Chapter 7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
BEFORE
I thought he was going to pull a disappearing act again. It seemed like the next logical step in what I had learned from him so far. But there he was, showing up for training, smiling brightly at me like nothing had happened. As if we could forget everything. After it was over, he even hung out with us. We went to Colin and Ezra’s apartment, had a few beers, and ordered food. He ate and didn’t smoke. I didn’t know if our talk had helped or if he was just trying, but it seemed like he was.
We started spending more time together too. He came over to play video games, and even though he still smoked sometimes, he didn’t overdo it. He also kept his distance from me. That part I wasn’t necessarily thrilled about. He was still his normal touchy Noah self, but not as close as before.
I missed his thigh pressing against mine when he sat too close, his hand on my back or shoulders, or even in my hair like that one time. Now, it was just him touching me to grab my attention or playfully shoving me when he made fun of something I said.
Sometimes, he catch me looking at him for too long and would smile but not comment on it. He just returned to what he was doing, the smile still playing on his lips.
I knew he still went out. I’d run into him and Holly at parties, but he didn’t look quite as out of it, at least not when I saw him. I went back to his apartment several times and seeing it so empty was always weird. Coming there gave me a twisted feeling in my gut. Nothing decorated it. There was nothing you could identify as Noah’s besides his clothes and weed. It was also generally messy. Every time I went, I felt the need to tidy up after him.
We were in his apartment when his mom called. Noah’s voice cut through the music in the background, the constant soundtrack I had gotten used to around him.
Noah sighed and grabbed his hair, shaking his head. The evening light filtered through the window, casting a soft glow on his features. He looked vulnerable, so different from his usual confident self.
“What’s wrong?” I asked Holly.
She glanced down at her phone and then at Noah.
“Who is he talking to?”
“His mom.”
She rolled her eyes. “Then that’s what’s wrong.”
She pushed off the couch.
He walked out to the terrace barefoot and started to raise his voice. The cool evening breeze ruffled his hair, as he hung up the phone and made a frustrated sound. I walked over and knocked softly on the window to let him know I was there. He rubbed his face in his hands and looked back at me.
“Hey,” I called.
He smiled, but it was tight and didn’t reach his eyes. The weight of whatever was bothering him was evident in the set of his shoulders and the tension in his jaw .
“Hey,” he said. The smile fell, and he looked serious. I could tell he was trying to push whatever he felt back in, but it wasn’t working as well as usual.
“Are you okay?”
He gave a halfhearted nod. “Yeah, I’m fine, Atty. I think I’m going to go shower.”
He walked past me towards his room. I scowled at his retreating form. Something didn’t feel right. The usual sparkle in his eyes was missing, replaced by a haunted look. I tried to ask Holly about it, but she was dismissive, as always.
After a while, I left and waited for him to come and find me.
I waited for a week.
I had gotten so used to him that this time, it didn’t feel like before. I wasn’t ready for it. I didn’t see it coming. I tried calling and texting him, but he never answered. I was worried, but Colin kept telling me he would show up again, probably after a week of parties. I didn’t want to point out that he should have quit those, at least the ones that took a week.
Spoting Holly walking around campus, I ran towards her.
“Hey, Holly,” I called.
She turned to smile at me. “Atticus King.”
“Is Noah doing okay?”
Her eyebrows drew together. “I thought he was with you,” she replied.
My stomach dropped. “What? No, he’s not. I haven’t talked to him since that day at his apartment,” I told her.
“Yeah, me neither. That’s why I figured he was with you.”
“You haven’t talked to him in a week? Has anybody?”
She shook her head. Fear gripped my chest .
“No, but don’t worry. He does this sometimes. He’ll turn up.”
This didn’t feel right.
I went to his apartment. I tried calling him first, but he didn’t answer. I asked the doorman to let me through. He had seen me enough to trust me. He told me Noah was up there as far as he knew, which scared me even more.
The elevator doors opened, and I looked around. The place was a mess. He had had people over, but a while ago. It smelled like stale beer, and the floor was sticky under my shoes. The noise from the TV traveled towards me, and I walked to his room, following it. I peeked inside and saw him lying in bed, looking at it absently. He was watching infomercials.
