by S A Clayton
“Noah! Jesus…” she yells, her words bouncing off the walls and cascading around me, making me feel like a king. “Don’t stop!” she shouts as my fingers thrust in and out of her at lightning speed.
Just as she starts to come down from her high, I release my fingers, pulling her hips back toward me. My lips find her pussy once more, and I groan at the taste of her. The evidence of what I did to her. Nothing will ever taste this good. Ever. Not even her baking.
SEVENTEEN
“Why do you love this movie so much?” Noah asks as I press play on the remote. We’re watching Deadpool…again. I know he probably doesn’t want to watch it, but he told me it was my choice tonight, and now he has to live with that decision.
“It’s the perfect movie!” I squeal as he gives me a doubtful look. I roll my eyes because this isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation. “It has everything you want in a movie: superheroes, gore, swearing, humor, and some romance…the perfect flick.” He just smiles and kisses my cheek as we get comfortable and start watching.
“So, what’s your favorite movie?” I ask, realizing I don’t know. A sinking feeling starts to rise inside me because I should know this by now, right? It’s been a few weeks since we first slept together, and I’ve told him almost everything about myself. But him? He’s still a mystery.
“Die Hard,” he says with a mouthful of popcorn, and I start laughing. “What’s so funny?” he asks, leaning his body toward mine.
“That’s such a guy answer,” I say because every guy I know says that Die Hard is their favorite movie…I wonder if there’s a fan group or something.
“Well, it’s true. Now that movie is perfect.” He kisses me lightly, his hand resting on my knee as he goes back to watching the TV screen. My eyes scan his face as I tilt my head to the side, my fingers lightly brushing the back of his hand.
“What else don’t I know about you?” I ask, feeling his body stiffen under my touch.
“What do you want to know?” His tone is hesitant, which makes me sit up and face him. We’ve had this conversation before, but I still feel like I’m missing something. He knows everything about me, I’ve been an open book about my past, and yet he never elaborates on his.
“Everything? I don’t know much about your time before me. I know why you became a teacher, but other than that, I don’t know what your childhood was like, who your first girlfriend was…who you were with before me…” A subtle but hardened expression crosses his features before he hides it. My heart starts racing, and I wonder if bringing this up was a good idea. I want to get to know him, but I don’t want to push. I know firsthand what that’s like, and I don’t want our relationship to start off on a sour note.
“There’s really nothing to tell,” he says, getting up from the couch and going into the kitchen. Naturally, I follow him. “My childhood was normal. Both parents were hard workers, Dad was an engineer, and Mom was a receptionist at a law firm.”
“Was?” I ask, noting the tone of his voice and the way his face fell when he brought it up.
“They died when I was eighteen. Car accident.” My stomach dips, and my heart stops. What would that have been like? Just becoming an adult, your whole life ahead of you, then your entire family…gone. When I put my hand on his chest, his heart starts beating a mile a minute, and I fight back the tears that threaten to fall.
“I’m so sorry, honey, that must have been hard.” He nods, getting a glass out of the cupboard and pouring some water from the fridge.
“It was, but it was a long time ago.” He leans against the island, glass in hand as he stares out the kitchen window. Everything in me tells me to ask him more. I want to know more about who his parents were, what happened after they died, if he still has any family around. But the faraway look in his eyes holds me back.
“Do you want kids?” he asks out of nowhere. His gaze is still trained out the window, and his body is tense. So tense that when my hand brushes against his arm, he flinches.
“Do you?” I repeat, trying to see what his angle is with that question. It’s kind of out of left field, and yet I’m curious about his answer. But the tone of his voice makes me nervous. He sounds mad, almost annoyed, a bit like no matter what I say, he won’t believe me.
“Do I want kids?” he asks. I give him a reassuring smile and nod. “Yes, I do,” he answers after a few seconds, and I can’t help the shit-eating grin that comes across my face because knowing that he wants exactly what I do makes me breathe easier.
“You never answered if you want them,” he says, and I wonder what he expects me to say…or what he’s prepared himself for me to say.
He’s still avoiding my gaze at any cost, so I take my hand and cup the side of his face, forcing his eyes to meet mine. “Of course, I want kids. I always had this dream of bringing them to the bakery and having them bake things with me.” I notice him visibly deflate in front of me. Like a weight was lifted. I wonder what brought this on, but I decide to change the subject. “What about girlfriends? Anyone serious before me?” I wink at him as we make our way back into the living room.
“You don’t want to hear about that. It has nothing to do with us.” I cock my head to the side as we sit back down on the couch. My eyes never leave him, and I just stare as he goes back to watching a movie he doesn’t even like.
“What?” he asks, a small smile playing on his lips. Just like that, the tension is broken. He hauls me over so I’m plastered against his side. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you about my past, it’s just not something I want to talk about right now, okay?” The sinking feeling in my stomach rears its ugly head, and I know it won’t go away. Not until I figure out what he’s not telling me.
