Sixteen
Alex
“Open the fuckingdoor or I’m going to break it down.”
Despite coming through my locked and dead bolted door, Noah’s voice wasn’t muffled.
He’d been knocking for fifteen minutes, and for fourteen of those minutes I had resolutely ignored him, choosing instead to stay gleefully nestled under my blankets.
But at his words, something clicked.
I knew Noah well enough to know that he didn’t make idle threats, so I somehow pulled myself out of bed and opened the door a crack.
“I’m tired, go away,” I muttered, keeping my gaze centered on Noah’s fancy black sneakers.
Seeing them reminded me of the boots I would treasure forever and sparked another rush of tears.
I started to close the door, but Noah stopped me, easily pushing his way in.
I kept my gaze on his shoes, but I knew what I would see if I looked at him.
His disapproving frown, the anger flashing in his dark eyes.
I couldn’t handle that.
“Are you breaking in again?” I asked, in a low, angry voice of warning.
A warning that Noah brushed off like it was nothing.
“I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for three fucking days.”
His voice was almost guttural with restrained rage.
I shrugged it off. “So what? I’ve been ignoring you for three fucking days. Didn’t you get the hint?” I asked.
He grabbed my chin and tilted my head up.
I refused to meet his eyes.
“I thought you were dead,” he whispered, his voice full of emotion.
Emotion I refused to let touch me. “Well, as you can see,” I said, gesturing at my T-shirt and short-covered body, “I’m very much alive. So you can go.”
I felt like a nightmare and didn’t even dare imagine how I looked.
But I didn’t give a shit.
Noah, who now gripped my arm, didn’t move. He just stared at me, the intensity in his glare almost overpowering even though I still refused to look at him.
He sniffed. “You stink. Go take a shower and brush your teeth. And comb your hair while you’re at it,” he said.
That finally got me to look at him.
His lips were thin line of rage.
That was a feeling I could latch on to. “Fuck off, Noah.”
His hold didn’t tighten. He didn’t even move. But something made me relent.
“Fine,” I said, wrenching out of his hold and heading back to my bathroom.
I got in the shower, not even bothering to let the water get warm.
The icy blast made me shiver, but I didn’t try to avoid it.
The discomfort of an ice-cold shower was better than the nothingness I had felt since that phone call.
Had it been three days?
I’d take his word for it.
I hadn’t even looked at my phone and assumed the battery was dead.
I’d been too busy wallowing in my misery to care.
I didn’t know how long I stayed in the shower, but when I emerged, I didn’t necessarily feel better, but I was clean.
Habit had me brushing my teeth and then putting on moisturizer.
The thought of the full detangle my hair would need made me want to crawl back into bed, so I brushed it back as best I could and then went into the bedroom.
Was shocked when I saw a made bed, complete with clean sheets.
I left the bedroom and found Noah standing at the small bistro table in my kitchen, which was now covered with bags from the deli at the end of the block.
He didn’t look at me when he gestured at the bags. “Vegetable soup. Cranberry walnut bread. Eat it,” he said.
I was going to argue, but my words were drowned out by my grumbling stomach.
Not a surprise. I thought I’d eaten an apple yesterday but couldn’t quite remember.
“Clean sheets and soup in less than thirty minutes. Impressive,” I said, trying to sound like my normal self even though this situation was anything but.
“I was going to cook something, but there’s nothing here,” he said, his voice brimming with disapproval.
I bristled. “It’s not like going without for a few days is going to hurt me,” I said.
He slammed the quart of rice milk—my favorite brand, a fact I tried to ignore—he’d taken out of the bag against the table. “Shut the fuck up and eat the fucking food, Alex.”
I looked at him, and he glared back at me, his anger palpable.
His expression dared me to say something else, but weakling that I was, I looked away.
Besides, there was no reason for Noah to see me any more pathetic than he already had.
So, I ate the soup and bread and started to feel better.
Noah pushed a bottle of water into my hands and then cleared the table.