I knocked on the door quietly, but he didn’t move. Walking in, I sat on the bed next to him. Bags of chips were scattered around the bed, and beer bottles were on the nightstand.
I placed my hand on his shoulder. “Noah, it’s me,” I said, seeing his eyes close and taking a deep breath.
“Hey, Atty,” he droned after a few minutes.
“How long have you been here?”
“A couple of days.”
I reached for his face and turned him to look at me. His green eyes, usually so bright and full of life, looked dull and unfocused. His stubble was more prominent on his face, and his cheeks were slightly hollowed.
“You look nice,” he said with a small smile that warmed me. It wasn’t just the house that smelled bad. He probably hadn’t showered in days. I could see the exhaustion etched into his features, making him appear fragile and worn out.
“I’m going to get the bath going for you. I’ll order some food, is that okay?” I asked, and he nodded.
I got up and started doing that. He returned to watching TV. As I helped him up and towards the bath, I couldn’t help but notice how his body seemed weaker. I tried not to look too closely as I helped him out of his clothes and into the warm water.
He closed his eyes and sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. I helped him as much as I could, washing his hair, handing him the soap, washing his arms and hands. I found him clean clothes and changed the bedding in his room. I tried to clear it of all the garbage. After walking him back to bed, I went to get the food.
I noticed absently that my hands were trembling while I handed the money to the delivery man. I got Noah to eat something—not much, but something—and then put him back to bed.
“Are you leaving?” he asked when I pulled the covers over him and turned the TV off.
“Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”
“Please stay.” His voice cracked at the end.
“I’ll stay. Just give me a minute. I’ll be right back,” I told him and left the room.
I walked to the terrace and closed the door behind me. The cool night air hit my face as I watched the view of the city lights twinkling below. I let my eyes well up with tears before I rubbed my hands over them.
I took a couple of deep breaths and went back to him. I got into bed, and he pulled my arm around him. Snuggling up close behind, I heard him sigh. I tried to sleep, but the fear that gripped my chest was too intense. I didn’t even know who I could call for help. Just the thought of that made me feel like crying again. Seeing him alone in the middle of this waste of an apartment—he looked forgotten. And despite not knowing how to do it, my heart ached with a fierce need to protect him, to help him find his way back.
I woke up early the following day and went to get cleaning supplies. Got all the trash out, scrubbed the floors, and did some laundry before I heard the shower turn on. I had also gotten groceries and cleaned out his fridge. I was making him a grilled cheese and was almost done when he walked out. His face was clean-shaven; I had never seen him like that. He looked younger and handsome, his jawline sharp and skin smooth. He glanced around the apartment and then at me, giving a small smile that made my heart flutter.
“How domestic of you,” he joked.
I smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through my chest.
He sounded more like himself. He had put on the sleeveless shirt over a pair of black sweats, leaving his feet bare as usual. He sat on the stool before me, and I placed the food in front of him.
“Do you want anything to drink?” I asked as I got him a bottle of water.
He stared at his fridge, a little surprised. I guess he wasn’t used to seeing food there.
“You know, I have a lady who does these things,” he said, and as if on cue, his washing machine sounded.
“Yeah? Do you think she maybe quit?” I asked.
He let out a laugh before taking another bite. “This is good. You’re a good cook and a cleaning lady, apparently. Maybe I should hire you,” he said.
I sat beside him. He avoided looking at me, but I could see the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.
“You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to. I’m still staying here with you today, okay?” I said, my voice soft.
I reached for his neck, placing my palm over it, feeling the warmth of his skin. He swallowed around a bite and then nodded. He moved closer to me, curling himself under my arm and placing his own around my back. I wrapped mine around his shoulders, feeling the solid weight of him against me. He sighed again, rubbing his face against the side of my neck. His hair tickled my skin, and I inhaled his clean scent. He grabbed my other hand and pulled it towards his shoulder. I smiled, getting the message and hugging him close.
“Thanks, Atty,” he said quietly, his voice muffled against my neck.
