17. Izzy
17
IZZY
“Move closer so I can put my head on your shoulder.”
Noah shifts his body on the bench, yet somehow doesn’t get any closer to me. I take matters into my own hands, shuffling along until my thigh, arm, and entire right side are pressed against his left.
When Noah stiffens, I worry I’ve pushed him too far, too quickly. I lean away from him, trying to give him space again, but then his arm is around my shoulder, pulling me back into him.
“Is this okay?” he asks quietly.
My breath catches, goosebumps rising at the feel of his arm around me. His hand curls around my upper arm, his fingertips pressing lightly against my covered skin.
“It’s okay,” I say, hoping he doesn’t hear the waver in my voice.
I lift my phone up again, opening the camera so we can take a photo. We talked last night about what else we could do to convince people, and I thought hard launching us on Instagram would be a great idea. Now, though, I’m not so sure about that.
Noah and I have been trying to get more comfortable with each other, so we’ve been holding hands more, even when people aren’t around to see. I don’t know if it’s working, though, because my stomach is in knots every time.
When I suggested we take some photos so I could post them, Noah agreed straight away and we planned to do it after classes ended. So now here we are, sitting in our uniforms on one of the benches overlooking the playing fields, with his arm around me for the first time.
I angle the phone so we both fit in frame, but something still looks off. Even though we’re sitting so close to each other, there’s something that feels unnatural about it. I drop my hand to my lap, knowing exactly what the problem is but too worried to voice it.
“Can I try something?” I ask Noah, his body still rigid next to mine.
He hums in agreement, and I act before I can think too much about it.
I twist in my seat so that my back is pressed against half of Noah’s chest, nestling deeper into his side. I hear the shaky breath he lets out, feel it skim against the top of my ear.
“Is this okay?” Now it’s my turn to ask.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice somehow coming out like he’s completely unfazed by this. “Can I?”
I nod, too afraid to speak, and then his arm bands across my collarbones, pressing me even closer to him. I can feel his heart pounding in his chest, matching the same rhythm as mine.
I lift my phone again, aiming it so we’re both showing on the screen, and the image shocks me. We look like a real couple, our bodies fitting together perfectly like he was made to hold me like this.
Noah’s tongue peeks out of his mouth, running across his bottom lip and making heat rise through my whole body. I look away from him, focusing on myself and trying to will away the growing blush on my cheeks.
I turn the corners of my lips up into a smile, taking a few pictures of us before bringing my phone closer to my face to check through them. My pink cheeks show clearly but I guess that’s a good thing. Noah wears his polite smile, the one that he gives to teachers when they compliment his intelligence. I’m still wondering what it’ll take to see the real thing.
“You look really pretty,” he says and I can only hope he didn’t feel my heart skip a beat.
I turn my head slightly so I can see his face, observing it up close for the first time. His long, straight eyelashes skim the top of his cheeks when he blinks, and his jawline is even sharper from this angle.
“Not too bad yourself,” I tell him, somehow maintaining some semblance of calm. “Do you mind if I take some more?”
I have enough pictures, but I’m enjoying this far more than I want to admit. I like the solid feel of him behind me, like the way his arm is still crossed over my shoulders, grounding me. I like that I can feel the change in the beat of his heart for me.
Noah looks down at me, our faces dangerously close. If anyone walked past and glanced at us it would probably look like we were kissing. My phone drops out of my hand onto my lap, breaking my racing thoughts. I fumble to pick it up and then Noah’s hand covers mine as he takes it from me.
“I’ll do these ones,” he says, his eyes catching mine. I can only stare at him as I nod, words leaving me.
He tilts his head closer to mine, holding his arm up so he can position us in frame. My hands look awkward, folded together in my lap, so I do what feels natural and raise them to hold on to Noah’s arm. My fingers wrap around his forearm, and I can feel the way his heart picks up.
Noah takes a few pictures before bringing the phone closer so we can both look at it. These pictures look great too but I still can’t help but feel like there’s something missing.
“Is it… Can I… You can say no...” I fumble my way through trying to say what I want to say without being a creep. “Can I kiss your cheek?” His arm tenses and I move my fingertips back and forth, trying my best to relax him. “I don’t?—“
“Yeah,” he says, his voice laced with something heavy. “You can.”
I keep one of my hands on his arm as I move the other to his jaw. My fingertips run along the curve of it, gently guiding his face closer to mine so that I can reach his cheek. I tilt my head up, closing my eyes as I press my lips lightly to his skin.
I hear his sharp intake of breath, feel the unsteady exhale of it. My heart feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest.
My hand stays on his jaw, like it’s been glued there by something invisible, but I pull back so I can see Noah. His eyes are closed, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and I can see the faint colour on his cheeks.
“Great practice,” I whisper, just now remembering that he was supposed to take a picture of that.
“Really great,” Noah says, his eyes opening and his gaze dropping to me instantly.
I don’t know what we’re doing. I wasn’t supposed to kiss his cheek or cling to his arm while he held me, and I definitely shouldn’t be enjoying it this much. We were just meant to take some pictures.
“Let’s take this one and then we can head back to our rooms,” I tell him, forcing myself to remember that this is all meant to be fake.
It only feels nice because we’re pretending to be together. It’s a natural response for someone’s heart to beat faster if a cute guy is holding them; that’s all it is.
