15. Izzy
15
IZZY
I’m not expecting Noah to already be in the classroom when I enter it, but he’s sitting at our desk. He usually arrives as close to the bell as possible every morning. I assume it’s so he can avoid having to listen to everyone talk about him. But he’s shown up early today, and I can’t help but think it’s for me.
I walk toward him, and I don’t know why my stomach feels like it’s doing backflips when we’ve sat next to each other every morning since the first day of school. Things feel different after our conversation last night though.
It was nice to talk to him like that, even if we were mainly speaking about the ridiculous plan I’ve come up with. I’m still surprised he’s agreed to go along with it, but I’m grateful he’s willing to take a chance and didn’t go running for the hills instead.
Noah’s attention is focused on his phone, but when he looks up and notices I’m nearly at our desk, he pulls my chair out for me. The unexpected gesture has my steps faltering, and I can feel my face getting warmer.
Last night, I never mentioned him having to do anything like that, so it’s not something I expected.
I like it more than I should.
I can’t hide the smile on my face as I sit down.
“Hey,” he says casually, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. I’m still waiting to see his full smile.
“Hi. Thanks for that,” I say, as he gently pushes the chair forward to tuck it under the desk.
“It’s nothing.”
It feels like something to me.
He keeps his hand on the back of my chair, his fingertips brushing my spine in a way that sends shivers down it. I don’t take my eyes off Noah, but I can feel the whole class looking at us.
“Weird, right?” he says, his gaze focused on me. “How you can feel all their eyes on you?”
“Very weird,” I confirm, and then I’m hit with a wave of annoyance at myself. Noah’s been dealing with this every day since school started, and I’ve made it worse for him.
I chew on my lips, my hands tightening in my lap. But then Noah’s hand is pressed flat against my back, and I instantly relax into his touch.
“Don’t worry,” he says quietly, turning his full body to face me, his knee grazing my thigh. “They’ll get bored soon.”
“How does this not bother you?” I ask him. It’s barely been a couple of minutes, and I already want to yell at everyone to tell them to stop.
And even though he may not be, I am extremely bothered right now. I blame it on everyone looking at us rather than the supernaturally heightened feeling I have in every place that he’s touching me.
“I knew it would happen when I joined. They’re going to talk regardless, so why should I let it get under my skin?”
It’s such a level-headed answer that it throws me. He’s completely right though. Everyone formed an opinion without even talking to him. He could either let it get to him or not, and he’s chosen not to.
“That’s very mature of you,” I tell him.
From the moment I walked in, I felt some mixture of anger, embarrassment, or something else bubbling under the surface and threatening to spill out. It would be all too easy to raise my voice and tell them to look elsewhere, but that would just be feeding into what they want.
Noah just shrugs, his hand still on my back, and his body still turned to me, when Mrs. Harper enters the room. She takes attendance and does some general announcements, but I can’t pay attention to anything because my focus is entirely concentrated on where Noah is still touching me. If people weren’t talking about us before, they certainly will now.
Mrs. Harper dismisses us, and everyone stands up to go to their first class of the day. Noah doesn’t, though—his hand moves lazily up and down my back, and I can’t move for fear that he’ll see just how fast my heart is beating. I try to focus on something else, because I don’t want to think about how good this all feels.
Then I remember something I thought of last night, once we parted ways, and I went back to my room. It’s something that might help convince people, especially Ryan, that Noah and I really like each other.
“I was thinking last night,” I clear my throat, my voice coming out breathy. “Maybe I can show up at your practices? It might make Ryan realise I’m really over him if he sees me cheering you on.”
Noah’s lips quirk up again.
“That would be nice. I could come to yours, too?” He suggests, and it’s a great idea. Ryan never came to any of my practices or games, so Noah showing up will make everyone think we’re serious about each other.
“I’d like that,” I tell him. He nods, finally moving his hand off my back and his knee away my thigh as he picks up his backpack. I feel cold all of a sudden. The classroom is empty now, everyone else lingering in the hallways until first period starts.
“Oh, and we can’t tell anyone either,” I lower my voice as I lean closer to him, just in case anyone comes back in. “That this is all fake.”
He lets out a soft laugh at that. I don’t know what was funny about what I said though. If people find out it’s fake, it’ll be even worse. Noah moves closer to me until his face is barely inches away from mine.
“You might not have noticed,” he whispers. “But you’re the only person who talks to me.”
He’s passing it off as something light, but it upsets me. I hate that everyone has written him off because of baseless rumours about him.
“Everyone else is horrible anyway,” I huff out. I sound childish, but it’s better than showing him how angry it makes me. He doesn’t respond, but the tilt of his lips is enough.
We both stand up as the warning bell rings. We have biology first, and we’ve already developed a routine of walking to classes together since we share so many of the same ones.
There’s an awkward distance between us as we leave the room. Any work we did to convince people this is real is slowly fading away.
“Come closer,” I say quietly, the noise of other students in the hallway helping to cover it up. “It has to look like we’re actually together.”
Noah doesn’t hesitate before stepping closer to me, our arms brushing as we walk down the hallway. His pinky finger grazes mine, like it did the day my parents didn’t show up. But this time it isn’t for comfort. There’s a silent question in it and I simply nod.