“Anytime.”
We stayed like that well after he had finished his food, the steady rise and fall of his chest against mine soothing my worries. The simple act of holding him, feeling his heartbeat slow down, made everything else fade away.
“Does your mom do this?” he asked, and I glanced up at him, rubbing my hands clean on a napkin.
“What?” I asked after I swallowed.
“The pushy feeding bit.” He took another bite of his food.
I had ordered lunch after we finished cleaning the rest of his apartment. He’d refused to let me handle it alone. We even folded and tucked all his clean clothes into the closet.
“Kinda.” I didn’t want to point out that the reason I was doing it now was because he had gone from looking underfed to severely undernourished in a week. His cheekbones were more prominent, and his eyes, though still striking, had lost some of their usual spark.
“Well, it’s nice,” he admitted with a smile.
“Do you think I could shower?” I asked.
“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll finish up here. I have extra toothbrushes on the sink if you need one. I don’t think my clothes would fit you, though,” he said apologetically.
“Definitely not,” I said.
He laughed, the sound warm and genuine.
“Don’t worry, I had my bag with me when I got here. I have an extra set of sweats in there,” I told him, picking it up and walking towards his shower. I stopped. “Do you want me to use one of the other rooms?”
“No, go ahead, use mine,” he said, and I walked back towards it.
I scrubbed away the grime and fatigue, the hot water soothing my tense muscles. Clean and refreshed, I put on my sweats and brushed my teeth, feeling like a normal human being again.
When I returned to him, he had finished his food and was curled up on the couch, looking down at his phone and listening to music. I went and sat next to him.
He glanced up at me. “You look nice,” he said to me again, his eyes lingering a bit longer than usual.
I bit back my smile. “It was necessary. What are you doing?”
“I’m just letting my mom and Holly know I’m alive.”
My heart clenched again. I was overcome with the need to hug him close. I settled for moving my leg a little towards him, my knee barely touching his thigh. “Good.”
He smiled and moved his leg closer to mine. That was good enough.
He put his phone down and sighed. “I feel like I owe you an explanation,” he said, scratching his head.
“You don’t.”
“I want to tell you, Atty. Sometimes, I get these really low lows, and it’s tough for me to get out of bed, like you witnessed yesterday. I take medication for it, an antidepressant, but I haven’t taken it in a while, because sometimes I think I’m fine and I stop, and then shit like this happens,” he explained.
“Are you taking it again?”
“Yeah, I started this morning. They take a while to kick in, you know—weeks—but yeah,” he said.
“That’s good. Was it the call with your mom?” I asked.
He remained silent for a while before answering. “Yup. After my dad died, she was supposed to manage the household, you know? But she sucked at it. So I took over before she spent everything. She called me, upset because she had run out of money again, and I needed to transfer her more. That was it.”
“That sounds like a lot,” I told him.
He smiled tightly. “It just sucks taking care of your parents.”
“I can’t imagine,” I said truthfully.
“ Parent ,” he corrected, slightly over pronouncing the t. His hand was fiddling with his phone case.
Suddenly, the knee touch didn’t seem like a good enough response. I grabbed his hand, holding it between mine. Our eyes met.
“I don’t usually do this—try to comfort people—so I’m not very good at it. I’m having a little trouble holding back with you today,” I told him.
He smiled, his eyes softening. “You’re too fucking adorable. You’re better at it than you think.” He shook his head and looked back at our hands. He pulled his hand away and then laced his fingers through one of mine. “That’s how you do it. For future reference.”
I smiled back. That sounded nice— for future reference .
He looked at me, and I felt the jolt again. It wasn’t just that I was attracted to or liked him. It had turned into something bigger than that. I cared about him. I wanted to help him get better, and I wanted this never to happen again. He kept his eyes on me, his green orbs brightening. Then he looked away, discomfort flickering across his face.
“What?” I asked.
“Sometimes, when you look at me like that, it’s almost like I can hear what you’re thinking.”
I think he was probably the only person who thought that.
