Chapter 21 Noah
Noah
I wake up with a gasp, spotting Torin sitting on my desk chair in the early morning light.
“Fuck. How long have you been sitting there?” I ask.
The look on his face is tired but his hair looks like a glowing halo in the sun.
“All night,” he tells me.
I exhale, pushing back the covers. “If anyone else said that, I’d be so supremely creeped out. But it’s you, so…”
His eyes rake over me. “It’s me.”
“Why aren’t you in bed? Wait, were you serious when you said all night? Did you sleep at all?” I ask, wiping the sleep from my eyes.
He shakes his head, standing to cross the room. “I’ll be right back.”
I get up and see that it’s only eight in the morning.
Outside, it looks like the ideal summer day. A little bit of dew still burning off of the grass and trees, birds hopping around in the garden, and an orange butterfly floating through the air.
So why does something feel off with Torin?
He returns a few minutes later with one of my short espresso cups in his hand.
“Here. I tried to make it like you do,” he says, putting the cup onto my bedside table.
“You made me an espresso,” I say, marveling at the sight of it. “It even has the proper crema on the top. Damn.”
“Hope it’s to your standards, coffee king.”
I hum as I take a sip. “It’s great. A hot guy bringing me coffee in the morning is something I could get used to.”
I look away the moment the words leave my mouth.
It’s getting harder and harder to remember that getting used to anything with Torin isn’t a good idea, and certainly not something I should say.
But he doesn’t seem to catch it.
He comes over and sits on the mattress next to me, and I can see the hint of dark circles under his eyes.
“You should get ready after you finish it. We have plans today.”
“Damn. Should I be excited?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Maybe. You get to spend time with me, so I assume you’re already rock hard at the prospect of it.”
“Oh, fuck off,” I say with a smile. “Fine. I’m down for a mysterious outing, even though I know there has to be some actual reason you’re doing it.”
Torin exhales, pushing his hair back from his face.
“Maybe I just want to be with you off campus for a day.”
My heart skips. “I see.”
I try to tell myself that Torin saying he wants to “be with me” doesn’t mean the same thing that my overeager mind assumes.
I toss back a sip of espresso, standing up and stretching. I’m ready to head out within twenty minutes, and he stays by my side as we head downstairs.
“Let’s leave from the back,” he says, cutting me a glance.
“Torin, I’ve left from the front door many times this week. It’s not like some guy is going to be standing out there waiting for me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Fine. The back is good.”
We walk out onto the back patio. Weston and Sev are out there swimming already, and I wave as Torin and I walk out through the gate at the side of the yard.
“Hope your shoes are comfortable, because we’ve got a long walk,” Torin says as we head down the edge of Red Row, heading toward campus.
“And you’re still not going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Nope. You’ll find out.”
As we walk, I can’t tell if Torin is acting differently today because he hasn’t slept or because of something else.
I feel his hand against mine when we’re reaching the edge of campus.
He slides his fingers through mine, holding my hand, even though he’s barely said a word to me during our walk.
I glance around, worried that he saw some sort of threat at first. But there’s nothing.
He’s just holding my hand.
Because he fucking feels like it.
I struggle to act normal, reminding myself that to him, it’s likely just another physical touch that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.
“Do you ever pretend you’re a tourist in your own city?” I ask him.
“Hmm?”
I nod toward the cobbled sidewalks that lead down into the town surrounding Crimson College.
People are out, going for runs and walking dogs and pushing babies in strollers.
“I don’t usually come down here, just because everything I need is on campus. So when I do, I kind of feel like I’m a tourist, even though I could come here anytime I wanted.”
“So you go into museums and ask people for directions?”
I snort. “No. I just notice things. Like that oak tree, with all the carvings in it,” I say, pointing over to one of the trees that line the street.
“Or like that sex toy shop with the dragon-dick dildos in the window,” Torin says. My eyes snap to the side and he pinches my hip, giving me a wicked grin. “Damn, that made you look.”
I smile. “Fuck off.”
“I think I feel like a tourist everywhere I go,” Torin finally says, looking up at the light filtering through the trees.
“I’ve traveled so much, and I plan on doing it forever.
When I started working at the hardware store, I was only fifteen.
Every single penny I made I saved up for a volunteering trip.
And then I did it again, and then again. ”
“Where was the first place you went?”