EIGHTEEN
It’s been a few days since our talk. I call it a fight in my head, but really, it was just Noah shutting down and refusing to open up about his past. Granted, he has a right to keep some things to himself. Yet the whole situation has me so apprehensive, I didn’t talk to him all day yesterday or at all this morning. He sent me a few small texts, but I didn’t respond, and with his schedule and mine, we just haven’t had the time to see each other. I look at my phone for the third time today and see another text from Noah.
Me: Val, can I come over and talk tonight? We need to chat about some stuff.
That’s it. The sinking feeling starts again, and I wonder what he wants to talk about. I reply that he can come over any time after eight, and then shut my phone off completely, not wanting to see or hear anything else for the rest of the day.
“Earth to Val.” Fingers snap in front of my eyes, and I’m brought out of my head. Mandy is standing there looking at me like I’m an alien brought back to Earth to fuck with her. “What is with you today?” she asks, taking a scone and shoving the whole thing into her mouth. I give her a look, and she shrugs, saying, “What?” with crumbs falling from her mouth.
“Nothing is with me today. I’m the same as I always am.” She shakes her head as she climbs up onto one of my prep tables that isn’t being used and sits down, legs dangling from the edge. I look at the clock and see that I have exactly one hour until we open. I need to move my ass if I want to see any customers today.
“You’re off. Usually, you’re just in dreamland and have been for the past few weeks, but today’s different. You seem tense and irritable.” She takes one of my rolling pins and tosses it into the air, watching it spin as she goes to catch it. I breathe a sigh of relief when it doesn’t fall to the floor, breaking my only spare.
“Can you give me that?” I say, heading in her direction and then forcefully grabbing it out of her hands. “You know I only have one spare…this one is not a toy!” I know I sound like her mom right now, but I’m on edge today, and obviously, Mandy can tell.
“Also, I’m not irritable.” Mandy raises an eyebrow at me, and I sigh. “Okay, maybe I am, but it’s not like I want to feel this way. Trust me, my baking suffers when I feel like crap.” I look at the room
surrounding me, and I’m overwhelmed. There are baking sheets on every surface with cookies, croissants, butter tarts, muffins, cupcakes…anything you can think of. I should have gotten here earlier this morning, I know it. But I was up late last night, thinking about my conversation with Noah and what it means for us. We’ve only been seeing each other for about a month, but he’s crawled his way into my life. I can’t wake up without thinking about him, and I can’t go to sleep without talking to him first. I’ve never been this attached to someone this fast, and it scares me.
“What’s going on?” Mandy asks as she gets up and heads in my direction. She reaches me and then leans against the table, her arms crossed.
“I don’t know…” I say honestly. “It’s like I’m waiting for something to happen.” I go back to rolling up the croissants to avoid her gaze. Mandy is my best friend, she can sense my emotions before I do, so seeing what she thinks of my fears without really saying them aloud is going to be interesting.
“With you and Noah?” she asks, and I shrug. “It’s been a month, right?” I nod, still not saying anything. “Nothing happens in a month, Val. I mean, look what happened with Chris. It took years for that ball to drop.” She has a point, but what she doesn’t know is that I think the ball is falling, though it hasn’t hit the ground yet. That’s what I’m waiting for. The impending implosion.
“I just feel like he’s not being totally open about everything, you know?” She nods but gives me a smirk that tells me something sarcastic is going to fall from her lips.
“Well, he is a guy, you know? They don’t tend to be very open about their feelings.” I crack a smile because she’s right. Chris was the same, and it took me forever to get him to open up. I guess I was hoping this time would be different.
“I know, dumbass.” She sticks her tongue out at me as I finish off the croissants and bring them to the oven. “It’s just that when we talk about our pasts, he sort of avoids the subject altogether, you know? He’ll talk a little about his family, but it feels like he’s holding back.”
“Well, have you talked to him about your doubts?” I eye her. She knows that I haven’t, and that I probably won’t because I hate confrontation. “Of course, you haven’t. Well, I would give you my two cents, but you already know what they’re going to be.” I roll my eyes and head into the main part of the bakery. I go to the tables and clean them, then I go to the display case and clean that as best as I can before we open. “You can’t avoid this forever. It will bite you in the ass, then you’ll come crying to me when something bad happens, and you need a drink.”
“Urgh, I know, okay? I’ve tried to bring it up a few times, but he just shuts me down. Like ignored all questions having to do with his past, and I feel like a bitch when I push him. So, right now, I just need to get ready for the day and not think about the fact that my boyfriend might be a serial killer, and I’ll never know because I’m chickenshit.”
“Fine, but just so you know, you are chickenshit.” She kisses me on the cheek as she heads for the front door.
“Love you, too!” I shout as she waves without looking back at me and shuts the door behind her. I look at my watch and curse. Shit, I need to get going if I’m going to have everything ready by morning rush.
It’s been a crazy morning, and for the first time today, I finally have no one in the shop and can sit and eat my lunch. I look at my watch and see that it’s just after eleven a.m., and I know I’ll be slammed again in about half an hour. So, I grab one of my croissants and the secret jar of peanut butter I stash away for emergencies. I slather the pastry in the nut butter and take a huge bite. Just as I finish the sandwich and go in search of my water bottle, I hear the bell over the door jingle, and I turn to see a very well dressed, very poised woman walk up to the display case.
