Untouchable: Haven Falls (Book 1)

by Sheridan Anne

  Ummmmmmm…. What? Did he just…? Noooo. Not possible.

  I take in Candice’s shocked squeal and watch as her eyes flick to me. “You’ve got to be kidding?” she demands of Noah, reminding him of her position within the school.

  Noah shrugs and steps back from the mess, clearly not giving a shit about her protests before turning back on me. It’s clear he’s got something to say, but I’m not about to hang around to find out what.

  I’m out.

  I duck around him and haul ass towards the door. The closer I get, the more I can smell freedom. Hell, I’m too terrified to even turn around to see if she’s cleaning up the spaghetti. I doubt it. She would have just stormed away while plotting my untimely death.

  Fuck. That was a dangerous game I just played and I have no idea how I’m alive right now.

  I barge my way out of the door and take a deep breath as I break through to the hallway. I stop by my locker and grab my wet clothes from this morning and pull my bag over my back.

  Finally. Now, I just have to get my ass home and lock every door and window, turn off all the lights, and cower under my bed for the rest of the day. Hmmm, maybe I’ll stay there until the end of the week, maybe graduation would be best.

  Shit. Where did my backbone just go?

  I start heading for the front doors of Haven Falls Private when a large hand curls around my elbow and yanks me to a stop.

  “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Noah growls as my world crumbles around me.

  I’m in serious trouble here.

  Chapter 3

  “Ummm,” I say, looking around anywhere except at the intimidating guy with his fingers curled around my elbow, making my skin burn with his touch. My eyes flick back to the exit, wishing desperately that I was on the other side of that door. Shit, Henley. Find that backbone. “Where does it look like I’m going?”

  He narrows his eyes on me, studying me as though I’m some kind of alien, or maybe just some idiot with a death wish. “You called me out,” he says accusingly as though he can hardly believe it happened, which I guess, is something that doesn’t happen often. “Nobody calls me out.”

  “Well,” I breathe. “It’s going to happen again if you don’t take your hands off me.”

  He looks down at where his hand fits perfectly around my elbow before reluctantly pulling it away. A cocky smirk crosses his face. “I like you, Spitfire.”

  “What?” I sputter, hating how much I like that he calls me ‘Spitfire.’ “You’re insane. You don’t even know me.”

  He just grins, looking at me as though I’m his next meal.

  “Ok… well, this has been nice,” I say with a condescending tone. “I’m sorry about your shirt and all, but I’m out before…whatever this is, gets me in any more trouble.”

  Noah scoffs and I hate that I like it. It’s like a badass attitude that’s been perfected over the years. He’s dangerous while being the perfect poster boy. But those tattoos…what I wouldn’t give to explore them a little more. “You couldn’t possibly be in any more trouble than what you’re in now,” he tells me.

  “Don’t I know it,” I say, peering back up the hallway to see Monica standing expectantly at the other end with her arms crossed over her fake chest. “I think you’re about to be summoned by Queen Skank.”

  Noah looks back over his shoulder and practically shudders. “Fuck me,” he groans lowly. “I can’t catch a break.”

  “Huh?” I question, having no idea why I’m so interested in him hating on her right now. I mean, it’s none of my damn business. Monica and Noah have been a thing for, well, I have no idea how long, but all I know is that up until this very moment, I’ve never given two shits about it. So, why do I suddenly want to know all the little ins and outs of their relationship?

  Noah’s eyes cut back to mine as a strange emotion flickers in his deep eyes, reminding me that I shouldn’t be thinking about anything to do with him. “She’s a stage five clinger. I broke up with her last week and she won’t leave me the fuck alone,” he explains, startling me with the insight of his life. “Didn’t you know that? It’s the only thing these fuckers seem to talk about.”

  Ahhhhhh… and it all makes sense. Noah Cage has never gone out of his way to speak to me, now suddenly he breaks up with his girlfriend and he’s giving me the time of day. Clearly, this is about showing off to Monica that he doesn’t want her anymore and he’s using me as his pawn to do it while also making the target on my back that much bigger. Well played Noah Cage. I guess you don’t get to be the feared leader if you’re not calculating as hell.

