Chapter 38 Andie
Thirty Eight
Andie
I’ve wanted to be a teacher for so long, and eventually, I accomplished it.
I imagined teaching so many concepts and subjects. But never would I have imagined that someone would ask me to teach them how to love.
“Teach me how to love you, baby,” Noah repeats while all I can do is stare at him with eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.
“You want me to teach how to love?” I ask, incredulously as I search his eyes to discern if he’s jesting.
“I want you to teach me how to love you, Andie. Just you,” he specifies, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I’ve spent my entire life devoid and running away from that emotion.
Now, I want to change that. I want to experience all the colors you have filled my life with, my Rainbow. And love is one of them.”
A little smile plays on his lips by the time he’s done speaking.
“Why me?” I can’t help but ask, waiting for his answer with bated breath.
“Why not you, baby. You’re the only woman who’s ever seen behind the mask I wear like a second skin.
The only woman to remind me that the opposite sex exists.
The only woman to fill my life with so many new emotions, experiences, and memories, that now I look forward to what you’d do next.
I look forward to opening my eyes every morning and seeing that beautiful face of yours,” he lavishes me with praises that make my belly flutter and skin heat.
“You’re the only woman who makes me want to breathe, baby, even when you steal it whenever you walk into a room. ”
Noah’s brilliant green eyes sear into mine, reflecting the sincerity behind each of his words. His thumb traces my lower lip, parting it.
“I choose you, Andie. I choose to love you. I don’t know what it means to love, but for you, I want to learn.”
This man is a walking contradiction of his words. He says he doesn’t know how to love, then he goes ahead and says the sweetest thing to make my pulse race.
I’ve never been rendered speechless. But right now, if you’d ask me to recite the alphabet, I might just answer with numbers instead.
“Okay,” I nod and whisper softly. “I will teach you how to love.”
His lips lift into the smallest of smiles, and he extends his pinkie finger, “Promise?”
The flashback of when we first sealed the deal rushes back in at the small action. I wrap my little finger around his and press my thumb to his. “Promise,” I seal the deal with a kiss this time.
Soon, we both drift off to sleep, feeling a little lighter now that I told him how I feel, and happy that even though he didn’t say I love you back, he didn’t reject me.
I’ll shower him with so much love that he wouldn’t know what to do with it. After all, I have years to make up for.
* * *
The next morning, I stumble into the kitchen, rubbing away the sleep from my bleary eyes.
I stop short when I find him milling about in the kitchen in nothing but his underwear, Millie comfortably lying on the couch with my laptop on the table, though I remember leaving it on the table in my room.
My senses suddenly turn sharp, and I rove my eyes over the length of his body in the rare moment of silence.
Now that I know the truth behind his tattoos and scars, he looks even more enticing. Fury builds inside of me at the thought of everything he had to go through alone. Not anymore.
“Will you keep staring at me or give me a morning kiss?” Noah teases, mirth shining in his eyes as he continues to prepare breakfast, jarring me from my thoughts.
Relief washes over me at the playfulness in his tone. I’m glad he’s feeling better now. No use drowning yourself in the horrors of the past. Though it’s clear he’ll need some help.
But that’s a discussion for later. So, I pad over into the kitchen, rise on my toes, and plant a peck on his lips as he bends down. I was wrong if I thought he’d be satisfied with just a peck.
Grabbing my waist, he picks me up and effortlessly deposits me on the counter. A surprised squeal leaves my lips that he quickly swallows with a deep kiss as my hands find purchase on his broad shoulders.
My skin tingles when his tongue invades my mouth, toes curling as his hands wrap around me, squeezing my breasts. My breath hitches when his thumb flicks my piercing over his t-shirt I’m wearing.
“Now that’s how you give me a morning kiss,” he whispers against my lips. “Looks like I still have to teach you a few things.” The smug smile on his face makes him appear younger. And honestly, I enjoy this playful side of him.
I’m too flustered to say anything, so with a chuckle, he offers me a bite of the pancake he made. I open my mouth and let him feed me, keeping him stuck between my legs as I wrap them around him.
God, he’s such a good cook. “Where’d you learn to cook like that?” The question is out of my mouth before I can stop it.
He turns his head to the plate, buying himself some time before answering.
I open my mouth when he feeds me the next bite.
“You learn to make do with whatever is available when you have no one to cook for you,” he responds, a sad smile on his face.
“I also may have worked at a diner for some time back when I was in school. Picked up a thing or two,” he says, shrugging his shoulders as if it’s no big deal.
Soon, we’re both done with breakfast when he picks me up with his hands under my butt, and takes us to the couch. Millie opens her eyes, peeks at us, and goes back to sleep.
I move to get off his lap when Noah’s arms tighten around me. “Let me go. I need to feed Millie.”
“Already done,” he replies.
“That’s sweet of you,” I praise as my hands circle his neck, playing with the ends of his hair.
A groan slips free from his lips as his eyes flutter at the sensation, and my naked core buzzes over his clothed length. “What are your plans today?” I ask to distract myself. My nether region is still too sore from yesterday.
Because cherry Cheerios, this man knows what he’s doing!
Noah snuggles his head in my boobs and mumbles between them, “I’m fine right where I am, thank you.”
A giggle slips free from my lips at his cute response. “No, but seriously.”
With a sigh, he pulls back and plays with the end of my hair. “We don’t have a game or practice today. So, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to stay in with you. Laze around and keep clinging to you.”
“So, you’re the clingy type, huh?” I tease, loving this side of him.
