Chapter 17 Noel
Noel
“These are the times that try men’s souls.” - Thomas Paine
“Don’t you love how the streetlights reflect through the windshield?
” Aspen leaned forward in the passenger seat to stroke the glass above the dashboard of her car.
But her safety belt caught before she could quite touch it, and she fell back into her seat with a sad sigh.
“It’s so pretty,” she mumbled, eyeing the view longingly.
I shook my head in amusement as her navigation system told me to turn right at the corner. “Yeah, you’ve definitely had one too many to drink,” I said to myself more than to her, since she wasn’t even listening to me, too enrapt in the pretty lights to notice my presence.
“They look like carnival lights.” She sent me a sidelong glance. “Have you ever been to a carnival?”
I blinked. “Umm...sure.” Who’d never been to a carnival?
Whenever they’d come to my hometown, they’d always set up in the open lot not far from our trailer park.
I used to sneak down and take Caroline, and Brandt too when he’d gotten old enough to go on the rides.
I’d never gotten around to taking Colt, though, before I’d left for college.
I hoped Caroline did that for me. Some of my happiest memories were of buying candy and tickets and watching my siblings when we’d gone on the rides.
Colt needed a memory like that. Hell, everyone needed those kinds of memories.
“I’ve never been to a carnival,” Aspen said softly. I glanced across the quiet interior of her car to watch her face fill with even more longing. “My parents said carnivals were foolish and a waste of time.”
Damn. Her parents sounded like complete assholes.
“Do you think if my date had shown up, I would’ve gotten lucky tonight?” She paused and bit her lip. “I could be having sex right now. Wow, I can’t even remember when the last time I had sex was.”
Shit. Bad topic.
She’d been talking nonstop since I’d helped her into her car, changing subjects faster than I could change speeds. But we hadn’t dipped back into this taboo territory since she’d squeezed my bicep in the bar.
“But I do remember the last time I dreamed about having sex,” she kept on. “You were doing me on my desk at work and—”
What? She’d had that dream too? Unreal.
I shifted in the driver’s seat because my erection felt pinched in my jeans.
“—and I was sprawled on my back with all these graded papers digging into my spine while you were standing on the floor between my legs so you could...you know. Then you hit this spot in me...Oh, my God. It felt so good. I somehow kicked over the monitor of my computer screen. But you just kept going, and I think I was about to come, but then I woke up all wet and aching, and I never did find out how that dream ended.”
Oh, I knew how that dream ended.
But damn. This was not good. Hearing about how I’d made her wet and aching snapped the chains around my control as if they were scissor blades plucking apart a tendril of hair.
“You probably shouldn’t be talking about this to me,” I told her, my voice gruff.
She glanced over. “Why not? You’ve had sex, haven’t you?” Then she snorted and threw her head back to laugh outright. “What am I saying? You’re Noel Gamble. You’ve probably had sex more times this month alone than I have in my entire life.”
I scowled. “Okay, now you’re just being insulting.”
“Six,” she said.
I shook my head, not following. “What?”
“I’ve had sex six times in my life. Three different guys.”
My mouth fell open. Jesus. I hadn’t needed a head count. But hell, now that she’d given me one, I thought maybe I had had more sex in this month alone than she’d had in her entire life. Okay, not this month or even last month, exactly. But definitely during a football season month.
She tipped her head to the side and frowned thoughtfully. “Wait. If you’re not willing, does that count?”
Zipping my attention to her, I almost ran a red light. Stomping on the brakes, I exploded, “Excuse me?”
“I said—”
“I heard you! Jesus Christ. If you’re not willing, I don’t think it’s even considered sex. It’s called rape.”
She had not just told me she’d been…No. No way.
Frowning thoughtfully, she murmured. “No. No, my parents told me very specifically I couldn’t call it that.
Told me I couldn’t tell anyone, couldn’t go to the police or talk about it ever again.
No.” She gave a vigorous shake of her head.
“It wasn’t rape. I deserved it. I agreed to go on that date with him, after all.
I even climbed into the backseat with him on my own free will. They said I should’ve expected it.”
Should’ve expected…?
Jesus. I thought I might vomit. But, what the fuck?
