28. NOAH
Chapter twenty-eight
After I finish up my piddle paddle, I zip up my jeans and stand at the sink, washing my hands while glaring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Damn this party. Damn the sticker residue on my cheek. Damn that dress Roxanne is wearing.
I slap the faucet off. Thinking about the way that dress hugs every dangerous line makes my body tighten with desire all over again. My imagination keeps supplying filthy snapshots in vivid detail: inky hair trailing down her arched spine, red lips parted as she gasps, fishnets clenching around my waist.
That fucking dress.
I hate myself for imagining it’s Roxanne making my hands wet right now, thinking about how warm she’d feel, how big my fingers would look around her thighs.
How gorgeous they would look.
I dry my hands off quickly and adjust myself roughly in my jeans, cursing under my breath. Messing up that pretty lipstick of hers sounds damn appealing right about now and I’m acting as desperate as any of the other drooling shitheads here.
It’s been too long since I’ve been with anyone. Now my body is making up for lost time by reacting to Roxanne like a soggy-brained virgin. The swell of need is not only in my heart—my dick is now rigid against my pants and I’m not sure if I’m able to resist not grasping it in my hand, if only to relieve a little bit of pressure.
I exhale forcefully, every muscle in my body contracting tight as steel cables as I struggle to dry my hands on the goddamn monogrammed towel hanging on the rack. I’m not ready to go back out there. Not with my head now picturing shoving that dress up around her waist as I get inside her body, her gasp of surprise giving way to those lips forming the perfect “oh” of pleasure.
I bet she digs the danger, getting off somewhere semi-public. Maybe she’d keep the boots on, ankles locked tight around my back as I hoist her up against the bathroom wall...
Fucking hell. This needs to stop.
The pressure throbbing below my belt buckle needs to stop too. What I need is to choke the chicken in this bathroom so that I have a better hold on myself when I do go back out, but I’m not doing that in Chris’ downstairs bathroom. Not with people laughing on the other side of the door, including Chris out there chatting up all of the girls waiting to get in here.
I shake my head to clear it. This is neither the time nor the place.
Turning on the faucet again, I splash cold water on my face. Time to get control of myself.
Gripping the edges of the sink, I take in more deep breaths until I feel calmer.
What the hell is wrong with me? This is Chris’ parent's bathroom, for chrissakes, wallpapered with fucking ducks and sailboats. And I’m standing here debating getting frisky with myself amidst the pervading stench of Jim Beam blown chunks someone left in the bathtub.
One more splash and I feel human enough to rejoin civilization. I open the door to the hallway reeking of pizza, letting a girl inside. Chris is still nearby, deep in conversation with Angela up against the wall, and his Rambo headband has now made it around his neck.
I run my fingers deep through my hair, scanning the house for any sign of Roxanne in case she moved from the kitchen. I don’t trust Hayden alone with her after he tried to be all seductive against her locker two weeks ago.
A strong waft of perfume announces itself before its owner slides up to me, a pretty brunette I vaguely recognized from school. Lips glossed to the nines, bangs shellacked to her forehead.
“Noah,” she breathes, resting a hand on my arm. “Having fun?”
I shift, forcing a polite smile. “Yeah, great party.”
Except the part where you interrupted me.
The girl leans in, fingernails digging into my arm. “I've been watching you,” she begins, glancing up at me through her thick lashes and smiling with an impressive white set of teeth. “You always seem so... distant. Like you're waiting for something.”
“Yeah?” I keep glancing around the sea of heads, barely listening.
“Yeah, I could help you loosen up a bit. Show you how to really enjoy yourself.” Her voice drops to a whisper as she twirls a strand of her hair. “You, me, my dad’s Cadillac.”
I take a quick step back, gently removing Becky’s—Bethany’s?—hand from my arm.
“Sorry, I’m looking for someone right now.” My eyes are still roving the crowd for any hint of black on black on black.
“Come on, Noah. Don't you want to feel good?” Brina wheedles. “I promise I can make you feel very good”
“Believe me, I normally love a good time. But, like I said, someone is waiting for me.”
“Well if you change your mind...”
I wouldn’t.
“Yeah, I'll... send up a flare or something,” I mutter, already turning away. The brunette is forgotten instantly. Right now all I can think about is that dress and the girl wearing it.
Pushing through the crowd, Ian catches my eye where he’s holding court in the corner, surrounded by a gaggle of giggling girls.
