I curled my legs under myself and watched Noah struggle. It was amusing seeing him so wound up, a nice power reversal. I took a cautious sip and waited for him to start speaking. He was staring into his beer intently, watching the bubbles foam. Then he tilted his head back, poured half of it down his throat, put the bottle down and turned to me. “You ready for the monologue then?” His eyebrows rose. “Nobody actually talks in monologues in real life,” I replied. “Movies completely underestimate a human’s need to interrupt and ask questions.” Another gorgeous smile. Making Noah smile was quickly becoming my new favourite pastime. “Okay, I won’t monologue.” “Good.” “I’m nervous.” I pushed him, playfully. “Just get on with it.” So he took a deep breath and he did.
