37. No Denying
Chapter thirty-seven
No Denying
DELANE
Istopped when I saw him, reclining nonchalantly against the cool metal as though it were his most natural position.
Noah scanned through the crowd with his gaze, and I beamed, knowing that it was me he was searching for.
It had to be. He was at our lunch table, waiting for me.
I mean, it wasn’t technically our table, but we had started meeting at the same one, about the same time each day after our classes ended.
He was going to Composition I, and I was heading from Chemistry to Composition II, so we had about an hour in between our next classes.
Since he entered school later than me, we didn’t actually have any classes together, which made this time that much more important to me.
With the exception of the work I completed over the summer, this was officially my third semester of college.
It was kind of nice because I was able to help him with some of the topics I already knew well.
Noah’s professor was one of my favorites last year.
I still had all of my notes, so I’d make it a point to share with him and help him study.
Really, though, I just wanted to be around him more.
“Hello, Noah,” I said happily, approaching him to sit down.
His eyes sparkled and he smiled. “Good morning, Delane. How are you?”
“Just fine,” I answered with a nod, ushering him to sit with me. “You?”
“Unchanging,” he replied.
I raised an eyebrow. “You sound a little bored.”
He chuckled. “Bored, never. Tired, maybe.”
“Are you not sleeping well?” I asked, concerned. The injury under his eyes was healing nicely, but he still seemed off. I could tell he wasn’t feeling well, but I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was bothering him. He was an enigma.
“You could say that.”
“You usually text me over the weekend,” I said, and almost felt embarrassed that I did. “Were you feeling sick?”
“Ah, no. Damian cut off my phone line.”
My eyes widened. “Oh.”
“It’s fine, I’ll just get a new one with the same number. It’s a hassle, but nothing major.”
“What did you do?” I joked.
“Staying out past curfew, I guess,” he said with a chuckle. “But enough about me, how’s everything going at home? Did your parents get back? I remember you told me you were expecting to hear from them.”
I took my English homework and pencil out of my bag, nervously strumming my fingers against the eraser.
I was surprised that he had even remembered such a small detail.
It was crazy to think, but no, I hadn’t heard from my parents in a while.
My family always raised me to be very independent, so I didn’t usually mind staying by myself for extended periods of time.
I knew how to care for the household, I could drive and get to school.
I did part time work study at my campus, and I took care of myself financially for the most part.
I didn’t have a ton of money, but I could fend for myself and pay my own bills.
On the other hand, my parents never fell back on a promise.
They assured me that we would communicate constantly during their absence.
But they simply stopped sending me messages, and I was extremely worried about them.
I was at the point that I considered reaching out to my aunt out of state, but I didn’t want to cause unnecessary panic and upset them.
My parents were clear that we handled our own issues within our family unit, never bringing in outside drama.
“No, it’s been silence on their end,” I said with a sway of my head, trying not to let Noah see exactly how unnerved his question made me feel.
“Shit, I wish my household was like that,” he joked, clearly missing my unease. “I can’t get them to shut up or leave me alone.”
I let out an awkward laugh. “Are we studying?” I asked, eager to switch topics.
He sighed. “Yeah, you got extra paper?”
I glanced at him and realized he didn’t even have his bag with him today.
“Sure,” I mumbled, ripping some from my journal and passing it over.
He smiled and stared at me, waiting.
“Well, do you need a pencil too?” I asked, floored at how he was able to survive entire school day without supplies.
“Oh yeah,” he exclaimed with a little nod, “Definitely need that.”
I handed him a pencil and glanced at my journal notes. “So the argumentative essay right? Was she having you write a formal essay or correspondence?”
“A what?”
“A letter.”
“Oh, no. Just the essay.”
“Okay, so when you look at the checklist here, you have to make sure that you start with a strong thesis statement. That’s like the foundation of a strong paper.”
“Okay.”
“You give two to three points that guide the entire paper, so these will basically be your topic sentences in your body paragraphs.”
“Uh-huh.”
“From there you’ll want to make sure that you use one of the body paragraphs to include a concession and rebuttal, because that ensures you have no bias in your argument.”
“Right.”
I looked up at him from the checklist. He was staring at me with a quirky little grin on his face. There wasn’t a single thing on his paper.
“Should I keep going…or?”
“Delane, I’m not going to lie, you’re basically speaking another language.”
I shook my head, laughing. “Okay, okay, let’s back up.”
“And I was too busy looking at you,” he added in cooly, “Professor Marsh.”
“I…uh…” I stared at the pages in my journal, desperately trying to prevent my cheeks from blushing.
“There it is, see?” He reached out and touched my nose with his finger. “The red starts here at your nose before moving to your face.”
“It does not!”
He shifted forward, and our shoulders touched. “I make you nervous,” he stated with confidence.
“You–” I took a breath. What was the use in lying anymore? “You do, yes. Sometimes.”
“I like that,” he breathed.
“I bet you do,” I scolded, a tad more harshly than I intended.
“Woah, woah,” he laughed, easing back from me. “My bad.”
“I didn’t mean that to be r-rude,” I stammered, the grip I had on my pencil would surely break it soon if he continued to put pressure on me. “Can I just help you with this essay?”