His frown deepened. “I need you to stop thinking that, Atty. ”
I felt a small stab in my chest. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want to ruin you. I don’t want you to hate me,” he told me. He looked like he was in pain again.
I hated that it was my fault he was feeling like this. “I could never hate you,” I told him, looking into his eyes, trying to convey the depth of my sincerity.
“You could,” he said, his voice soft, almost a whisper. I felt his thumb caressing mine.
“And you’re not going to ruin me either,” I insisted.
But he nodded, his eyes filled with doubt. “I could. You’re like a fucking angel, Atty. I can’t do this to you. Not to you,” he said, his gaze dropping to the floor.
“I’m not an angel.”
A small, sad smile played on his lips. “I need you to stop feeling what you’re feeling. We’re supposed to be friends,” he said.
I tightened my grasp on his hand. “We are friends,” I told him, watching his shoulders relax slightly. “I can’t promise to stop feeling what I’m feeling, but I’m not going to ask for more if you don’t want me to. I want to be here for you, and if this is how you want it, then that’s fine by me,” I said, my voice steady.
He seemed even more torn, his eyes flickering with indecision.
“I’ll take what I can from you,” I added softly.
He stared at his knees, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Fuck,” he muttered, closing his eyes tightly. His leg bounced nervously and his grip on my hand intensified. It was a little disappointing that he didn’t want me, but this wasn’t so bad as far as rejections went. If we could at least be friends, I could still be close to him.
“It’s really okay, I promise,” I said, my voice gentle.
His eyes found mine, and he released my hand. Suddenly, he pushed closer, grabbing my shoulders and straddling my lap. A shiver ran through my body at the contact .
“What—” I started to ask, but he grabbed my hands and placed them on his back. He cupped the side of my face, pulling me closer. His eyes looked amazing this close. He looked amazing this close. “What are you doing?” I managed to ask, my breath catching in my throat.
“I think it’s pretty fucking clear what I’m doing,” he said with a laugh that sounded more like a sigh of relief.
“You just told me to stop feeling this way about you,” I pointed out, my heart pounding.
“I told you I say things I don’t mean all the time.” He pressed his forehead on mine.
Shit .
“But what don’t you mean? This or wanting me to stop liking you?” I asked, feeling his breath on my face.
I couldn’t even describe the feeling in my chest. It was like falling on a rollercoaster, getting a jump scare in a movie, not realizing there was an extra step on a staircase and free-falling—all of that rolled into a ball in the best fucking way possible.
He slid his hips closer to me, and I was sure I couldn’t breathe.
“Atty, for fuck’s sake, come on,” he said, pulling my face closer. His green eyes locked onto mine, filled with urgency and longing.
My gaze traveled from his eyes to his lips. Mine suddenly felt way too dry and far away, like they were miles apart from his.
“Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered, his breath warm against my skin.
I pulled him down by his shirt, feeling the fabric bunch under my grip. Leaning towards him, I pressed my lips to his.
Finally.
His lips were soft and warm under mine, like silk. I closed my eyes, feeling his mouth press closer, and kissed him back. It felt like time was holding still. I grabbed him harder, pulling him closer, and he parted his lips with a sigh. I tilted my face to try and get closer, kissing those soft lips over and over again. God, this felt so good. He felt so good.
He kept pulling my face upward, and I tried to give him whatever he wanted. His hands moved back, slipping into my hair and holding me close. I stopped and leaned my forehead on his. My chest felt so tight.
He kissed the side of my lips, then my cheek, then tilted my head again to kiss my lips. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I had him.
I touched my tongue to the edge of his lips, and he parted them more with each kiss. His tongue brushed against mine, and I shut my eyes tightly, swallowing before pressing closer. Tasting the inside of his mouth and feeling his tongue next to mine sent a thrill through me. I had nothing to go on, but I was sure a kiss couldn’t be more perfect than this. Nobody could be more perfect than him.
His hands twisted in my hair tightly, and he picked up the pace. The quiet sound of our kissing echoed in the room, making me hungry for more. I let go of him and wrapped my arms around his waist, holding him closer. I tried to slow him down, kissing him deeper when he wanted to pull back. He melted into me, and I sighed on his lips and into his mouth.