I quickly avert my eyes, hoping he hasn’t spotted me. I don’t feel like getting into that. The wound of getting booted from a band I’d help start is still a little sore even if I’m glad where it brought me.
I keep moving through the party, craning my neck around Ian’s group.
“Noah!” That voice shouts, and I cringe.
Fuck. Me.
Reluctantly I turn to face him, turning on smile #2 as I nod to him in his pirate costume, throat already tightening. “Hey, man.”
“It’s been a while, dude!” He smacks me on the back a little too hard. Almost enough force to dislodge a lung.
“Yeah, it has,” I say thinly. I’m surprised you’re not too serious for parties was what I wanted to say.
“I was hoping I’d run into you tonight. I’ve been meaning to catch up with you for a while now. Still slaying it on the mic, I hope?”
I clench my jaw. The old hurt I was trying to avoid is starting to rise up.
“We live in the same town,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. The girls around him titter. “If you wanted to catch up, you could have done that anytime.”
“I know,” Ian says quietly while adjusting his pirate hat. “Listen, I wanted to say the way I went about kicking you out of the band wasn’t fair. I don’t expect you to forgive me right now, but I’m trying to apologize.”
Well, shiver me timbers. I… had not been expecting an apology.
I really didn’t expect to ever exchange words with Ian ever again.
There’s a little spark of empathy stirring inside of me now that wants to give the guy credit for owning up because I have always believed in the power of honesty. But he didn’t replace me with some random groupie on the microphone. This was our baby—we scored our first gigs and shaped our Very Serious Artist image and sound. And this Judas-in-a-ruffle-shirt gave the crown to the red-headed devil without a second thought.
“I don’t know what to say,” I honestly say back. “I guess I appreciate the sentiment.”
“How are you doing?”
Power of honesty.
“Look.” I pause, holding my hands up. “You were right about how I was acting over the summer. Your words still haunt me sometimes, in a good way. It’s a lot to take in, realizing all the mistakes you’ve made when you’re barely 18. Your feedback has even pushed me towards being a better musician—maybe a better person. But it still hurts. So… if you want my honest opinion, I’m still recovering from what happened between us. And what I don’t appreciate is running into you at a party, when you’ve avoided me for months.”
I take in a lungful of musty air.
“Now, can we catch up later, Ian?” I mutter tightly as I brush past him and the wide eyes of his fan club.
The ball’s in his court now. Maybe we’ll talk again someday and hash this shit out for real when I’m open to trying again. For both our sakes, I hope he accepts the challenge—just not tonight.
Three steps. That’s all I take before I’m accosted by flailing limbs next.
“Noah!” Stephanie cries, grabbing my hands and tugging me toward her. Tyler pops up next to her, the two of them bouncing wildly to Ice Ice Baby . They’re both several drinks in and riding the same wasted wave. “Come on, dance with us! The music is soooo good, isn’t it?”
I snort as they try to spin me in a circle. “Are you guys having a contest to see who can corner me the most?”
“Come on, man! It’s a party! Have fun! This is fun!” she yells at top volume, breath flammable from the jungle juice.
“Oh yeah? You having fun?” I ask wryly, amused by how shitfaced these normally anxious two are.
“The most fun!” she screams directly into my ear, a red plastic cup in one hand and a goofy grin on her face.
Tyler whoops, jumping around me. “Come on Noey-Bear, join the dance party!” He attempts to twirl Stephanie, accidentally crashing into a couple making out.
Stephanie holds a hand out to push Tyler away and starts to circle him, firing off a flawless rapid-fire rap verse, and my eyebrows climb up my head. She’s spending too much time with Daniel.
Tyler begins doing the Running Man with aggressive enthusiasm, almost roundhouse kicking over a lamp, and I can't stop fucking laughing. “You two need to drink some water.”
I try to extricate myself while Tyler starts spinning her around again, but they’re having none of it. They sandwich me between them, forcing me into an uncoordinated three-person shimmy. I sigh in resignation, letting myself fall for it for at least one song. I guess I can wait a few minutes longer.
But then Stephanie fixes me with a stern look that seems out of place on her usually sweet face.
“Tell me, Noah Jackson,” she whispers, folding her hands on my shoulder and staring up at me as if a concerned parent. “What are your intentions with my best friend?”
I damn near choke on my spit as Tyler mimics her confrontational stance on my other shoulder. “Yeah buddy, inquiring minds want to know!”
“My intentions?” I play dumb, trying really hard not to laugh. “If you want the truth, I’m just trying to find her.”