  I shrug my shoulders. “How could I know when I don’t talk to anyone here?”

  “Why the hell not?” he questions. “Are you a fucking reject or something? Sounds fucking boring to me.”

  “Like you’re one to talk. It’s not like you go out of your way to chat with the kids here. Besides, why would I?” I shoot back at him. “The girls here are bitches and the guys are jerks. All they do is gossip and bitch about other people behind their backs.”

  He puts a hand to his heart and feigns a hurt gasp. “Even me, Spitfire?”

  There’s that name again…

  “Beats me,” I shrug. “I don’t know a damn thing about you. Now, thanks for putting a target on my back, but I’m out of here before your girlfriend decides to burn me in my sleep.”

  “Ex-girlfriend,” he corrects, though I notice how he doesn’t bother correcting me on the whole ’burning me’ thing. It’s probably more of a possibility than I fully realize. “And remember, you put that target on your own back, babe.”

  Noah steps into me and I watch in confusion as his arm falls over my shoulder, bringing that same burning sensation back to my skin. I mean, what the hell is that? “Come on,” he says, looking down at me as though he can’t live without me, but his eyes tell a different story, reminding me this is an act for Monica. “I saw you walking this morning. I’ll drive you home.”

  I walk with him towards the door as I feel Monica’s glare stabbing into my back. I push his big arm off my shoulder. “No thanks,” I grumble. “I’m not some damsel in distress, I’m not a pawn you can use to piss off your girlfriend, and I can get myself home perfectly fine.”

  “Tough shit,” he says. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. You owe me a new fucking shirt.”

  “Bullshit,” I argue. “That was your own fault. I’m not responsible for you barging your way into my business. If anything, Candice owes you a new shirt for saving her precious uniform from a mountain of red sauce.”

  His brows pull down and I can’t help but glance up at him and take in the sharp jawline which is covered with the slightest stubble. Holy hell. He’s hot. The tattoos. The body. The jaw. The green eyes and plump lips that are begging to be bitten. Add that with the short brown hair and tanned skin that screams of endless days out in the blistering sun. He’s perfection. It’s no wonder every girl in school wants to be with him and it’s no wonder he doesn’t trust or let anyone in. They all want one thing.

  As if sensing my gaze upon him, his eyes cut down and meet mine, completely catching me checking him out. A cocky smirk crosses his face and I quickly realize this is his signature look. The one that brings all the girls to the yard. He doesn’t need any milkshakes, he’s doing perfectly fine on his own.

  “You about done?” he questions, calling me on my blatant gawking.

  “Nope,” I tell him, giving the cocky attitude right back to him. “Why don’t you do a little turn and give me the full effect?”

  He grins and not a moment later, starts a slow turn that has me laughing out and completely missing my chance at checking out his ass. As he comes back to face forward, his arm settles back over my shoulders, making me wonder what the hell is going on. I mean, we’re way out of Monica’s sight now. There’s no need for the act.

  I realize he’s leading me towards the parking lot and I start pulling out from under his arm. “I guess I’ll see
you around,” I tell him as I start heading for the back gate, remembering who I’m talking to and not trusting for one second that he isn’t finished withhis little game of cat and mouse. After all, I did slather him with spaghetti sauce in front of the whole school. That’s not going to be forgotten quickly.

  “Whoa,” he says, catching up to me and dragging me back towards the parking lot. “I said I’d take you home.”

  “And I said I’m not a damsel who needs saving. I got my ass here and I can get myself back again.”

  “Chill out,” he laughs. “I get it. You’re hard as nails, but babe, it’s just a ride. I’m not asking you to get down on your knees and get to work.”

  I narrow my eyes on him and he holds his hands up in defense. “What?” he shrugs, clearly not seeing a thing wrong with what he just said.

  I consider him a moment and I don’t know what makes me do it, but I see a genuine kindness lingering in his eyes that makes me want to trust him, despite my better judgement. “Fine, but I swear, if we get halfway there and you start asking for sexual favors, I’m diving out the car. I don’t care if it’s still moving and I end up with road rash from head to toe.”