“Rural Louisiana. It was gorgeous. Humid, but so beautiful and green. We repaired fences around elementary schools on that trip.”
“And thus began your Mr. Perfect arc.”
Torin shakes his head, and I see a serious expression land on his face. “I never feel like I’m doing enough, if you want the honest truth.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “You don’t think you’re doing enough? How is that humanly possible?”
“Because I know how much the world needs. Nothing could ever be enough.”
“But… you do everything you can. And then some.”
He cuts me a glance. “Noah, I need you to know something.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not trying to replace you,” he says, and I’m stunned by his choice of words. “When I first got to Onyx House, I may or may not have overheard you talking with Weston one morning.”
“Oh, God,” I groan. “Does that mean you eavesdropped on purpose?”
“Yes. It absolutely does.”
“For fuck’s sake, Torin.”
“I’m sorry. I was new in the house, and I was pretty sure you were talking shit about me. And you were.”
“I wasn’t talking shit,” I protest, squeezing his hand. “I was just… threatened.”
He nods. “That’s what I gathered. But I’m not trying to be a better son to your father. That sounds exhausting anyway.”
We cross a tiny footbridge that leads over a riverlet in the road. The honeysuckle along the path is fragrant, filling the air with a sweet smell.
“Then why were you so hostile to me?” I ask.
“Because I thought you pitied me. And I don’t take well to pity.”
“Why the fuck would I pity you?”
He gives me a look. “Come on. You know why.”
“I really don’t.”
He squeezes my hand and then lets it go, pausing for a moment at the end of the bridge.
“Because you come from money, and I don’t.”
“Torin, you know I don’t judge that—”
“But I do,” he interjects. “I judge. Too much. And I want it to stop.”
I’m stunned into silence. I nod, watching his face. “Wow.”
“I judged you for what you were born into, from the moment I met you. I never hated you, Noah, but I couldn’t understand you. I worked like hell for the resources I could get, but you had everything, and you just wanted to drink and party and get in trouble.”
“I know.”
“But I was wrong about that, too,” Torin says, his eyes regarding me intently. “I didn’t fucking know you. There’s so much under the surface, Noah. You’re so different from anyone else I’ve known. I swear there isn’t a judgmental bone in your body.”
His hand finds its way to my hip.
I take a step forward, marveling at the way he looks with the honeysuckle framing him from behind.
Like a fallen god.
Or a classic beauty.
My heart thuds.
Oh God, I like you too much.
I swallow, giving him a shallow nod. “It’s okay. I mean, I’ll still sock you in the face if you fuck with any of my friends, or something, but the past is the past.”
His expression suddenly shifts again, like a cloud passing.
And the silver of his eyes becomes radiant.
“And I’m still going to fuck with you, too. Mercilessly. Whenever I feel like it.”
“Psycho.”
“You love it.”
He leans in and catches me in a kiss. It’s unhurried and feels so unbelievably… normal.
The two of us, kissing each other, out in the world, not trapped within the four walls of my room.
It’s nice to pretend how good it could be.
If we weren’t… us.
“Come on,” he says, dragging his fingers through my hair before reaching back for my hand again.
We head down a side road I’ve never been on before. For a while, it’s a residential walk, past quaint little homes with overgrown yards. Then he takes a turn onto another cobblestone street that has a few small shops along the sides.
I catch the smell of roasting coffee in the air and I’m like Pavlov’s dog.
“Holy fuck, that is heavenly,” I tell him.
“Here,” he says, leading me to the quiet intersection, framed by maple trees. “They’re not connected, they’re actually just next to one another. But there’s a used bookstore and a coffee shop on the same corner.”
“How have I never seen this before?” I ask, marveling as we walk up to the cafe.
It’s called Star Point, and it has a navy banner in front.
“The cafe just opened a few weeks ago, apparently,” Torin says. “The bookstore’s been here longer.”
We head inside and I grab a cappuccino, and Torin gets a cold brew. We take our drinks over to the bookstore, and from the moment I walk in, I feel like I just entered a time capsule.
It’s magical inside. Tall shelves line every corner of the place, completely filling every inch with books. Each nook has a couple of people in it, browsing through the offerings, and there are incredible paned skylight windows along the angled ceiling, letting light filter through from above.
“What the fuck?” I whisper. “This is the best place I’ve ever been.”
I beeline for the reference books section, checking out any book they have about Latin.