Stephanie pokes my cheek accusingly, nearly losing her balance. “Don’t play cute. You heard me! Are you trying to get in Roxy’s pants, or what?”
“Ooh!” Tyler waggles his fingers. “Tell us your secrets, sir!”
“Okay, chill, both of you.” I raise my palms, smiling. Normally Miss Wallflower and her awkward sidekick grilling me about girls would be gold.
I push up my glasses to the top of my head, scanning again for any glimpse of inky locks. When I do a quick little jump to see that the kitchen’s empty now, a tight pull tugs in my gut at Roxanne’s continued absence from my side, and fuck if that isn’t new. Since when do I care about keeping tabs on one particular girl at these things?
Damn. Where is she? And what’s with the third degree from her friends? Friends usually only grill you about this kind of stuff when it means… Holy shit.
My face lights up.
“Why?” I turn back to Stephanie. “Does she want me to have intentions?”
Stephanie looks at Tyler, eyes widening, and I know I’ve stepped in it now. “See, I told you! He’s playing dumb. This boy clearly only has one intention: to bone my best friend.”
I try to keep from grinning, but it’s a half-truth. “I mean, if she wants to, I wouldn’t say no.”
Stephanie puts a hand to her mouth when she releases an affronted squawk like a cockatoo, while Tyler damn near pisses himself laughing as he uses my shoulder for balance.
“Oh my god, Tyler, he’s a pig. There you have it.” She crosses her arms with triumph. “I’m a genius at people-reading. Just another day at the office.”
Tyler wipes at his eyes and slaps his hand on my shoulder, grinning like a wolf. “A pig with good game, yeah. I can respect it.”
I chuckle, but these two don’t get it. They don’t understand the way Roxanne’s smile drowns out all the static bullshit in my head, leaving nothing but her frequency. I’m tuned to her station 24/7.
Maybe I don’t even get it myself.
“Alright, in the spirit of Halloween I will tell you my darkest secret.” I pause for effect, then hit them with it: “I am a big fan of your friend.”
Stephanie forces me to face her, swaying slightly as she tries to stare me down. “A big fan!? How big of a fan? Are we talking “big fan” or big fan? I’m not getting a clear picture here.”
Tyler, apparently possessed by the spirit of dance, starts twirling around wildly. “A big fan? Is that what the kids call it these days?” He stuck his tongue out and added some hip gyrations for good measure.
I lose it watching his fucking oversized coat billowing like a superhero cape.
“Yeah. The biggest fan,” I joke, and it comes out more serious than I intended.
Tyler lets out a tipsy giggle. “A big, big fan indeed. A big fan in every sense of the word, eh?” He continues to twirl himself around Stephanie, who’s struggling to not crack up herself now.
I stretch upward and glance around the party again, but there is still no sign of her. Before they can start in on me on another round of teasing, I bolt into the crowd while they’re busy twirling each other.
Thankfully my dick finally has its head screwed on straight. So when I see the lines of couples making out in the foyer against the wall, I feel nothing.
I’ve officially lost Stephanie and Tyler in the crowds when I make a beeline for the safety net of the kitchen. I can at least grab a beer as I continue my search, I guess.
The keg is no longer on the counter, and bottled beers are now crammed into a large cooler overflowing with ice in the sink. I grab a bottle, pop the cap off against the counter, and take a drink while the fridge hums noisily beside me.
The counter is buried under a clutter of discarded red solo cups, an empty bottle of Midori, and a sad bowl of cereal dusted with crushed Doritos. The munchies must have hit someone hard earlier.
I shake my head, leaning against the counter as the opening to Bette Davis Eyes drifts in from the living room. Everyone slows their dancing in the kitchen down, and my eyes drift to the doorway only to have my night immediately brightened as a cloud of black walks in.
Roxanne .
Her eyes flit around the room until they land on me, and I watch her hands tug at her sleeves. She sends me a quick flat smile, and I clear my throat and take a gulp, licking my lips as the girl approaches.
My face cracks a grin as I hop up on the counter behind me, spreading my knees.
“Been looking everywhere for you,” I rasp out, letting my eyes trail over black fabric and porcelain skin. I watch, fascinated, as a rosy flush spreads from her elegant collar bones all the way up to the mole on the left side of her neck.
She’s as delicate as lace, as dark as night, and it gets me every time.
Roxanne stops directly in front of me, one hand on her hip, and plucks the beer from my fingers. I track a stray droplet as it courses down her wrist.