  “You know, I’ll return the favor, right?” he chuckles with a deep fire burning in his eyes.

  “Nope,” I grunt, turning around and beelining for the back gate, I’m not interested in becoming Noah’s newest fuck buddy.

  “I’m joking,” he laughs, catching up with me once again and pulling me back. “I promise. I’ll behave. I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

  “Yeah fucking right,” I grumble, rolling my eyes, but nonetheless, let him pull me along to his white Camaro that sits front and center of the student parking lot. My eyes rake over it. I’ve never really been one of those girls who fawn over cars, but I can certainly see the appeal with this one.

  It’s shiny and new. Not a lot of people in Haven Falls can afford the luxury of buying a brand new car and the fact that Noah has one tells me he’s most likely worked his ass off for it. Either that or he’s involved in something that I really don’t want to know about. Considering who I’m standing in front of right now, I’d go with the second option.

  “Nice stripes,” I tell him, taking in the two, thick, black racing stripes that go right from the front of the car to the back. It’s no secret that Noah is into illegal racing at the dirt track in Broken Hill.

  Jackson used to race there and I would go with Kaylah to watch him. I never knew Noah raced until I saw him, but to be honest, I couldn’t tell you if he was good or not. My attention was taken by Jackson. It was always taken by Jackson.

  Noah unlocks the car with the key fob and a smug grin takes over. “The stripes make it go faster,” he tells me like a giddy, little boy, excited about showing off his favorite toy.

  "Oh, really?" I tease, feigning ignorance as I go in for the dig. "Does it go faster than, say...black Camaros?"

  Noah's eyes widen, clearly knowing I'm referring to Nate Ryder's Camaro which was destroyed in a wreck a little while ago. I have no doubt, there would have been a lot of competition between the two and judging by his reaction, I'd dare say it could be a touchy subject.

  Noah scoffs, rolling his eyes before realizing that I'm teasing. "That Camaro is either in pieces or sitting in a junkyard somewhere, so I'd dare say that yes, mine is definitely faster."

  "Only because it has stripes, though?" I confirm.

  He raises his eyebrows as pride flashes through his green eyes. "Damn straight," he tells me. "Now, get your fine ass in the car. "

  I do as I'm told and even I have to admit that it's one hell of a nice car. It's sleek, sexy, and for a guy's car, surprisingly clean. It's clear he takes great pride in it and so he should. It's another good quality I'm quickly learning this stranger possesses. Which makes me wonder why he's letting me in like this. Don't get me wrong, he's the first human being, other than my father, to bother having a decent conversation with me in months, and if I'm honest, I'm kind of liking it, despite the fact that I can’t trust a word he says.

  Noah drops down into the driver’s seat and I can’t help but roam my eyes over him once again. His tattooed arm reaches out as he slides the key into the ignition and gives it a turn. The Camaro rumbles to life and I feel it right down in my soul, and a few other places that won’t be named. This car is loud and domineering, just like its owner.

  A brief worry flutters through me that he’ll probably get in trouble for ditching school until I remember who I’m sitting beside. Noah Cage isn’t one to shy away from a detention. Hell, half the time he’s not even here. I’ve wondered on occasion where the hell he and his friend Rivers go all the time, but then I remind myself that I don’t actually give a shit.

  Noah props his arm up behind my seat and I get those warm fuzzies down in the pit of my stomach as he reverses out of his spot. I don’t know why, but I’ve always found something so sexy about the way a guy would put his hand up on the back of a chair when reversing. I mean, when Jackson would do it…damn.

  He pulls out onto the road and hits the gas, forcing me back into the chair. “Your dad is the one with the big ass truck, right?” he questions.

  A smile spreads across my face, thinking how dad would get a kick out of the way he called it a ‘big ass truck.’ “Yeah,” I say. “How’d you know?”

  Noah scoffs. “Babe, I drive past your house every single day. It wasn’t exactly hard to figure out, and don’t act like you don’t notice me, my car isn’t exactly quiet.”