“Can I help you?” I ask as I make my way over to where she’s standing. The moment I’m within a foot of her, I smell the overwhelming cloud of Chanel, and it takes everything in me not to cough at the scent. Her hair is short, blunt-cut, and black. Her skin is like porcelain, and her outfit screams “money.” She is the type of person that Chris wanted me to become. Someone who looks the part. Judging by the look in her eye when she scans me from head to toe, she knows how different we are.
“I was told that this was the place to go if I was in the mood for something sweet. And from the look of this display, I think I was led to the right place!” She smiles, and I can’t help the grin that overtakes my face. Although I can almost feel the judgment falling off her in waves, I will always have a soft spot for someone who appreciates my bakery.
“Thank you so much. Was there anything you were looking for specifically?” I ask, watching her eyes scan the display.
“I think I’ll take two of the red velvet cupcakes. They’re my kryptonite,” she says, laughing.
“Honestly, me, too. It takes everything in me not to bake extra just for myself.” She laughs, but I can tell it’s fake.
“Sweetie, I envy your willpower.” I smile as I box up the cupcakes and bring them to the register.
“Anything else?” I ask as her eyes scan the goodies once more.
“I think I’ll take the butter tarts to my husband. Since he’s the one who told me to come here in the first place. He loves them.” I gather everything in a bag and ring her up.
“Well, I hope he likes them,” I say, handing over her purchase. “Can I ask who he is, so next time I see him I can thank him for sending me business?” I say jokingly, but what comes out of her mouth sends my whole world upside down.
“His name is Noah. Noah Taylor. Have a great day!” she says, smiling as she walks out of the shop, carrying a bag of goodies for the man I’m falling in love with. And she’s his wife.
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
NINETEEN
“Bye, Mr. Taylor!” Derek yells as he walks out the door. I wave, shutting the door behind him and heading back to my desk. The piles of paper scattered over every inch of the mahogany top make my anxiety rear its ugly head. I knew starting this family tree project was going to be a big undertaking, but I’m not sure I realized just how much work it would be on my end. The kids love it, though, so I guess I have to suck it up and start grading before it’s too late, and I have to pull an all-nighter.
As I stare at the pile of papers in front of me, I sigh. When you become a teacher, no one ever tells you that you have to become an expert at hieroglyphics because reading an eight-year-old’s handwriting is like trying to decipher some kind of ancient code. Some of my students have great cursive, and I hate to say that most of them are girls. I don’t know what it is with boys and messy handwriting, but it’s like we’re born with no desire to write legibly. It took me years of practice to make sure my handwriting was clear for the kids, especially when they’re this young. If I taught high school? I would make them read my horrible penmanship just for fun.
I stare at the pile of papers in front of me again and then glance at the clock. It’s just past three in the afternoon. That gives me at least five hours until I have to be at Val’s place. Thinking of Val sends a horrible sinking feeling down my whole body. I know she can sense that I’m hiding something. Well, not hiding exactly. Maybe I’m just scared that when she finds out about Amy, she’ll run for the hills. I would.
My relationship with Amy has always been complicated, and still is to this day. But the idea of Val leaving me, exiting my life like some fall breeze, makes me sick. Val is everything I want in a woman. She’s smart, sexy, and easy to be around. She makes me feel like a normal human being. She’s down to earth, doesn’t care about others perception of her, and is dedicated to making her dreams come true, which is an amazing quality to have. I knew the moment I met her that I would fall hard for her. I just didn’t expect to fall so fast and realize it when we weren’t on speaking terms, and in the middle of a fight I didn’t know if I could win.
I look at my phone for the millionth time today, wondering if Val texted, but I know she
hasn’t. I haven’t heard from her since she agreed to see me tonight. At lunch, I sent her a quick can’t wait to see you text and waited for something from her but heard nothing.
Shit.
I’m going to have to grovel like I’ve never done before. But I’m ready to fight for this, for us. I know we’re meant to be together, and I know she knows it, too…I can see it in her eyes when she smiles at me. I just need to convince her that the fight is worth it. That I’m worth it.
Just as I’m about to call her so I can hear her voice, a knock comes from my classroom door. I look over, already smiling because it’s probably Sarah needing more markers since she seems to go through them like most people go through pens. But when the door opens, it takes me a minute to realize who is standing in the doorway.
What the fuck is she doing in my classroom?
“Noah! Honey, look at you! You look so quaint in your little classroom!” Amy squeals as she shuts the door behind her and makes her way over to my desk. She sets down her purse, which is probably worth more than my monthly salary, and leans against one of the kids’ desks.
“Amy, what are you doing here?” I ask sternly. I make eye contact only for her to wink in my direction, making me shake my head. She will never change.
I take in the sight before me. The woman who, at twenty, I thought I would spend the rest of my life with. Her short, black hair is the same as it always was, straight with no hair out of place. She reeks of that perfume she swears is designer but just smells like chemicals, and her outfit is as perfect as she wants me to believe she is.