He stopped kissing me, and I opened my eyes to find him looking down at me. His face reflected awe and disbelief.
“Wow,” he exhaled.
I couldn’t agree more.
He smiled and let out a breathy laugh. “Just, wow,” he whispered.
“Can I keep kissing you?” I asked, desperate to keep feeling him, tasting him.
“Yes, don’t stop, Atty. Kiss me all you want.”
I closed my lips over his again.
And again.
And again.
I let go of him and reached for his neck, the side of his face, feeling the warmth of his skin as he moved against me. I ran my thumbs over his cheeks, feeling smooth skin on my fingers.
He pushed back gently and slipped off my lap. I watched him go regretfully, and he smiled at me. He sat back on the couch, grabbing my elbows and pulling me close to him, over him.
“What do you want?” I asked, pressing my hand next to his head to keep myself up.
“To feel you on top of me,” he said.
He pushed back to lie on the couch, and I followed him, resting my weight between his legs. I kissed him again. His mouth was so inviting, parting for me, reaching his tongue out and calling me back to it, over and over again.
“God, I love how big you are,” he said against my lips.
His hands were on my shoulders, feeling my back. I kissed the side of his lips, his cheek, his jaw, and down towards his neck. I knew how good Noah smelled, but taking him in this close was so different. I let my lips part and taste his skin, too, and he lifted his shoulder. I moved back a little.
“You don’t like that?” I asked.
“No, I really fucking like that. Do it again,” Noah said.
I did. I was kissing, nibbling, and sucking slowly on the skin of his neck. He made a sound; it was a soft moan, and it warmed me to my bones. I kissed my way back up to his lips, and when I reached him, he kissed me hungrily. His hands tangled in my hair, and his kisses started picking up speed, demanding more. I broke apart from him, and he tried to follow me. I stared at his beautiful green eyes and kissed him again, just once.
“Let me keep it slow, okay? I just want to make sure I don’t miss anything,” I asked.
He smiled. “You’re unreal,” he whispered.
I kissed him again. I slid my hand down his back, feeling my fingers tangle at the side of his shirt. I paused and then got my hand into it, feeling the soft skin over his ribs like I had thought about doing so many times.
“I don’t know if I hate this shirt or love it,” I told him, kissing his jaw. His skin was warm against my lips, and the rumble of his laugh vibrated through my chest.
“You fucking love it. Why do you think I wear it so much?” he said, his voice laced with humor.
I smiled against the skin of his neck, breathing in his scent before kissing him again. I moved my hand over his arm, feeling the firm muscles from his elbow to his shoulder and back. I couldn’t believe I got to touch him like this.
“You really like my arms,” he said.
I nodded. I moved to look down at him again, and his eyes sparkled with amusement.
“So that was for my benefit?” I asked.
“I like how you look at me.”
My eyes flicked down to his lips.
“You’re terrible at hiding how much you like me—at least how much you like how I look,” he added, his smile stretching wider.
“It’s not just how you look,” I told him, meeting his eyes again.
His smile faded a bit, replaced by a softer expression. I let my hand slip to his back, feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt. He shifted to make room for me.
“I’d have to be very fucking hot to get you to clean my apartment and do my laundry,” he said.
My smile broke out, and then I laughed, resting my forehead on his shoulder. He joined in, running his nails up and down my back. I breathed him in, let my weight drop on him, and rested my head close to his neck. I moved my other arm towards his back, hugging him.
“Atty,” he said, his voice slightly strained.
“Yeah?” I asked, moving closer and kissing his neck again .
“What you’re doing right now, it’s pretty cute, and I don’t want you to move, but…”
I smiled, knowing what he was going to say. I held on to him a little tighter, and he groaned.
“But…” I repeated after him.
“You’re fucking heavy.”
I chuckled softly, pulling my arms from under him and lifting some of my weight off him. He breathed in relief.
“You were the one that wanted me over you,” I reminded him.
