Chapter 16
Luca
Frustrated, I let my head fall onto the steering wheel.
I would’ve loved to stay, to cuddle up to him, to hold him tight.
I wouldn’t have fallen asleep though. We would’ve lain down, and then the fear would’ve set in.
Just like it always does when I don’t have my aroma lamp with me.
When I don’t hear the soft hum of the diffuser and smell the Swiss stone pine, or see the light shimmering through my closed eyes.
I never stay overnight at anyone’s place.
I tried it once with a girl I picked up.
At four in the morning, I ran out of the house and it took me almost an hour to walk home.
I rarely bother going home with anyone at all.
There’s nothing you can’t do in a bathroom or a dimly lit side street.
Quick and impersonal, just the way I like it—or so I thought.
Now I’m not so sure anymore. That was nice today.
Close, but not too close. Familiar, but not scary.
I want to do this again and again and again, until Noah realizes how exhausting I am.
Until he decides he doesn’t want me anymore.
Sometimes he rolls his eyes, and every time I brace myself for him to ask me to leave.
But then a small, soft smile spreads across his face. It starts with a twitch at the corner of his mouth, and when it reaches his eyes and Noah’s wall comes down for a moment, I hope I have more time. That I’m allowed to stay with him.
***
“Bonjour, Coco.”
“Ah, Bonjour, Papa.” Coco is his nickname for me, short for coati. At first he said coati, but over the years it’s become Coco, and actually, I prefer that.
“You’re up early for a Saturday. Especially after you got home so late.”
“I was at Noah’s.”
A knowing smile spreads across his face. “He has a name.”
I quickly lower my gaze, but Papa sees the smile spreading across my face anyway. “He’s been here before. Didn’t Paps tell you?”
“He did, but I want you to tell me about him.”
“We’re studying together. We never really had anything to do with each other before, but now we’re writing our term paper together and…
” As he walks past, Papa puts an arm around my shoulder.
My gaze falls on his tattooed fingers. For a while, I wanted tattoos like his; he has full sleeves on both arms, with the design extending all the way across his back.
On his left ribcage is a large fish, Paps’s zodiac sign in a geometric style, on the other side are those of us kids.
The day after my adoption, there was a large Aries next to Louis’s Virgo and Jannis’s Taurus.
That was the moment I truly understood that I belonged to this family. Forever—there’s no turning back.
That finality has always fascinated me about tattoos. You make a decision, and there’s no reset. Papa was younger than I am when he made his.
I’m too fickle for tattoos. What I like today, I won’t like three weeks later.
“And?” Oh, shit, my thoughts drifted away again.
“We get along well. He’s… different. I… like him, a lot actually. And I think he likes me too. I hope so.” I turn around and press my face into the crook of Papa’s neck. Even at twenty, I love to hide from the world here, and he lets me.
“What’s not to like about you?”
“Ask the fifteen foster families prior to you, they could probably write a whole book about it.” My tone isn’t bitter, but I hear the fear in my voice, and it startles me.
“They didn’t understand who you were and what your past has done to you. They tried to force you into their lives without realizing you weren’t capable of that. You were a child, it wasn’t your fault.”
“I’m complicated.”
“You have a past. We’re all the result of what we’ve experienced, what has shaped us.
Philipp lived through manipulation and abuse in his first relationship.
Do you think trust and intimacy came to him easily?
” I shake my head silently. “If he’s the right one, he’ll take your ‘complicated’ and make it easy. ”
That’s exactly how it feels, but that’s exactly what makes it so bad, because I’m so fucking scared that he’ll take that easy away from me again.
***
The week was a mess. I have soccer practice on Mondays and Wednesdays, so I’m never free on these days.
On Tuesday, I had to watch the twins because Jannis and Dayyan had to go to a parent-teacher conference and our parents had plans.
Noah was supposed to come over, but then he got a call from his parents and had to go home.
He was distant and cold all Wednesday morning.
I don’t know what they did to him, but I already hate them for it.
It wasn’t until late afternoon that he finally rested his head on my chest and took a deep breath.
It’s Thursday, and as the door to Noah’s apartment closes behind us, the tension of the week melts away. I pull Noah toward me, slip my hands under his thighs, and lift him up.
“Hey! What are you doing?” His eyes are wide, a hint of panic flickering in the hazel.
“I’m holding you hostage.”
“I’m not planning on leaving. This is my apartment.” I love Noah’s dry sense of humor, and I can’t stop the laughter bursting out of me.
Just like last time, we fall into this familiar closeness. We work on our project, we cook together. Okay, Noah cooks. I’m hopeless in the kitchen.
“Ah, wait, I brought something for you!” Confused, he turns to me, but his eyes light up when he realizes what I’ve just given him.
“Fleur de sel! Did you buy that just for me?”
A little embarrassed, I shake my head. “No, we always have that at home. It’s from ?le de Saint émile, we always go there in the summer. I also brought you the herb salt. It’s the best by far, I swear.”
Noah’s lips tremble as he reaches up toward me, and his eyes are moist. “Thank you, no one has ever done that for me… thank you so much.”
Very gently, I press my lips to his and feel Noah relax in my arms.
***
It’s late again, Noah’s body lies warm and soft against mine, and even though I don’t want to leave, I can’t stay.
“Do you have to go?”
I nod, frustrated.
“Stay here for a moment, I… um, oh God, you’re probably going to think this is totally stupid, and maybe it won’t work, but I thought…”
“Calm down, mon Papillon. What’s this stuttering about?”
As if bitten by a tarantula, he jumps up and runs out of the living room, coming back with a small package wrapped in red gift paper. “For you. Unwrap it.”
His nervousness radiates from every pore, I can feel it, and it’s rubbing off on me. Two minutes later, I’m holding an aroma lamp and a small bottle of Swiss stone pine oil in my hands. Noah is still standing uncertainly in front of me and I’m speechless.
Without thinking, I jump up and push Noah against the nearest wall.
Hard and wild. Lips on lips. My heart is pounding too fast, and my body follows its beat.
Kissing Noah is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.
It’s like a rush but I’m fully conscious.
It feels like that singular moment on the Silver Star, when the roller coaster slowly tilts over the first crest and your adrenaline spikes because you know it’s about to release and you’ll race into the depths. Exactly like that.
My hands glide over his upper body and Noah tenses. Stop.