24. Twenty-Four
Twenty-Four
Noah
T he hot steam of the shower clouds the mirror of my bathroom while I place a towel around my hips.
The faculty meeting we had ran later than I thought, and I’m scrambling to get ready before my parents’ Thanksgiving dinner. Luckily, Lennon didn’t mind changing plans and heading my way instead of having me pick her up.
The past few weeks have been a blur of home improvements, sex, long conversations, and more sex. Instead of curbing my appetite, every time I’m with her, I become more addicted. It’s gone beyond just sleeping together, and part of that scares me.
You’ve ruined me for anyone else.
I run a hand down my face. “Fuck,” I whisper.
As I dress for her arrival, I can’t help but ponder how her meeting my family feels different. I don’t bring women to meet my fucking family–haven’t since Alexis.
When my mom found out, she immediately spiraled into planning an elaborate meal, complete with a newfound motivation for placing fall decor around the house. I tried to assure her that Lennon was just a friend, but something about that word felt inherently wrong.
Lennon’s not just a friend.
Lennon’s much more.
She’s harsh truths and sarcastic jokes–cinnamon and hot cider.
I run my hands through my dark hair. Whether it’s to look nice or calm my nerves, I don’t know.
Either way, when the doorbell sounds, I jolt, running my palms over my black pants before adjusting the white collar of my shirt beneath the sweater I’ve chosen.
Giving myself one last glance, I head to the door, turning the handle and opening it until Lennon stands before me wearing the fucking skirt.
It’s shorter–just above mid-thigh. Something about the sheer black tights, the black turtleneck sweater tucked into the thing–
She looks utterly fuckable.
“You need to change.”
Lennon’s brow furrows. “Wow, what an asshole.” She shoves past me and makes her way to the living room before turning around. “Why? I thought you said you liked this?”
I reach for her, pulling her closer until her body is flush against mine. There’s a lingering chill on her skin from the November air outside as I hold her close, my hands migrating to the bottom hem of the skirt. I slip one hand beneath it, noting the way she sucks in a breath.
“Noah,” she warns. “We’re going to be late.”
“Fuck if I care.” My hand rises higher, squeezing the outside of her thigh before migrating to her ass. God, she feels good in my hand.
My lips ghost over the skin of her neck, flushed and needy as I fight the urge to taste her.
“You’re right,” I say, drawing back and relishing in the soft whine that escapes her. “Don’t want to keep my dad waiting. This is his favorite holiday.”
A few stray leaves litter the walkway leading to my parents’ greenhouse, the white railing lining the porch on my childhood home.
I’d stopped by two weeks ago to help Dad clean up the yard, raking and discussing the possibility of bringing Lennon to dinner. He’d gotten quiet–something I’m used to when I have conversations with my dad, but it wasn’t until I saw his face that I noticed the change in his expression.
I reminded him she was only a friend. To which he responded with sure and proceeded to rake the leaves in the grass.
The front door sits closed as we amble up the steps, one old pumpkin drooping and looking sad near the top.
“My mom’s going to freak about that.” I nod toward the pumpkin, and Lennon offers a wide smile.
“Why?” she asks.
“I’m sure she’s spent hours getting the house ready for your arrival. She loves having guests, especially if it means she gets to cook and play board games.”
“Play board games?”
I chuckle. “I was an only child, remember? It’s less fun with only two or three people. She gets very excited at the opportunity to create some real competition.”
Lennon laughs, and the door swings open, my mom striding out in her long floral skirt flowing around her ankles and a sweater.
“Lennon,” she says, warmth coating her voice. “It’s so wonderful to meet you! It’s been a long time since Noah brought a girl to the house.”
My stomach drops. “Mom.”
She waves me off. “Come in, come in. I’m making tons of food, and I was thinking we could play Life. Or maybe we could play Clue instead.”
“Clue would be better,” I chime in, but she seems to ignore me as she drags Lennon into the entryway, taking her jacket and ushering her toward the kitchen.
Lennon looks back at me as she slowly disappears down the hall. Her smile is bright as the sun, and I can do nothing but unwind the scarf around my neck, drop my peacoat over the banister, and follow her light.
“I was actually thinking about purchasing new cookware for the bed-and-breakfast.” I hear Lennon say as I enter the kitchen. My mom stands near the stove, glancing over at her as she speaks. “Well, it’s more of a need. I can’t keep cooking on what I bought right out of college.”
My mom chuckles. “You let me know what you need. We’d be happy to gift some things.” Her eyes flick to me. “Noah, here, says he’s been helping with renovations. I’ve yet to reap the rewards of this, though. Our finished attic still has a hole in the wall from last spring when squirrels made a nest there.” She waves a hand. “Terrifying when the thing chewed through the plaster and got out. Anyway, Joel covered it with a piece of wood, and it looks hideous. Noah could have had it fixed by now with all his new skills.”
Lennon leans against the countertop, her hands gripping the marble as she stares me down, one long leg crossed over the other at the ankle. “Yeah, Noah? Why haven’t you fixed it yet.”
I lean over the kitchen island, holding her gaze. “Five minutes, and you’ve turned against me.”
Lennon raises a brow, my mom humming while she works over the stove. “I actually prefer being up against you.”
I nearly choke as my dad walks in from the side door carrying a grocery bag. “I bought the rolls, but I’m not sure why–”
My mom smacks him in the chest with a spoon and shushes him before turning and smiling sweetly at Lennon. “Lennon, dear. All of my food is homemade.”
“Don’t let her lie to you,” my dad says, holding up the rolls. “She has me out here running around town doing her bidding.” He kisses my mom on the forehead and sets the bag on the counter.
“Heard a lot about you,” he admits, and Lennon smiles.
“Have you?” she asks. “What have you heard?”
“That Noah’s been fixing up that house of yours.”
“Joel, I just said that,” my mom chimes in.
My dad wads up the grocery bag and throws it under the sink. “Must be pretty special to get him to learn how to replace wooden boards on a porch.”
My face feels hot. My parents sound like they’re talking to my girlfriend–someone I’m in a relationship with. Lennon and I haven’t had any real conversation, but it doesn’t seem wrong.
There’s still a thread of anxiety in the back of my mind, warning me of all the ways things could go south with Lennon. My track record isn’t great.
“Dad–” I say, but Lennon only smiles at him.
“Good to know I’ve helped him acquire some useful skills.” She taps the counter once. “Um, where is your restroom?” she asks, and my mom points her down the hallway just before Lennon disappears.
“I like her, Noah,” my mom says as soon as she’s gone. “Far prettier than the last one. In the face, particularly.”
“Mom, I’m not dating this woman,” I say, and she rounds on me, her eyes blazing.
“Then that,” she says, pointing her spoon in my direction, “is something you must remedy straight away.”
I look to my dad for some sense of reprieve, but he merely holds his hands up in defense. “Don’t look at me, Son,” he says. “Your mother makes the rules here.”