Noah doesn’t say anything. He just lifts my phone again, this time at a closer distance but still fitting us both in it. I close my eyes, my hand still curved around his jaw, as I kiss his cheek again and hold it for a few seconds so he can take a few pictures.
“All done,” he says, clearing his throat.
I open my eyes, taking my hand away from his jaw at the same time that he moves his arm so he’s no longer holding onto me. I let go of it, freeing him from the situation that I just put him in.
I move my body so I’m sitting upright again. I try to lean against the back of the bench, but it feels wrong, so I sit forward instead. Noah passes me my phone and before I can swipe through the photos he took, a single notification sucks every good feeling out of me.
Mum
Forward your university choices to us before you submit them.
I lock my phone, pressing the screen face down against my thigh and covering it with my hands. My nails dig into my thighs as I try to calm myself down. She hasn’t spoken to me in weeks. I’ve heard nothing from her since the last message where she said she would check her schedule and then never turned up anyway.
“Are you okay?” Noah asks, and I can’t bear to look at him yet. The last time I felt like this, he was there, too. I don’t want to seem so weak around him.
“I’m fine,” I lie, steeling myself so that I can get away from him before I lose the shred of composure I’m holding on to.
Noah’s arm brushes against mine as he leans forward, ducking his head so that he can see my face. I keep my eyes fixed on my phone, trying to avoid his gaze, but he doesn’t let me.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, and the nervousness in his voice is what makes me finally look at him.
His eyebrows are creased, his lips pressed into a thin line as he watches me. It makes sense why he would think that, but I don’t want him to worry that what I’m feeling right now is his fault.
“No, it’s not you,” I say, lifting my head to see him properly. “It’s my parents again.”
Noah sits upright, and I think he’s going to ask another question, but instead, he puts his arm around me again. He pulls me in closer to him and gently guides my head so it’s resting on his shoulder. I relax into him, closing my eyes and savouring this moment.
“I’m sorry they keep upsetting you,” is all he says. No questions, no asks for an explanation, nothing but an apology on behalf of two people who won’t even give me their own.
I stare ahead at the playing fields we’re overlooking, watching younger students run around kicking balls back and forth to each other. Noah slowly traces his fingertips back and forth across my upper arm, the gentle motion making me fall into him even more.
I don’t speak about my parents with anyone these days. The girls never ask out of kindness for me, and I avoid the topic with Isaac as much as I can. But maybe I can talk about them with Noah.
“I moved out of their house a few years ago,” I start. Noah’s fingers still for a second, but then he goes right back to that soft back-and-forth motion. “They made Isaac leave when he told them what he wanted to do at university. He hadn’t even turned eighteen yet.”
I think back to the wave of emotions I felt at that moment, listening from the top of the stairs as I heard my dad tell Isaac that he had to leave. Shock, anger, hurt, and sadness all swirling through me at once like a tsunami. I couldn’t understand how he said it so easily—still can’t understand it.
“Luckily, Isaac had enough people in his life that cared about him so he stayed with them over the summer before he moved into an apartment with his girlfriend, Violet.”
“Violet picked you up that day, right?” he says, and I nod. That day feels like a lifetime ago when it’s only been a few weeks.
“They made Isaac leave, so I left, too. I couldn’t stay in that house without him. We moved all my things out and now I live with Isaac and Violet.”
I don’t tell Noah about how easy it felt to leave, and the guilt that came with that. I know my parents gave me the best upbringing they could have, but I also know that doesn’t translate to them actually loving us. If they really did, they would have fought more for both of us.
“I didn’t talk to them for a while,” I continue. Noah drops his head to mine, his cheek resting on top as his fingers trace patterns across my arm. “Any time we did speak, it was only about school. I don’t know how Isaac convinced them, but they still pay my school fees, and I’m grateful for that.”
In more ways than one. I’m glad that I didn’t have to move school or leave my friends. And that I was here to meet Noah.
“I texted them to see if they would come to that university talk, and my mum said she’d check their schedules. And, well, you know what happened there,” I scoff. “This is the first text she’s sent me in weeks.”
It’s only when I’m silent, and Noah is, too, that I hear my heart crack open a tiny bit more—another disappointment from them when I shouldn’t have expected anything in the first place.
“You don’t have to reply to her,” Noah says, his free hand finding mine as he takes it in his palm. “I’m sorry for what you had to go through. Your brother, too.”
The backs of my eyes sting at his kind words, the soft voice that brings me far too much comfort. I close my eyes, calming my breathing so I don’t cry in front of him again like last time in the alcove.
Maybe that evening is the reason I feel so comfortable telling Noah all of this. He didn’t ask me any questions then, and he hasn’t now. Both times, he’s comforted me without expecting anything in return.
“Thanks,” I say, swallowing down the lump in my throat.
Noah’s fingers stop as he moves his head, and for a second, I think he’s leaving me, which causes another crack in my chest. I told him too much too soon, piled all my problems on him when he was merely being polite.
But he doesn’t leave. His fingers move to my neck, his hand curling around where my pulse is beating fast, as he presses a kiss to the top of my head.
“Thank you for trusting me,” Noah whispers, washing away every ounce of insecurity I felt. The crack gets mended, his words like melted gold being poured into my heart.
“Thank you for listening,” I tell him, and instantly feel the shake of his head against mine.
“You never have to thank me for that,” he says.
We sit like that for a while longer, hands joined, his head on mine, our bodies clinging together. And for every second that passes like that, the gold solidifies.