3. Noah - September
THREE
Noah - September
HIGH ROAD -KOE WETZEL
By the time I woke up, Dorian was already gone, leaving the apartment unusually quiet. With no one around, I decided to spend the day in relaxation mode—in my pajamas with my favorite movies on repeat, and an endless supply of popcorn.
By late afternoon, I figured it was time to get ready for my date with John, even though I didn’t know what the plan was. I sighed as I swiped a layer of gloss over my lips, studying my reflection in the mirror.
John enjoyed planning our dates, and I usually didn’t mind since I knew he liked being in control. As long as it meant spending time together, I went along with it.
This time, though, concern crept in. He hadn’t responded to any of my texts all day. While it wasn’t unusual for him to work weekends, especially lately, the complete silence felt wrong.
Is he seeing another woman? Is he going to break up with me tonight? What the hell is going on with him?
A knock pulled me from my thoughts. I rushed to the door, thinking it might be John, but when I opened it, Dorian stood there.
He cleared his throat, his gaze dropping to his phone. “Hey, sorry. I realized I left the key here and didn’t have your number. Glad you hadn’t left yet.”
I stepped back, holding the door open. “Not yet.”
As he walked past me, I reached out and took the phone from his hand without thinking.
His head turned, his brows lifting in surprise. “What are you doing?”
I glanced up briefly, my fingers already tapping at his screen. “Giving you my number, in case you forget the key again tomorrow.”
For a second, he said nothing. Then he took his phone back and sat on the bench in the entryway, slipping off his shoes as my own phone chimed.
John
Sorry, busy day. Be there in 10.
I set it on the counter with a sigh.
“Everything okay?” Dorian asked.
“Yeah, I’m good. John’s on his way, so I’m gonna get dressed.”
Dorian nodded slowly before walking over to the couch.
I stepped into my room, pulling on a simple black dress and heels. I didn’t usually spend much time on my appearance, especially knowing I’d typically be covered in glue, markers, and whatever else the day at work threw at me. But I wanted tonight to be different, so I put in a little extra effort.
As I walked into the living room, Dorian was opening the door for John. John’s gaze swept over him, sizing him up briefly before meeting my eyes.
“Who the fuck is this, Noah?” he asked, his voice stern as he stood in a pristine suit, his blonde hair perfectly styled.
Dorian’s body went rigid, his jaw tightening as his eyes flicked toward John.
“I told you. Dotty’s brother is in town, and she offered her room up. John, Dorian. Dorian”—I pointed—“John,” I said, grabbing my purse.
Dorian extended his hand to John, but there was a pause as he hesitated, weighing the gesture, before finally taking it. The handshake was tight, almost too forceful. It seemed like some sort of damn pissing contest between the two of them, as if they had shared property.
“Nice to meet you,” John said, but his tone didn’t match his words.
“Likewise,” Dorian said, his gaze hardening. There was no trace of the easygoing smile from yesterday—only the edge of a silent challenge in his eyes.
John’s gaze swept over my outfit. “Didn’t mean to make you go through all that trouble,” he said, his voice flat. “I was thinking we’d keep it low-key tonight. I’m wiped from the week and just want to go home and crash.”
I sucked in a breath. “Okay, that’s fine. I’ll go change and grab a bag for tonight,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
John ran a hand through his short hair. “I can drop you back here later. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow and need to catch up at work.”
I forced a smile. “You know, why don’t we walk down the street for some pizza, eat there, and call it a night?” I suggested.
“I’m not feeling pizza. Tacos?”
I bit back a sigh. “Yeah, sure. That works,” I replied.
We made our way to the taco stand, the fall evening air filled with the sounds of laughter and the sizzle of food cooking. Despite the lively atmosphere, John remained unusually quiet, or maybe it wasn’t so unusual anymore. We ordered and found a spot to sit and eat, but the conversation was minimal, mostly filled with brief comments about the food or weather.
I continued to try to get him to open up, but his responses remained short. His mind seemed elsewhere, and I could sense a barrier between us that didn’t use to exist before. The silence only grew as the night went on.
