolled his shoulders, forwards and backwards a couple of times, stretched his neck from side to side, and then shook his arms out. It looked like he was gearing up to run a track meet. He bent down, rubbing his palms over his shorts a couple of times while exhaling a few deep breaths. Standing back up, he announced, “Ok, here it comes.”
    “I don’t think it’s a good idea to slap a warning label on it.”
    “I’m not going to say that tomorrow.” I gave him double thumbs up.
    “Sorry. I thought that might have been one of your moves.”
    Noah moved in closer to me, leaving very little space between us. Looking into his eyes I could see that the nervousness had somehow already disappeared and had been