Sixteen Noah
sixteen
Noah
Noah clung to Ramin as they zipped down the streets of Bellagio, the sun on his skin, the wind in his hair, but Noah barely noticed. He desperately thought about to-do lists at work and emails he hadn’t sent and chores he’d neglected back home.
Anything to stop himself from getting hard.
It was nearly impossible, nestled up against Ramin’s backside. His hands circling Ramin’s chest. Ramin’s scent filling his lungs. The Vespa’s motor throbbing beneath only made matters worse.
On the one hand, this was the best thing ever. A totally platonic excuse to hold Ramin the way he’d been wanting to.
On the other hand, this was torture, because platonic was all it could ever be.
Ramin wasn’t into him like that. He was too busy mourning his breakup.
He’d barely even looked at Noah the whole day.
Maybe Noah should’ve helped him get away.
He was clearly trying to avoid lunch. Angela would’ve been relieved.
But Noah wanted Ramin with them. He liked Ramin’s company. Nonna was clearly smitten with him, too.
Plus, if Noah was busy entertaining Ramin, then Angela could have the one-on-one time with Jake she wanted.
Give them both an idea of what it would be like, just the two of them.
(Not that Noah wanted them to like it, but he pushed that thought away.
That wasn’t fair to Angela, and it wasn’t fair to Jake.)
“You good?” Ramin called back.
“I’m good.” As good as he could be when every muscle was tense with resisting the urge to dig his nose into that soft spot behind Ramin’s ear, or rest his chin on Ramin’s shoulder, or drag his teeth down the cord of Ramin’s neck.
He tightened his grip a bit as Ramin hit the gas, and Ramin flinched.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Ramin shouted back.
And then: “I might have gotten a tattoo yesterday.”
“You what ?” Noah hoped that didn’t come out judgy. He wasn’t critical, just surprised. “That’s cool!”
“Not with all the chafing!”
Noah laughed, the tightness in his chest loosening. Who was this new Ramin? He never would’ve imagined the shy, quiet guy he knew twenty years ago would grow up to be a pierced and tattooed international man of mystery. The kind of man that knew who he was and what he wanted.
Noah wished he knew how to be that way.
The drive wound farther into the hills, away from the bustling city center, along a treelined street filled with quaint villas and apartments. People walked along the side of the road, on their way to the city or back home, laughing and talking and smiling in the sun.
Despite himself, Noah loved it. The blue sky above, the blue-green lake below, the friendly locals.
Jake probably loved it, too. He really could be happy here, couldn’t he?
Fishing with Nonno, taking walks with Nonna, going to school, living in some sort of fancy villa with Angela.
What did Noah have to offer compared to that?
A cramped apartment, public school, no family but what the two of them made?
Unbidden, the image of Jake holding Ramin’s hand popped into his mind.
Of Jake tracing Ramin’s tattoos with a gentle finger, Ramin softly explaining their meanings.
Ramin listening patiently, like Jake was the most interesting person in the world, as he told a meandering story about the last time he and Noah had gone fishing in the Ozarks.
Noah shook himself. When had he taken his hands off the driver’s wheel of his own life?
Where was the Noah who escaped his parents’ house at eighteen? Who fell in love? Who cut off his parents when they became unbearably toxic?
He missed that Noah. He hadn’t realized just how much.
But Ramin made him want to be that Noah again.
Tomaso and Maria lived in a small villa painted a cheery saffron yellow, with evergreen awnings on all the windows. As Ramin parked the Vespa, Angela helped Jake out of the car, just in time for him to let out a huge belch. “Excuse me,” he said, rubbing his stomach.
“You okay, Jakey?” Noah’s foot caught as he hopped off the Vespa, but Ramin was right there to save him from tripping.
He gave Ramin a thankful smile and knelt by Jake to feel his forehead.
He didn’t know why; truth be told he’d never once been able to accurately diagnose a fever this way.
But it made him feel better, and it made Jake feel better, too. “Car sick?”
Jake shrugged.
“He needs some food,” Angela said. “All he had this morning was a banana.”
“It won’t take long,” Maria said as Tomaso let them into the villa, the wine from earlier tucked under his arm.
Noah hung back with Ramin and took in the view.
They were near the top of a hill, and through a gap in the trees, they could see the lake below and the sky above.
Big puffy clouds were rolling in, a bit gray on the bottoms. The breeze carried a hint of sweet petrichor.
Noah breathed in deep. “Smells like rain.”
“I thought so, too,” Ramin said. “Sorry for crashing family time. Again.”
“Don’t be,” Noah said. “Just don’t tell Jake about your new tattoo.”
Ramin covered his face. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I think it’s cool,” Noah said. “I hope you’ll show it to me sometime.”
Ramin’s eyes went big. His cheeks turned red.
Noah hadn’t meant it that way. But he wouldn’t mind seeing Ramin with his shirt off. Or more, for that matter.
He wouldn’t mind at all.
But that was no excuse for making Ramin uncomfortable.
“Sorry, that came out super weird!” Noah pinched at his cross. “I meant, maybe you can show me a picture of the design?”
“Oh. Yeah. Of course!” Ramin reached up to twist one of his earrings.
That was one disaster averted, but still, Noah really needed to get a grip.
He’d managed to control himself on the ride—barely—though it had left him feeling aroused and unsettled. He couldn’t let his imagination run wild now, even if he really did wonder what Ramin looked like without his clothes on.
“Come on. Let’s see if Maria needs help.”
He let Ramin go first, so he wouldn’t see Noah adjusting himself.
“Nonna!” he called. “What do you need us to do?”