After we finished eating, he reluctantly agreed to walk me back to my apartment and hang out for a bit before heading home. It was a small concession, but at least it was something.
I set my purse down after walking in the door and sat to take off my shoes, John following behind me.
“How was your work trip?” I asked, hoping that if I brought up work, he might open up.
“Fine,” John replied, his tone flat.
“Just fine?”
He glanced at me. “It’d be better if you came with me,” he said, as if the answer was that simple.
Without fail, John always asked me to go with him, even though he knew of my responsibilities. My students counted on me. Hell, I counted on me to make rent.
“I can’t just leave whenever I want, John. I have a job.” My words came out sharper than I intended, cutting through despite my best efforts to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Yeah, but you could quit then come with me all the time. I could convince your dad it’s for the best and probably even get your mom off your back.”
But I didn’t want to quit my job. Teaching wasn’t just something I did, it was who I was, but no matter how many times I explained that to him, he never understood.
I still remembered my fourth-grade teacher, who saw something in me when no one else did. She’d stayed late after class one day to help me with a project I was struggling with, and in that hour, something shifted. I knew I wanted to be that for other kids, to see their potential and help them find their voice. Being a part of a child’s life at such an integral time was fulfilling. So, staying home and playing John’s housewife wasn’t something I was willing to do.
“I’m not doing that. Teaching isn’t just a job to me. These kids rely on me, and I really try to make a difference. I don’t want to give that up.”
“I know. I just wish you would.”
I didn’t bother responding, opting to sit in silence instead.
“Well, I’m going to head out. Doesn’t seem like you want to be around me,” John said.
He leaned over for a goodnight kiss, but I turned my head at the last second, offering him my cheek instead. His lips barely brushed my skin before he pulled back, his scoff cutting through the tense silence like a knife.
“What the hell is your problem?” he muttered, clenching his jaw.
I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out, as if everything unspoken was crashing down.
Dorian cleared his throat, breaking through the tension. “You okay, Noah?” He studied me as he moved into the room. His posture was careful, waiting to see if he needed to intervene.
“She’s fine,” John snapped, standing up with his hands clenched at his sides. He threw Dorian a piercing stare.
Dorian didn’t flinch, locking eyes with John. “I think she can speak for herself,” he said, taking a step closer.
John shook his head, muttering under his breath. Without waiting for an answer, he stormed out, the door slamming behind him.
Frozen, I stood facing the door, my eyes fixed on where John had walked out. A heavy knot settled in my stomach.
I brushed my face, where his kiss barely landed, and I wondered how it had come to this, from something that once felt so familiar.
Dorian’s eyes roamed over me before he slowly retreated to the couch. There was something about the way he watched me.
“You okay?” he asked. The tone of his voice carried a deep seriousness I hadn’t heard yet. I plopped down next to him, letting a long sigh escape.
“I’m fine…” I said, glancing over at him.
He tilted his head, studying me in that way that almost made me feel too exposed. “Your boyfriend’s kind of a dick.”
The directness of his words hit hard, and I shifted uncomfortably. “John’s just under a lot of stress at work lately.” The words felt hollow, even as I said them.
It pissed me off that I was in a position that I had to defend my boyfriend for being an asshole.
Because John was being a fucking asshole.
“He’s not usually like this,” I said, my words betraying the truth I wasn’t ready to admit.
Dorian raised an eyebrow. I kept my focus on a spot on the coffee table, not meeting his eyes. “I’d hope he doesn’t act like that all the time. You deserve better.”
I exhaled, forcing a weak smile. “I can handle it, but… thanks.” My tone was softer now, less defensive.
“Fair enough,” he said with a nod. His back rested against the couch, his arms folding at his stomach. Then his lips quirked into a teasing smile. “Want to watch an episode?”
I blinked at the sudden shift, surprised at how easily he let it go.
“Okay…”
And just like that, the tension dissolved, replaced by an unfamiliar ease he somehow brought out in me. We ended up watching several episodes, trading commentary about the plot and characters like nothing happened. By the time the clock ticked into the early hours of the morning, the moment with John felt like a distant memory, leaving only the comfort of Dorian’s company as we said goodnight.