“Well, I haven’t been in any hurry to see you,” she complains, staring at me with the usual fury.
When she lowers the bottle, there’s a smudge of red lipstick on the rim, and I’ve never been more jealous of an inanimate object in my life. Though my microphone cables from the garage that one day might still take the cake.
What exactly did Roxanne want from me tonight? I don’t want to guess wrong and ruin everything, but the way her eyes dip down to stare at my hand on my thigh gives me a spark of hope that maybe I have a real shot here.
“Now why is that?” My eyes try not to stare at the outline of her chest through her very tight dress that’s a foot away. “What were you doing? Having too much fun without me?”
I take the beer back from her, taking a sip where her lips just were.
“I wouldn’t say too much fun.” She crosses her arms, making her breasts perk up more, and inches closer between my legs, close enough that her perfume—sweet and spicy, like her—fills my lungs. “Maybe just the right amount.”
I take another slow sip of beer. This near, with this much skin, I discover new details—the tiny beauty mark gracing her right breast, how the dark red shade of her lips makes copper sparkle through emerald irises, the tempting curve where neck meets collarbone.
I wet my dry lips with my tongue as my thoughts spiral into NC-17 territory again.
Another step closer to me makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
“Oh yeah? You take Chris back behind the shed?”
A smile pulls at her dark lips. “Why do you make it sound like I’m taking a dog outside to piss?”
“We all know Chris is a dirty dog.”
She takes the drink back and rolls her eyes at me, but her body seems much more calm than when she’d first entered the kitchen. And because I’m a glutton for punishment, I let my gaze devour her again. All the way down to the mile of thigh poking out from the slit in her dress, and all the way up to those eyes that could start a riot.
Her gaze darts away as if I caught her admiring me. If only she knew that I can’t get over the way she looks tonight, and I’m having a hard time remembering to breathe.
I don’t know what this fucking angel is doing here in between my knees. If anything, I should be between hers.
The shattering of glass yanks me out of my trance. We both turn to the right to see Wendy in the corner, dressed as Sandy from Grease with bottle pieces at her feet. The joy slides right off my face at the sight of the girl I hadn’t so much as acknowledged for months now.
I reach out and take a sip of our shared beer, needing to do something with my hands with Roxanne’s perceptive eyes on me.
“Is that your hot date?”
I frown as she points out Wendy. The idea that she thought I was checking Wendy out when I’ve only been staring at her for the last two months is fucking laughable.
“No. That’s Wendy.”
“Oh.. shit. I didn’t realize with the costume…” Roxanne’s voice falls off as she studies her across the room. “She’s beautiful.”
“She’s an ass more than a beauty,” I say bluntly, sipping again. “You’re the one who’s stunning.”
I offer her the bottle before she can slap me, catching that 'stop flirting with me' look. But I know she fucking likes it. She’s such a brat.
“Your ex is still incredibly beautiful.”
A real brat.
“Damn, maybe I should go over there and make sure she doesn’t steal you from me.”
She chokes on her laugh, the beer spilling down her front. Her finger catches it, wiping at the damp stream running over her necklace and down her skin, slipping underneath her dress.
The silence drags on for too fucking long as I stare at the watery shine before turning back to her eyes, only hers are still off and distracted and staring at Wendy. She hasn’t noticed us yet, too busy trying to clean up the mess at her feet. Good. Let her clean up her own messes for once.
When Roxanne does look at me again, I’m barely keeping a lid on the pot. My eyes are no doubt dark and starving for her, and her next words almost bring me to my knees.
“That’s not going to happen, but I can tell you something that could happen.”
“Oh yeah?” My body snaps from a slouch to full alert. “Tell me, what’s this thing that could happen?”
“I think it’s something you’ll like.”
“I’m listening.” Fuck, I’m more than listening. I'm a dog salivating for a goddamn treat.
She looks back at Wendy with a smug smile. “We can make sure she knows that you don’t care about her one bit and this party is much better with you than any date with her boyfriend would ever be. You’ve been doing plenty of that with Harley, don’t you think it’s time I return the favor?”
She steps closer to me. My eyes lock on her as she moves in between my legs, my thighs brushing against her waist.
“How about I show her how much better it could be?”
“What are you getting at?” I know exactly what she was proposing, but I want to hear her say it.
“I’ll let you kiss me. Right here. Right now.”
Hell. Yes.