“Sure,” he replied, adjusting his paper in front of him. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Yes, you do, I thought with a huff.
“Okay, I’m writing an argument,” he announced, focusing intently on the first line. “Wait– what am I arguing about?”
I gaped at him. “Well, I don’t know, what was your prompt?”
“Prom? I didn’t go to that.”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing aloud. My god, he is clueless.
“Prompt,“ I repeated, pronouncing the consonants at the end. “Like, the topic your professor wanted you to write about?”
A light bulb went off, “Ohhhh, okay.” He studied the paper for a moment as if the answer would magically appear to him. “Yeah, no clue. I must not have written that down.”
I placed my head in my hands. “Goodness.”
“Hey, Delane,” Noah began, and I could tell immediately that his tone and manner had shifted. His entire body language seemed to have changed gears, and his eyes appeared distant. It was like he was in neutral, just idly rolling. “I’m Sorry. I’m not good at this whole… school thing.”
He snickered, but it wasn’t because something made him laugh. “I’m a fucking idiot.”
My eyes caught his. He believed those words wholeheartedly, almost as though he thought I’d agree with him. My heart throbbed.
“You’re not an idiot.” I stressed, reaching for his hand. He watched my fingers curling around his. I waited and my breath hitched at the feel of his hand closing gently around mine. “I don’t know who is telling you that,” I whispered, “but it isn’t true…”
His words appeared to catch in his throat just as he was about to speak.
“I believe in you,” I said, making sure I had his gaze.
I meant it.
The air around us was charged. I sensed it. The space between us felt small, and although I was sure the food court was bustling with students traveling and chatting, I could only hear the heavy beating of my own heart in my throat.
I was finding it more and more difficult to ignore my attraction to Noah. Although I hadn’t labeled it before, I was aware of what it was and that it was always present. Whenever I was near him, it took me twice as long to try and divert my thoughts from his confidence and his appearance.
And now, his lips.
If I leaned in, I could taste them. Did he move closer?
“Hey LOSERS!”
Somebody kill me now.
I relinquished my hand from Noah’s as Chelsea approached our table.
Chelsea was as pleasant and regular as a damn period. Always popping up at the wrong times. Never wanted but always there. A physical pain in my gut.
Noah didn’t even try to hide his cringe. His shoulders slumped, and he reached into his pocket, pulling out and taking a drag from his vape pen.
His reaction made me buzz a little inside. Maybe what I had just felt was real and we were about to kiss after all?
Naturally, Chelsea dragged a chair up and wedged it between Noah and me.
Not that there was any space to begin with for another seat, or body, but she made due.
She flicked her hair in my direction and gave me a cutesy wave, leaving her freshly manicured, pink nails in my face a little too long. I swatted at her.
“Hey, so I hate to be the bearer of bad news but,” she dodged my hand and gave Noah an exaggerated pout. “Your boyfriend is in love with my TA.”
I had to work very hard not to roll my eyes. Chelsea was still under the impression that Noah and Alex were dating.
“Alex isn’t my boyfriend,” Noah said flatly, taking another puff from his vape.
“Perrrfect,” Chelsea said, nudging me with her elbow like Noah couldn’t see her acting an absolute fool. “So when are you free for me?“ she asked seductively, practically crawling into his lap.
I sucked in a breath. This bitch knows no bounds.
Noah paused, his eyes half lidded and his expression unimpressed. He rotated his body so that he was looking directly into Chelsea’s eyes. Given how intimately they were positioned, I would have assumed that I was interrupting a private moment between two lovers if I hadn’t known them.
“Chelsea, I lied about Alex being my boyfriend,” Noah stated, slowly.
I was stunned. Why would he tell her that?
“Oh, I see.” She batted her eyelashes. Unaware of the intensity I could see emanating from him, Chelsea urged, “Tell me more.” Her hand found Noah’s thigh.
“I lied about it so you’d leave me the fuck alone,” Noah kept a perfect smile on his face and spoke the words so delicately, that I nearly missed them.
Chelsea’s mouth dropped. Mine did too.
“I wasn’t interested in you then, and I’m not interested in you now.” He scooted back a bit, pressed the vape to his lips, and blew out the smoke. “Got it?”
I looked at Chelsea. She was absolutely gagged. “I–”
Ever so slowly, Noah pried her hand off his thigh. He stood, pushing his chair in, and then his eyes came back to me. I froze. As if she didn’t exist, his hand extended past Chelsea’s face and caressed my cheek.
I erupted from his touch.
“Let me know when you’d like to finish studying, Delane,” he murmured, before turning and walking away.
I couldn’t hear Chelsea’s shrieks, but I could see her hands thrown into the air, her hands shaking my shoulders and her mouth moving. Her tone might have been excited or terrified or both. I didn’t bother to decipher what she was saying. I just watched in amazement as Noah departed.
After the night I met Noah, I hadn’t even had a sip of alcohol, yet I felt drunk right now. Beyond buzzed. Shit, I was soaring. I’d never seen Chelsea turned down before, and certainly not for me.
Noah’s display left my whole body rippling for more.
And I wanted to indulge the need.