Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Noah
The sound of a phone ringing jars me out of a weirdly deep sleep. For a moment, I'm disoriented—I'm not in my bed and there's a warm weight pinning me down. And then I remember—Morgan.
She came over last night—today? I don't know what time it is. We made out. She let me bare her beautiful body, bit by bit…and promptly panicked.
I feel sick to my stomach—I pushed too fast. Got greedy. Wanted way more than she's ready for, and I should have known it.
Fuck, I'm such an asshole.
The phone trills again somewhere—it's not my cell, and I don't have a landline, even though the ringer is an old-school ring-ring-ringing.
"Mmm." Morgan mumbles sleepily, shifts against me.
Warm skin is smooth and silky against me, under my hands. Her breasts are firm bumps against my chest, crushed between us. Her thigh is a hot curve over my hip and thigh.
A brief silence, and I drift toward sleep again.
RING-RING-RING. RING-RING-RING. RING-RING-RING. Pause. RING-RING-RING.
It's Morgan's phone.
I glance toward the deck—the sky is gray-pink with breaking dawn, which means that's almost certainly Mallory wondering where the hell her mother is.
Shit, shit, shit.
Her phone is on the floor, a few feet away. It was in the back pocket of her jeans, forgotten when I pulled them off.
I can almost reach it, if I stretch. After nearly tumbling off the couch and taking Morgan with me, I manage to snag the edge of her case with my fingernail and drag it to me. Mallory's smiling face is her lock screen.
I gently squeeze Morgan's shoulder. "Morgan?"
"Mmmm. Sleepy."
"I know, honey. I'm sorry. It's early. But you should answer this."
"Early?" Confusion. Sleepy disorientation. "Hmmm?" A sniff, a snort, nuzzling my chest with her nose, burrowing closer to me. God, that hits like a Mack truck, that adorable little nuzzling to get closer, cozier. "FUCK!"
She's upright, off of me, and on her feet in a single panicked bound, naked but for a scarlet thong, which has, when she turns to face me, wedged itself rather firmly upwards, in front.
"Where—what?" I can hear the confusion and fear and disorientation in her voice. "Whatthefuck?!"
I roll off the couch and grab my flannel off the floor and slip it over Morgan's shoulders; in a disoriented daze, blinking confusedly, she allows me to help her put her arms into the sleeves and then I button it to the point that her breasts are covered.
It hangs just low enough to not quite cover the very lower edge of her plump, round, beautiful ass.
No, no, nope. Stow that shit, jackass. Not the time.
"Noah?"
RING-RING-RING.
I put the phone in front of her face. "Hey. You're with me. You—we fell asleep on my couch. Mallory is calling you."
"Mal?" she blinks at me, and then at the phone. Looks outside, around the house, at me again, at the phone again—buzzing and ringing in my hand.
“Fuck me, goddammit. Goddammit." She inhales sharply. "I can't believe I did this."
"You need a second? I didn't want to answer for you, but…"
“No, I…" she lets out another deep, bracing breath, and then takes the phone and answers it. "Mal, hi. I'm so, so, so sorry, honey. I'm sorry. I'm okay."
I can hear the other side of the conversation quite clearly. "What the hell, Mom? I woke up and you weren't here. Where are you? Why didn't you come home last night? Why didn't you even, like, check in or shoot me a text? I must've called you like a dozen times and sent you at least thirty texts."
Morgan freezes, looking at me as if I'm supposed to know what she should tell her daughter.
"I…" her throat moves as she swallows hard.
Her eyes close for a beat, and then open.
"I'm gonna be honest with you, Mal. I went over to hang out with Noah—with Captain…
um, Coach Austin. And I…well, honestly, I fell asleep.
I'm so sorry, Mal. I'm sorry I…god, I'm the worst. So irresponsible. "
"Mom—Mom. Stop." To my surprise, Mallory sounds more amused than anything, now. "It's okay. I was just worried. This isn't like you and I was scared something had happened to you—something bad. But you're okay. You're safe, right? You are okay?"
“Yes, yes, I…yes, honey, I’m fine. Totally fine, just pissed at myself and embarrassed. I'm the mom, the adult, and this is a terrible example to set."
"Mom, Jesus, just stop. I'm not a kid. And I told you, I'm on board with you and Coach Austin spending time together. Just, next time you have a sleepover, maybe let me know?"
"It wasn't like that, Mal. I really did fall asleep by accident."
“Okay, Mom."
Morgan sighs. "I'll be home in a few, I just—"
"Mom, relax. You don't have any lessons ’til this afternoon, right?"
