Chapter Fourteen So Now I Have a Real Date?
When we leave Noah’s house, we walk through the subdivisions behind Gordon Park.
“Hey, I need to ask you something,” I say. “My mom told me about the next event they want me at. It’s a barbecue at LeClair Industries—apparently a big one they do for staff every year. I asked if I can bring you, and she said yes. Do you want to come?”
Noah shakes his head, amazed. “They actually said you could bring me to another LeClair event? One at the actual plant?”
Maybe he won’t want to go to the plant as a guest of the LeClairs? “Yeah. Is that a problem? If you don’t want to come, you don’t have to.”
He laughs. “Yeah, I’ll come. I’m shocked they want me there. That’s all.”
“Mom specifically said you’d be welcome.
We were arguing at the time, but I’m not breaking any rules.
” I pause. “Your dad seems really…” I want to say “smart,” but I think that might imply that I didn’t expect him to be smart, which isn’t the case.
“I mean, I like what he said about services for kids. Maybe he should run for city council.”
Noah shakes his head. “Nah, he’d hate that. And there’s no way he’d ever win anyway. We don’t exactly have the best reputation in town. But yeah, Dad’s a good guy. Now.”
“How old were you when he stopped drinking?”
Noah’s eyes are focused straight in front of him. “Nine. I was five when I learned to turn him onto his side to make sure he didn’t choke on his vomit.”
I shake my head. “You should’ve stayed in the city with your mother.”
He shrugs. “I didn’t have a choice. Mom didn’t really want me. I remind her too much of Dad. Besides, Dad and Aaron always got worse when I wasn’t here. They need me.” His voice is wooden as he speaks. I can’t imagine what it would be like to grow up that way.
I squeeze my lips together, shaking my head. To me it seems like his father is asking too much of Noah. “Okay, but that’s not fair to you.”
Noah doesn’t respond. He seems like a different person from the silly guy I made tree puns with a few days ago. And the lightly teasing flirty guy. But it’s all Noah.
“Your father hasn’t relapsed since Jason’s visit?”
Noah shakes his head. “Not even once. He’s doing great.”
Jason technically saved this family, but I think his help was too little, too late.
Yeah, throwing money at the problem and giving Mike a job helped, but money is cheap for someone as rich as Jason.
He didn’t stay in Mike’s life, even though they used to be best friends.
He didn’t give the family any emotional support.
Noah didn’t grow up with an actual Uncle Jason, like Sadie did.
Noah is the one who saved the Jacobs family. He’s the glue that holds his father together instead of following his own dreams. Noah, the guy who doesn’t want me to lose myself as I reach for my own goals. He deserves so much more than this.
“Does your dad want you to try to be a musician instead of working at the plant?”
Noah’s brows knit together. He finally shakes his head. “He says there’s no point. He doesn’t trust the industry. I think he was secretly happy when…”
There’s something he’s not telling me about his music or his future in Cherrybridge. But that’s okay. I don’t want to press too much.
“It’s kind of like my mom and this curse,” I say.
“My mom would never let me make my own relationship choices, good or bad, because she said the curse would get me like it did her, so I wasn’t allowed to even talk to a boy until I was seventeen.
And then when I finally had freedom, I made a monumentally bad decision.
Maybe because I had never been given the chance to make a small bad decision first.” Huh.
I’ve never actually thought about it that way.
How much of me going along with Gabe’s dumbass ideas was because he was my first date and I didn’t know what I was doing?
Noah has a confused expression, and I chuckle. I never did tell him about my curse.
“Oh. I guess I should explain this to you,” I say.
I tell him the whole story, going back to my great-great-grandmother who pulled a gun on her fiancé, down to my mom getting pregnant by the sperm donor, who ran off to India, never to be found again.
I even tell him about my spreadsheet, and my necklace to avoid the curse—which might or might not be working.
Noah raises a brow when I’m done. He looks like he’s trying hard not to laugh at me.
“It’s okay. Mock me if you must,” I say. “I recognize how ridiculous it sounds.”
“You seriously all believe you’re cursed?” he asks.
“Yes. It’s hard not to when the evidence is right there. I mean, my first-ever date got me arrested. My grandmother says I will always have bad judgment in picking guys now, so I should get my family’s approval from now on.”
This time he does laugh at me. “Really? What year is this?”