Somewhere, in my mind, I hear the marching band triumphantly playing the Rocky theme song as a spotlight shines down on me. An invisible crowd wearing foam fingers and face paint leaps to their feet, erupting into euphoric cheers and high fives.
“What makes you think I’d want to kiss you?” I raise an eyebrow as my eyes drop down to the beer she’s gripping in her hands.
She arches her neck back and tilts her head sideways, drawing out the next word in a long, slinky voice. “Well, if I remember correctly, it was you who was pushing up on me earlier, asking me to touch the snake.”
“And you, the fearless queen, were too scared to touch a harmless snake.”
“It was absolutely not harmless, Noah. It was a big gross ass snake.”
“It was a non-venomous black rat snake. If you had just listened to me then maybe you would have learned something.”
“Why does it matter? It was still big and gross, okay? And it was staring right at me.”
“It’s a snake, it stares at everything.” I dig a finger in between her dress and the belt at her waist, tugging her forward.
“I don’t like things that stare at me. That’s a threat.”
“That’s why you should’ve touched it like I told you to. Gotta establish dominance.”
“I wasn’t touching that snake no matter what you said.”
“Is there anything you would touch for me?” I ask, pulling her body against mine until only the beer and edge of the counter separate us.
Her lips twitch slightly. “Don’t press your luck, Noah.”
I love it when she says my name, which is, thankfully, a lot.
“I press my luck constantly.”
She arches an eyebrow, flicking her eyes toward Wendy meaningfully. “Yeah? What other limits are you going to try and push?”
“The limits you’d like to push,” I whisper, leaning close to her ear until I can smell the vanilla in her hair. “The limits you’d like to break.”
Her chest rises with faster breaths, but her tone stays maddeningly calm. “What if I’m not breaking any limits tonight?”
“You’re already breaking them by offering me to kiss you.”
A reckless grin spreads across her face as she nods. “Well, I do so hate my reputation. Why not really screw things up then if I’m already here?”
I tilt my forehead against hers, our noses brushing. “How far are you willing to go to screw up your reputation tonight?”
“I dunno. How far are you willing to push?”
“How far can I go?” I take the glass bottle between us and set it down in the sink.
“How far can you go?” she returns my question in a whisper.
I follow her eyes as she looks back toward Wendy, both of us noticing her stare before it turns into a glare. Roxanne’s body moves closer, her chest pressing up against my stomach. My knees instinctively spread wider, making more room for her. It’s a side of her I haven’t seen before—demanding, intense, and so fucking attractive in her pursuit.
“Give her a show,” she breathes, shivering as she exhales.
Wendy’s face contorts with some emotion I don’t care to pinpoint as I glance over at her. I don’t care about Wendy at all. I want to kiss the girl in front of me.
“Why don’t we take her down a couple of pegs?” I whisper, lips close enough to taste the air leaving her mouth.
“A couple of pegs? That’s it?”
Moving one hand, my finger sweeps back her hair behind her shoulder, the gasp leaving her mouth driving me even crazier. “We should just take her down all the pegs.”
Both her hands rest on my thighs now, my lips slightly parted and so ready to close the distance that my entire fucking body is aching for it. A wildfire is blazing in my stomach and a voice in the back of my head demands that I do this right now in order to put out the flames.
I’m consumed, desperate, needing the cool oasis of her lips to soothe my scorched soul. The fire rages, torching every scrap of sanity I’ve got left. There is only this exquisite torture, this excruciating distance when all I want— all I need— is the heaven of her kiss to end the sweetest agony.
God, I want her. I want her, I want her, I want her.
I need her.
It’s a mantra, a prayer, a fucking battle cry.
My tongue darts out, barely brushing against her top lip. “Last chance to back out, mistress.”
Her eyes flash with challenge. “I never back down, Jackson. You should know that by now.”
I have to hold my breath and my body tight to control myself, a feeling I’ve never experienced before. I’m, once again, imagining the feel of her skin, the way her hair would feel tangled in my hands, and the noises she’d make in between bruising kisses. I want to kiss her. I want to taste her and stretch out the sweetness of her lips and make it last as long as humanly possible—like sucking on a hard candy against my tongue until only a sliver remains.
This is no longer some fantasy inside a room with duck and sailboat wallpaper. She wants me to kiss her.
So I fucking do.
I lean in and place my hands on her waist, bringing her mouth closer and closer and closer to my lips. Only a millimeter left and then…
I kiss her.
Hard.