“It was torture being away from you, so you bet your cute little ass, I’ll be clingy,” he scoffs as if it’s unimaginable for him to do anything else.
I tap my chin and pretend to think. “You know, clingy men might be a deal breaker for me,” I jest, seeing if he gets riled up.
His lips lift in a wicked smirk as he scratches the stubble on his chin. “Good thing, no one asked you then, you brat,” he says, his tone huskier as he twitches beneath me.
God, I love how easily he switches from this clueless, playful guy to a dominant man.
And while I’d love nothing more than to continue on the track this conversation is going, we have more important things to discuss.
It’s like he can sense the shift in my mood, because his eyes clear too. “What is it, Rainbow?”
“Please know that I love you and whatever I’ll say is because of that,” I preface, hoping he doesn’t get offended when I bring up what I’ve been thinking over all night.
A small smile plays on his lips. “I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.”
With a smile, my shoulders relax a bit, and I ask, “Have you ever had therapy or considered it? Or maybe talked about it with someone else?”
Thankfully, he doesn’t look offended, just confused. “No, just you. Why?” he says, shaking his head lightly.
My fingers wring together behind his neck, nervousness lacing my tone. “Well, after everything you told me you’ve been through, I really think that you should try talking to a therapist about it.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off, apprehensive that he’ll dismiss the idea.
“It’s not because I think something is wrong with you or that you can’t handle it.
It’s just that I’ve personally benefited from taking therapy, especially after I was on the verge of developing an eating disorder.
The abandonment, their sneers, and distasteful looks became too much at times, and I found a way to rebuild my confidence after talking to Dr. Laura.
She’s my therapist by the way,” I word-vomit, forgetting to breathe, hoping he’ll see that I want what’s best for him.
“Shhh,” Noah rubs his palm over the length of my thighs, causing goosebumps to spring. “Breathe, baby.”
Nodding, I mimic his breathing and calm down.
“Good girl.” There’s that flutter again in my belly. “Now, I’m not insecure enough to think less of therapy or get offended by the idea of taking it.”
My body relaxes at his words. “You’re not?” I still confirm.
“Mhmm,” he shakes his head. “It’s just that I’ve suppressed everything so far down that I don’t know how to reach it and open it up.
I honestly never considered therapy. All my life, my only goal has been to get out of my parents’ house, and after that, I spent all of myself on becoming the best goalie that I can be. ”
I nod, understanding dawning upon me. “I get that. Survival has been your prominent instinct.”
“Yeah, for so long. Tell me, baby, would therapy teach me how to love you?” His sudden question has my eyes widen in surprise.
I think about it and then answer. “It would teach you to love yourself,” I say, pressing my hand over his heart as it beats beneath my palm. “And what I’ve learned is that to love anyone else, you first need to love who you are.”
“I understand. I’ll talk to a therapist. I realize I have these days when I’m barely alive, and that’s not healthy.” His easy acceptance loosens that noose around my heart.
“I’ll get you a recommendation from Dr. Laura.”
He entwines his fingers with mine over his heart and kisses my nose. “Thank you, baby.”
“Of course, my love.”
“I have a request too.”
“Anything.” I nod.
His eyes dart over my shoulders before coming back to me. “Why did you never tell me that you write?” I detect hurt in his voice.
Following his line of sight, I find my laptop there, and for a second, I wonder if he saw the fan edits I made of his pictures. I open and close my mouth like a fish before settling on the honest approach. “I was embarrassed,” I sigh, my shoulders dropping.
“Why the hell would you be embarrassed?” He asks, looking genuinely clueless about my misery.
“Because it’s not a real career path,” I scoff, throwing my hands in the air.
Noah’s features instantly harden, his jaw clenching. “Whose words are you parroting, Andie?” he snips.
How does he…Oh, how can I forget that he has that insane ability to read me like a book?
“Literally everybody besides my family, and Aurelia,” I sigh, tired of holding everything in. For just one moment, I want to lean on him.
I want someone whose default setting is not to be on my side to believe in me and my dreams and aspirations. To tell me I’m not stupid to hope.
“Have you ever told anyone that you write?” he asks, his anger receding just a bit.
“No one.”
“Why?” he asks, his hands running soothing circles on the exposed skin on my thighs.
The pain barrels back into me at once, the second my memories refresh.
“When I decided to drop out of law school and pursue a career in teaching, everyone mocked me, said that I took the easy way out, and that I didn’t have what it takes to be a lawyer.
But for me, it was never about if I could do it; it was always about if I wanted to do it. ”
“And look at how far you’ve come without anyone’s help, baby. You’re almost a permanent teacher at the school you work in,” he praises, reminding me that I’ve achieved what I set out to.
“You’re right,” I breathe, thinking what he’s saying.
“I am. So, if your heart says that you should become an author, then you should do everything you can to make it a reality,” Noah encourages, his hands coming up to cup my cheeks.
“Besides, I’ve read your book, and it’s a fucking page-turner, Rainbow, and I’m not even into reading,” he says proudly, his words ringing true and sincere.
“Yeah?” I ask, hopeful.
“Hell yeah! I’d never lie to you.” He presses a kiss on my forehead, his lips lingering there. “You should submit it to a publisher. You owe it to yourself to see it through the end.”
He’s right. All my life, I’ve spent worrying about what people think of what I do or don’t do. I’ve let the world’s expectations guide me for far too long.
So, I promise him to follow my dream if he tries out therapy.
And when he agrees, despite this nagging sensation at the back of my mind, I force myself to believe that everything will be fine.
Maybe, just maybe, everything will be alright.