With my fingers choking the steering wheel and pretending it was her goddamn rapist’s neck, I managed to ask, “How long ago was this?”
“Nine years. I was fourteen. It was my first time.” she pressed a finger to her lips thoughtfully before adding, “I don’t think a girl’s first time should ever be like that.”
“No,” I agreed quietly. “No, it shouldn’t.” I thought about Caroline for some reason. Shit, she’d had that dance tonight, hadn’t she?
What if that Scotini boy expected more from her than she was willing to give?
What if she agreed to climb into a backseat with him for a couple kisses then got scared when he wanted more and tried to put on the breaks, but he didn’t let her?
I’d break every bone in his fucking body.
I was tempted to pull out my phone and check on her, but I wanted to be here for Aspen, too.
She was obviously going through something right now, and I liked being the one to hear her drunk disclosures.
“Have…” I licked my dry lips as I turned down her block. “Have you ever told anyone about this before, besides your parents?”
I prayed that she’d tell me she’d gone to the police, despite Mommy and Daddy’s wishes, and the asshole had been thrown behind bars, where he’d stayed until he died after being gang raped himself by twenty other inmates.
When she didn’t immediately answer, I glanced over at her as soon as I pulled into her drive and parked.
She’d curled up in her seat with her knees bent to her chest and her arms wrapped protectively around her legs. It gave me a view of silky black panties, but at the moment I was too worried about her to ogle them.
Looking a decade younger than twenty-three, she sent me a wide-eyed glance.
“Of course,” she said. “I told my therapist. It’s very chic in my parents’ world to have a therapist. But mine actually helped me get over it.
I mean, the first guy I was with after it happened didn’t reap any benefits.
He didn’t even stick around to finish our one encounter together because I freaked him out so bad.
He pulled out as soon as I started crying.
Then he ran off and never called me again.
But the second stayed through more than one encounter before he stopped returning my phone calls.
That’s something though, right? It’s progress. ”
I hissed a curse under my breath. Bastards. All three of them. I could tell every one of her past partners had hurt her, even if they hadn’t been like the first prick. I wanted to pull her into my lap and just hold her. Or maybe even show her what the good side of passion was like.
But I restrained myself.
She’d been staring out the front window, probably at the lights again, when suddenly, she looked over. “I read your paper.”
Her quiet words made my already unsettled stomach roar with anxiety. “Yeah. You already graded it and gave it back to me, remember? We had an entire discussion in your office over whether I deserved an A or not. And how you’re going to keep my dirty little secret for me.”
“Right,” she murmured softly as if suddenly remembering.
“Yeah, I guess I owed you a secret, then, didn’t I?
” She smiled but it wasn’t very happy. Her green eyes lifted.
“I was so turned on the entire time you were blowing up at me, telling me to take that A back if you didn’t deserve it.
If you’d have kissed me that day, I would’ve kissed you back. And more.”
Holy fucking shit. I shoved open the driver’s side door and hurled myself out of her car. The cool air was a welcome shock to my arousal. But then she opened her door and got out too.
“I, uh, I’m going to call my cab now.” God, that sounded lame, but she was drunk. I couldn’t do anything about all her confessions. Not now.
She nodded, then shivered and hugged herself before she started toward the sidewalk, which led to her front porch. When she stumbled and nearly went down, I cursed a little louder and shoved my phone back into my pocket.
“Wait,” I called, darting after her and catching her arm just as she tripped again. “Let me help you.”
She swayed my way until she was leaning against me fully. I had to slip my arm around her waist to keep her upright. Fuck, who would’ve guessed she’d have such a tiny waist?
Tipping her face up, she grinned engagingly. “It was the best essay I ever read, you know.”
“Hmm.” I swallowed, refusing to respond, and helped her up the steps onto her porch. When she couldn’t seem to find her keys in her purse, I jiggled them to let her know I still had them after driving. She grinned and stepped aside, gladly letting me take over.
“Your grammar still sucked ass,” she went on as I unlocked the door.
“And you’d probably lose a spelling bee to a first grader, but.
..oh my God. It made me cry. I read it over, and over, and over.
I even photocopied it like a creepy stalker, so I could continue to read it after I gave it back to you.
And every time I look at it, I bawl my eyes out. For you.”