He pulls my hand into his, locking our fingers together, and it feels like my entire body is on fire. Every single cell comes to life, and my nerves are electrified.
I’m suddenly all too conscious of the rough calluses on my hands from years of playing hockey. I shift my hand, trying to give him only the soft parts of it. I feel the way his head turns, and when I look up at him, there’s concern in his eyes.
“Is this okay?” he asks, leaning his head down to whisper in my ear, and sending shivers down my entire body.
“Yeah, it’s okay,” I say, breathless, like all the air has been sucked out of my lungs. I force out a breath, trying to hide the strange reaction my body seems to be having to just holding hands with Noah.
“You sure?” His mouth grazes the shell of my ear, and all I can do is nod, every rational thought leaving my mind.
He moves his head away, but keeps my hand tucked in his as we reach the classroom. If anyone was staring at us on the way here, I have no idea, because everyone else ceased to exist apart from Noah.
* * *
I’ve missed the ball more times than I’ve hit it, and I can feel everyone’s frustration with me.
Miss. Khan blows her whistle, and we all move to the side to take a quick break before we play the next half of the match. I avoid talking to anyone, keeping to myself as I sip my water.
I thought if I kept playing I would get over whatever hangups I had at the start of the year, but it’s just gotten worse. I figured I was just out of practice and that’s why I didn’t enjoy hockey as much, but after forcing myself to play for these past few weeks, I know for a fact that my heart isn’t in it anymore.
The whistle blows again, and I drop my bottle before making my way back onto the field, my stick gripped firmly in my hands.
The next fifteen minutes are a disaster. Every time the ball gets passed to me, I either miss it completely or manage to get it and still fumble somehow. Some of the other girls have started avoiding passing to me completely, shooting far past me to someone else, even when I’m clearly open. I don’t take it too personally, though—I wouldn’t want to play with me either.
When the whistle blows again to signal the end of the game and practice, I let out a huge sigh. I drop my stick, standing with my hands on my hips as I tilt my head backward to face the sky for a second, taking deep breaths to try and centre myself. You can do this, Izzy. It’ll all be fine.
I pick my stick back up and hurry to gather my things from the side before making my way up the stairs. Most of the girls are still lingering on the field, and I want to leave before anyone can speak to me.
“Izzy.”
Noah’s voice startles me and I miss a step, almost falling flat on my face as I reach the top of the stairs. He grabs my arm to stop me from colliding with the ground, steadying me.
“Everything okay?” Concern lines his voice, and I hate the fact that he just saw how terribly I played. I know I told him it would be a good idea to show up, but I didn’t really think it through. It’s embarrassing that he saw me miss every shot I tried to take.
“Just tired.” I shrug out of his grip, and he drops his hand instantly. I start walking away from him but he follows behind me. I realise my frustration with him is misplaced so I slow my steps and we fall into line side by side.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, gently as he tucks his hands into his pockets.
A deep sigh escapes me, all my thoughts about quitting threatening to spill out at his question. But what do I have to lose? Noah doesn’t know anything about me so he’s probably the easiest person to talk to about this.
“I don’t know if I want to play hockey anymore,” I say, my steps heavy as I drag my feet.
“How long have you played?” His question catches me off guard again, like they always seem to do. I expected a different response, maybe something like I should just suck it up and keep playing. But he seems genuinely curious.
“Since Year Eight. We did it in PE, and I really liked it, so I joined the team. But last year, I don’t know, it just wasn’t the same anymore. I don’t get that same spark of joy that I used to.”
“So why did you keep going this year?”
I know we’re meant to be in a pretend relationship, but this doesn’t feel like the right time to start spilling all the secrets of my past. I don’t want to tell him about Isaac and his argument with my parents so that I could play, or how those same parents abandoned him, and then I did the same to them.
I know enough about Noah to know that he won’t judge me harshly for any of that, but it’s still not something I’m comfortable sharing with a lot of people. I didn’t even tell Ryan about it; maybe that should have been my biggest sign that our relationship wasn’t what I thought it was.
“I feel like I have to?” I glance up at the sky. The heavy clouds scattered above diminish all my hopes of seeing the stars tonight. “I think I owe it to the girls to keep playing. It’s our last year and then we won’t have this shared thing anymore.”
I stop myself, a lump rising in my throat.
“I’m sure they’d understand.” He steps closer to me, his arm grazing mine before he moves away again. That tiny bit of contact soothes me more than it should. “You shouldn’t keep doing something if it makes you unhappy.”
It sounds so simple when he says it, but I can’t seem to rationalise it in my head. When we reach the split for the dorms, I expect us to stop walking like yesterday. Instead, Noah keeps walking toward my building, silently guiding me there.
“I need to think about it more before I make any big decisions.”
“I get that,” he says as we reach the main door. “Whatever you decide to do, I hope it makes you happy.”
“Thanks, Noah.” I smile at him, and he gives me that half smile back. I’m getting closer.
He opens the door for me, and I walk through it, feeling a little lighter than I did before.