“I did, I do. I love how it feels. I just can’t breathe,” Noah said, making me smile again. He pulled on my shirt. “Hey, why did you stop kissing me? Come back up here,” he said.
I kissed his neck again. “I just really like feeling you this close,” I said, looking down at his face again.
His expression clouded, and his eyes wandered to my lips. He touched his fingertips to the side of my face. “Atty, I need you to know something.”
I waited for him to go on. His gaze were serious, almost pleading.
“I’m shit at this, at being with someone. I don’t know how to do it, and I always screw it up. I don’t want to hurt you, so it’s up to you, okay? You have to be the one putting on the brakes.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I said.
He gave a short, frustrated chuckle.
“I’m serious. Explain it to me,” I added quietly.
His face softened again. “I don’t know how to savor it. I sort of burn through it fast,” he tried to explain. Knowing him, that made sense. It sounded like him. His tousled hair fell into his eyes, and I had to resist the urge to brush it away.
“I’ll slow you down. That’s what you want me to do, right?” I asked.
“Yeah, that’s exactly right, and I just know it’s going to be worse with you, so you need to stick with it,” he told me .
“Why would it be worse with me?”
“Because you’ve seen me, the real me, and for some reason, you still want me, and I just really fucking want you, so, so bad. You’ve seen how bad it can get. I don’t have to pretend anymore, and I don’t think that’s necessarily a good thing,” Noah told me.
But I just registered the part where he said he wanted me. He made my stomach flip. The way his lips parted slightly when he spoke, the vulnerability in his voice—it was all too much and not enough.
“You want me?” I asked.
He smiled, a small, almost shy curve of his lips. “You’re missing the point here. I don’t know how to do slow, Atty, and I don’t want to do slow with you,” he insisted.
“I’m good at slow.”
He gave an amused huff. “I know. That’s why I’m telling you, you have to put on the brakes,” Noah said.
I could do that. I could do that for him. I’d do anything for him.
“Okay, I get it. I’ll do that,” I said.
He smiled, leaning up to kiss me again. “Let’s go back to my bed.”
I bit my lip. “Is this a test?” I asked.
He threw his head back, laughing. He pushed me back, and I sat on the couch again.
“No, it’s not. Let’s watch TV, cuddle, and make out. Like we’re teenagers,” he said, holding his hand out to me. That sounded like a fantastic plan to me.
“We are teenagers,” I pointed out, grabbing his hand and walking after him.
“You’re a teenager. I’m twenty,” he said.
I blinked. “Seriously?” I asked. How did I not know this?
“Yeah, I flunked out a year in high school and haven’t been responsible about college. I’m turning twenty-one in January,” he said, climbing on the bed .
“I was sure you were nineteen.”
He smiled while shaking his head at me. I got in after him, and he curled on my side instantly, getting under my arm and pulling it over him. He kissed my neck and then my jaw. Even when he was tired, he was restless.
“Nope. When’s your birthday?”
“In October,” I said.
He stopped before kissing me and hovered over me. “You’re kidding.”
“No, I’d just had my birthday when we met. I graduated early,” I said.
He looked like he was doing the math. His eyes raced from side to side, and his lips parted. “I’m almost three years older than you? That can’t be right,” he said, shaking his head. “You don’t look that young,” he said absently.
I chuckled. “You don’t look that old.”
He narrowed his eyes, half-smiling, looking a little offended. “Funny. How does it feel to date an older man? You’ve turned into quite a rebel after the goody-two-shoes act.”
I bit my lip. Dating? Is that what we were doing? It sounded nice. I grabbed his neck and pulled him back to my lips.
“How do they not card you?” he asked.
I smiled again before I kissed him. I loved his lips. “Noah, just stop talking,” I told him, and he nodded, practically grinning against my lips.
We stayed curled up in his bed for the rest of the afternoon, alternating between making out and talking. I got him to eat again and then went back to bed. He fell asleep curled up next to me while I stroked his hair. I had never felt this close to anybody before. I wasn’t sure how to lead the pace here, because I was pretty sure I would fall in love with him. I wasn’t sure how much I could slow him down if I did.
When I did.