  “I know,” I groan, thinking off all the times I’ve heard the rumble of his engine shooting past my house in the middle of the night, waking me out of a peaceful sleep. It always makes me curious to know where the hell he could be going so late, but I don’t dwell on it long. The answers are pretty obvious. You know, either a late night screw or an illegal race.

  I swear, this guy must be living the life. He has it all. The respect of his peers, a cool car, the good looks, and an ego that has his confidence soaring through the roof. I wish I had that. Though, I guess I used to. I’m basically a shell of the girl I used to be.

  “So, what’s your deal?” he asks. “Don’t you usually drive that old pick up to school? Why were you walking in the rain?”

  I let out a heavy sigh, wondering why he would even care. Maybe it’s just polite small talk. “Yeah,” I tell him. “The bastard wouldn’t start this morning and now I have to work out how to change the oil or fork out the cash for someone to do it for me.”

  “Surely your old man can do it, right?” he questions as he pulls up at a red light.

  “Usually,” I explain. “He’s out on a job, so I can either wait until he gets home this weekend and suffer walking through the rain every day, or I can get it fixed myself.”

  “Does that happen often?” he questions.

  “What? Dad being gone?”

  “Yeah.”

  I nod. “All the time. It’s our normal.”

  “No mom?”

  I shake my head.

  He glances over and considers me a moment before returning his eyes to the traffic. “Must get lonely,” he comments with a strange emotion rattling his voice, though I can’t quite figure out what’s put it there.

  “Nah,” I shrug. “I mean, it did at first, but I got used to it. I like being alone.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” he grins before deciding to take pity on me, clearly seeing through my blatant lie. “I’ll fix the pick up if you make me lunch.”

  I study him for a moment, briefly wondering why the hell he wants to help me, but the offer is too good to pass up. I don’t even bother thinking about how effed up the idea of us having lunch together is. I mean, it’s simply something that’s never supposed to happen. The untouchable, popular guy spending time with the designated loser. I mean, so cliché, right?

  “Deal,” I tell him, not wanting to miss the opportunity to get the pick up fixed and spend time with the guy who seems to have me somewhat intrigued. I
just hope I’m not shooting myself in the foot.

  We get back to my place and I cringe as he gets out of his car. Dad and I haven’t had people over for so long that we’ve let our home go. There are dishes piled up in the sink and a mountain of dirty laundry, though, for the most part, it’s respectable… well, respectable enough. You know, if he doesn’t venture down the hallway and get a look at the way I left my room this morning.

  I slide my key into the lock on the front door and give it a good wiggle before a firm turn, knowing it tends to get jammed. Before I know it, I’m pushing into my home with the Haven Falls badass, Noah Cage, hot on my heels.

  I know, right? I can hardly believe it myself. Never in a million years did I think Noah Cage would be inside my living room. This is ridiculous. Is this what it’s like to fangirl? Or maybe this is spazzing out over a sexy boy showing a little interest. Shit, it’s probably just nerves of the unknown. I don’t know, I haven’t felt anything in so long.

  I walk through the living room and into the kitchen, hoping I can clear a little space before he walks in behind me, only as I get into the kitchen and turn around, I find him shrugging out of his shirt before he tosses it right in my face. “Um,” I squeak. “What the hell are you doing?” I question. “I don’t know about you, but I was raised not to get naked in other people’s homes when I first walk in.”

  “What do you think I’m doing?” he shoots back at me with a sparkle lighting up his mischievous eyes as I try desperately to keep my eyes locked on his, rather than the masterpiece which is his wide chest and sculptured abs covered in ink. “You owe me some favors.”

  My eyes widen in shock and I swallow back.

  He’s not serious, is he?

  What have I done? I should have known better. A guy like Noah doesn’t just give a girl a ride home without expecting something in return. No, he doesn’t get a badass reputation and girls fawning all over him for being a gentleman.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  Heat surfaces behind his eyes as steps towards me. Within the blink of an eye, I toss his shirt straight back at him. “Ahhh…whatever it is that you’re expecting to go down here, you can forget it. You’re going to have to do something a shitload better than giving me a ride home to get in my pants.”