I gulped the water greedily, not realizing how thirsty I’d been, and when Noah came back, he pulled me out of the chair and into his arms.
He hugged me so tight that it was hard to move.
Not that I was trying.
There was a desperation in his hug, and a sense of relief that I couldn’t ignore, and I was sure no one had ever hugged me quite like that.
He broke the embrace and then, his hand clasping mine, walked us to the bedroom.
He sat, his back against my headboard, then pulled me into his lap.
Held me for long, quiet moments before he spoke, his voice angry—and hurt. “What was that about, Alex?”
Instinct put me on the defensive, a place I was far more comfortable with than all the shit Noah made me feel. “What, I take some time to myself and it’s an international fucking incident?”
Noah’s arms tightened and then loosened, and I braced myself for the onslaught I knew I deserved.
But instead of anger, I got softness. He stroked his thumb across my cheekbone, then tenderly cupped my face. “Don’t try to push me away right now. Just answer.”
I didn’t speak, wasn’t sure what to say.
Then it hit me in a flash.
Noah was here now.
For me.
And I could trust him.
With that knowledge, I decided to tell the truth.
All of it.
“My father doesn’t love me,” I said, my voice wavering, but the tears that had flowed freely for days not coming this time.
Noah lifted his lips, flashing that dimple as he stroked my cheek. “Something else we have in common.”
Guilt hit me hard.
I hadn’t even considered Noah’s past.
Not once.
“Noah, I’m sorry.”
How dare I drop my shit on him when he had his own to deal with?
He kissed my forehead. “Don’t ever be sorry for telling me the truth. And don’t worry about me. I want to talk about you.”
He still stroked my cheek, but I saw a glint of hardness in his eyes.
“I…” My mouth flopped open and closed but no words came out.
“Talk, Alex,” he said.
His arms were on top of mine now, and he held me in a tight hold, one I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to leave.
“That has to be the only explanation. Why else would he parachute into my life, then run back out. Over, and over, and over.”
I cut off, felt myself melting into Noah, relying on his strength in a way I’d never allowed myself to with anyone else.
“I can’t tell you how many weekends of my childhood I spent waiting for him to show up, only to be disappointed.
“How many daddy-daughter dates we never had, even though he promised. Then, when I was older, how my mother and I had to miss our trip to Mexico because we couldn’t find him to sign my passport application. Mama saved every extra penny for years for that trip, and she never got to take it because of him.
“He never went to my volleyball games. Wasn’t there when I graduated salutatorian and gave a speech in high school. Or when I graduated with honors from college or law school. None of it.
“He was nice enough to come to my mother’s funeral, but he didn’t stay for the repast. It’s always been like that with him. In and out. In and out. It should be easy for me now. I should know exactly what he’s about. But every time, like the fucking dumb ass I am, I get sucked in.
“I just keep thinking that one day he’s going to say ‘Alex, I love you.’ He doesn’t even have to apologize for all the shit that happened before. Just be here. And stay. I know it’s stupid, and I know I should know better. But I still hope, and it’s fucking pathetic.”
Those tears that hadn’t come before started to well up and spill out of my eyes, and I swiped at them angrily, viewing them as yet another betrayal of myself on my father’s behalf.
“I can’t fucking believe I let him do this to me,” I said, the tears now coming faster than I could swipe them away.
“I’m sorry,” Noah said.
He sounded sincere, so sincere that the guilt I had managed to forget came back.
“I know it’s super fucked up to complain to you after…”
“After my own piece of shit father abandoned me?” he said.
His voice held none of the heat, none of the emotion I felt in my own, and I nodded. “Yes. Exactly.”
“To tell you the truth, I think I got the better deal,” he said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I wasn’t ever even in the same room as my father until I was thirty-two years old. And yeah, that’s fucked up. But I can only imagine how much worse it would have been to know him, be able to pick him out of a crowd, have him leave, get over him leaving, only to have him come back and start the cycle all over again. It’s fucking torture,” he said.
“Yeah,” I responded. “It’s torture.”