I shrug, resigned to my fate. “I agree, the curse is super sexist. But it’s been historically proven, and I can’t really argue against true events. So I’m not planning to date. Ever.”
He snorts. “So that’s why we’re pretend dating and not really dating.”
“Exactly. But my mother thinks we’re really dating. I expected her to disapprove of our relationship and send me home, but she didn’t.” I frown. The fact that Mom didn’t forbid me to date Noah means either she knows that I’m bluffing or doesn’t care if he ruins my life at all.
Noah shakes his head. “I don’t think you’re cursed.
Bad stuff happens and people make mistakes.
There doesn’t need to be a cosmic reason behind it.
You didn’t recognize the warning signs because your family is strict, so you didn’t have enough experience to know that your date was bad news.
That doesn’t mean you’re cursed for life. ”
“Okay, yeah, bad stuff happens, but the very first dumb thing I did because of a boy shouldn’t get me a criminal record. And there were no warnings signs. Gabe was a high achiever, popular, and well liked. He freaking volunteered at a family shelter, teaching young boys hockey. The curse is real.”
He laughs again. “I don’t know, Noorani. It sounds like y’all have found a convenient way to blame the universe instead of society. Or instead of yourselves.”
I roll my eyes but don’t say anything. He may not believe it, but I one hundred percent believe in the curse.
Which is why I have to make sure this stays fake dating between us, and nothing more.
I fidget with my necklace while we walk.
The houses in this part of town are similar to Noah’s.
Row houses, semi-detached, or small two stories.
Some are in terrible condition, but many have nice plantings and mowed lawns in front of them.
“So,” Noah says slowly as if he’s figuring things out. “You wanted your mom to think you’re into me because the curse is affecting your judgment, right? That’s why you wanted me to look like a bad boy?”
“Yeah, sort of.” I frown. I did pick Noah to fake date because he looks the part of a stereotypical bad boy… but also because he was the only one who was nice to me in CROP. Because he made me laugh with his cheesy tree puns. Because he’s the only person here who I want to hang out alone with.
And because he doesn’t want me to lose myself while I’m reaching for my goals.
I do like Noah. A lot. And not just because I’m pretty sure there isn’t a better-looking guy in Cherrybridge, but also because he’s sweet, and amazingly talented, and so, so resilient.
He’s so much better than this town, and I hate that he’s stuck here.
But maybe, because of this damn curse, I shouldn’t be trusting my own judgment.
Noah doesn’t say anything for a while again. And I don’t say anything, because if I open my mouth, I’m afraid I’ll tell him how much I like him.
“Well, it’s a good thing our relationship is fake, then,” he finally says. “Because if we were really together, you telling me that you’re cursed to always pick the wrong guy would be a major hit to the tiny ego I have.”
Holy crap, he’s right. It would be a total insult—if our relationship were real. Noah has a little mischievous smile on his face. He’s making a joke.
I like that smile so much. Too much. I exhale. “Yeah, it’s a good thing it’s fake. Hey, you don’t mind that I came to check on you today, do you? I mean, I know this is a fake relationship, but we’re real friends, right?”
He smiles at me. “Yeah, we’re real friends, Noorani.”
I smile. The curse says nothing about me picking the wrong friends. I’ll be fine.
The next night, Mom and Jason are who knows where, but Mom orders me dinner from a Greek place.
While I’m eating, Sadie calls and asks if she and her friends can come over to use Jason’s pool.
She says they normally hang out in Kaitlyn’s pool, but her backyard is being redone.
After texting Mom and Jason, who say yes (probably because they prefer me hanging out with Sadie and her friends instead of Noah and the CROP kids), I tell Sadie yes.
An hour and a half later, Sadie’s friends and I are in the backyard for an impromptu pool party.
Sadie, Liv, Quinn, Kaitlyn, and I are on the lounge chairs near the fountain, and Reagan and James are in the water.
I’m wearing a new purple, much more stylish swimsuit that Mom bought me, with black jean shorts.
I was afraid that Sadie’s friends would bring alcohol again, but thankfully they didn’t bring anything but their swimsuits.
“So, how’s your jail sentence going, Meera?” James asks.
Reagan splashes her boyfriend with water. “Don’t be a jerk, James. She’s not in jail.”
“Yeah,” Quinn says. “It’s community service. Something I’m sure you’ll be familiar with one day.”