"Right…"
"So…no need to rush home. It's ohhhh-kayyyy.” She draws the word into several syllables. “Now that I know you're not dead in a ditch somewhere, I'm fine. I have homework and laundry to do all day anyway, so I wouldn't mind having the house to myself for a bit."
"Why are you up so early anyway?" I ask.
Mal isn't a naturally early riser like me. Left to her own devices, she's usually up around nine or ten, eleven at the latest in the summers, but never before seven if she can get away with it and before five only at gunpoint.
"Well you weren't here when I got home from Nicola's, and I tried to stay awake, but I couldn't and then I woke up worried because I could just tell you weren't here."
"Again, baby, I'm so sorry for worrying you. I apologize, Mallory. I promise you, it won't happen again."
"Mom, relax, holy shit. I'm not mad or upset. I was just worried. Please, don't let this derail whatever you've got going on with Coach Austin."
Morgan sighs. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks for understanding, kiddo. I love you."
"Love you too." A pause. "And Mom?"
"Mal?"
"I'm proud of you for getting back out there. After…what we talked about."
"Well I wouldn't be too proud, seeing as how this first foray into…things…has gone so far."
"You're just out of practice. You gotta work on your game. Show him the rizz."
"The what?"
A scoffing laugh. "I was being ironical. Nevermind. Don't rush home. Have fun. I love you. Bye, Mom!"
Morgan pulls the phone away and looks at it, verifying that Mallory did in fact hang up on her.
She then looks at me. "Noah, I…" She glances at her phone again, then at me once more. "Did you…could you…?"
I shrug. "I wasn't trying to listen, but yeah, I could hear both sides."
She blushes pink. "God, I'm so mortified."
I cross to her and hold her arms. "Don't be."
She frowns, puzzled, and then wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. “Yeah, ‘just don't be’ isn't gonna work, Noah. I'm so fucking embarrassed it hurts. I want to crawl into a hole and never come out. Or move to…to…to fucking Cleveland."
"Please don't do any of that," I say, grinning. "I like you very much not in a hole and very much not in Cleveland." I hesitate. "You fell asleep, Morgan. It happens."
She pulls away, paces to the sliding glass door. "Not just that." She touches a smudge on the glass—a mark left by her bare skin. "I thought I could…"
I stay where I am, even though all I want is to take her in my arms and hold her. Kiss her. Reassure her that my desire is undimmed. "Morgan, about last night. I…I'm so fucking sorry. I feel awful."
She pivots, looking utterly baffled. "What the hell are you sorry for? You didn't totally fall apart like a wet napkin, Noah. I wanted…I want—but I couldn't—and I—" she lets out a high-pitched, frustrated growl. "See? I can't even make sense!”
"I shouldn't have rushed it. I should have seen that you were scared. I should've…" I look away, then turn away, shaking my head. "I'm sorry, Morgan. If I'd been thinking more about you and less about myself, I'd have realized you weren't ready and you wouldn't have had a panic attack, and…"
I hear her sigh softly, feel her draw up close against my right side, one hand flat on my chest. "You didn't rush anything, Noah. You didn’t pressure me.
You didn't push me. You did everything you could to make sure I was on board every step of the way.
I never, ever felt anything less than comfortable with you. What happened was not your fault."
"Then it's not yours either."
This gets her attention. "But…"
"Morgan, you had a panic attack. That's not something you can just decide not to…do," I finish lamely. I hold up my hands to forestall her response. "This is a lot of serious conversation for two extremely uncaffeinated people. Let's have coffee before we go there, yeah?"
Morgan sighs in relief as I head into the kitchen. "I would do unholy things for a cup of coffee right now."
I get the coffeemaker chugging away. "What kind of unholy things?" I ask.
She joins me in the kitchen, gnawing on her lower lip, leaning back against the island while I lean back against the sink, opposite her. "Noah, after the way I was last night, I can understand if you're not…"
"Morgan," I interrupt. “Don't be ridiculous."
"But I—"
I hold out my hand; she hesitates, swallows hard, stares at it, and then places her hand in mine.
I yank her off-balance, so she stumbles forward and lands sprawling against me.
Her pale green eyes are wide and full of roiling emotion—a coruscating frenzy of worry, desire, fear, nerves, delight, arousal…
all at once, warring, tangled, intermixed.
"Noah," she breathes. "You…you still…want me?"
I hold her wrists in my hands, pinned against my chest. Gaze down at her. "Fuck yes, I do."
"I crumbled, Noah."
"And I hate that you felt that way—so scared, so…I don't know. I hate that things were said to you and done to you to make you feel that way. I can't stand the idea of triggering those feelings in you. Making you feel scared or…or pressured. Or judged."