“But you know that has nothing to do with you,” he whispered, his fingers now rubbing soothing circles on my back.
I didn’t say anything, and he slid back until he was flush against the headboard and pulled me until I was again sitting on his lap facing him.
He grabbed my throat with one of his big hands, held my face in place.
“It has nothing to do with you, Alex. It’s him. He’s fucking garbage.”
I bristled, reflex dictating that I argue with Noah’s words. “He’s?—”
Noah didn’t let me. “Don’t defend him. Don’t. You deserve so much more than he was able to give you. And I’m sorry that you suffered because of him. But it’s not your fault,” he said.
“But you think it’s yours,” I whispered.
His eyes darkened, and he huffed out a little laugh.
“We’re not talking about me right now,” he said.
“You wouldn’t let me get away with that,” I pointed out.
“Well, if you can admit that what I said is true, maybe we can talk about me,” he said.
I held his gaze for a long moment, and then slowly, slowly moved closer, resting my lips against his.
He kissed me back, then pulled away, his expression intense.
“Alex, I was fucking worried about you. I didn’t come here for this,” he said.
As he spoke, I settled onto the growing hardness nestled between my ass cheeks.
“He disagrees,” I said, trailing my lips along his jaw.
“But he’s not in charge here. I am,” he said.
He stilled me, both of his hands cupping my head now, his eyes almost scarily intense.
“I didn’t come here for this,” he repeated.
“I need you, Noah,” I said, my gaze locked on his.
I hadn’t meant to say the words and certainly hadn’t meant to sound as vulnerable as I did in that moment. Noah was seeing a part of me I’d never shown anyone else, and it occurred to me too late that he might not like him. That he might not want the burden that I was now that he’d seen it.
But I couldn’t do anything about that now. The words were out, and I wouldn’t dare try to take them back.
Because they were true.
I did need Noah.
Needed him in a way that I couldn’t ignore.
And as he stared into my eyes, I knew he saw the truth of that need.
He didn’t run, didn’t push me away, didn’t overlook the rawness of this moment.
His arms tightened as he leaned forward and kissed me.
The brush of his lips against mine was so tender that I trembled and then breathed out a breath I barely realized I had been holding. I cried out in protest when Noah broke the kiss, but he silenced me by pressing a hard kiss against my neck as he stared at me with those intense, focused eyes.
After another long moment, he lifted me off his lap and shifted until he was on his knees. Then, he hurriedly undressed me, taking no time at all to rid me of my T-shirt and pajama pants.
I scampered to my knees when he got off the bed and undressed himself, his masculine beauty so potent, I was compelled to touch him.
Hand shaky with need and emotion, I reached out to stroke his shaft, thrilling at the feel of his thickness against my fingers.
I leaned forward and snaked my tongue out to lick at his crown before sucking his bulbous head into my mouth. I swirled my tongue around his crown, then lapped at precum dribbling from him.
As I moved to take him deeper, Noah pushed me away.
“Not about me, Alex,” he said, his voice rough, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths.
My heart both clenched and melted at the tenderness in his words and the softness in the way he cupped my cheek. He kissed me softly and then nudged my shoulder.
I lay back, pulling Noah even closer as he stretched out atop me, the heavy weight of his cock against my thigh making me squirm with anticipation.
More than anything I wanted—needed—Noah inside me.
He reached for the nightstand, but I stopped his hand, locked eyes with his.
“I want it to be just us,” I said.
I’d wanted Noah skin against skin before, but common sense had always stilled my tongue. That was out of the window now.
Noah stared at me, so intense that I thought he would leave.
“Are you sure?” he finally asked, his voice a whisper somewhere between reserved, hopeful, and uncertain.
“I am,” I said, stroking his hair.
He looked down at me with reverence and passion that had my blood sizzling, and as he pushed inside of me, his thickness stretching me so deliciously it brought tears to my eyes, I held him tight, believing that if nothing else, Noah would be there for me.
Knowing that I could always trust him.