by L.H. Cosway
“I’m sorry,” I said again, head lowered in supplication, eyes downcast. It was a far cry from how I’d dealt with her the morning of her birthday party, but right now she’d invaded my tiny personal space and was as wild as a tornado, eyes bloodshot and alcohol on her breath. I could smell it on her like it was seeping from her pores.
“Sorry isn’t good enough!” she screamed, and I yelped when she grabbed onto my bookshelf and pushed it over. It fell on top of my bed with a loud crash and I backed up into the wall. My seashell creations shattered, and my books flew everywhere. Vee picked up a book, opened it and began tearing out the pages. The tears I’d been holding back fell in earnest.
“No!” I cried, trying to pry the book from her, but booze seemed to give her inhuman strength. She grabbed hold of me and yanked the cross pendant from my neck, the one my dad gave me, snapping it in half and pushing me to the floor. Pain shattered up my spine. I cried as she continued to tear pages out of my books. I didn’t have many, but I treasured each one, and now Vee was destroying them all. I picked up my broken pendant, cradling it in my hand. It was the most precious thing I owned, and she’d snapped it so callously, like it meant nothing.
Noah suddenly appeared in the doorway. “What the hell, Vee?” he demanded. He was out of breath, like he’d just run downstairs.
“Get out,” Vee snapped. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“She’s terrified of you, Veronica,” Noah said, his voice low and calm. “You’ve made your point.”
“Oh, no I haven’t,” she hissed. “Not by a long shot. Did you know this little bitch got herself suspended from school for fighting?”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t—”
“You knew!” Vee shouted, flying into an even worse rage now. She stomped on more of my possessions, crushing them into the floor. I was sobbing; big, horrible ones that made my chest heave. Noah came and picked me up, carrying me from the room.
My dark, shadowy saviour.
“This was a bad move,” he said to Vee, the disappointment in his voice unmistakable.
He carried me out of my room and up the stairs, pushing open the door to the guest bedroom to lay me down on his bed. “Hey,” he whispered, stroking my cheek. “It’s okay. I’ll fix your shelf once she calms down a bit. She’ll lose her steam soon enough.”
His touch was gentle as he lifted me again to pull back the covers. A moment later, I was completely cocooned in his duvet, his scent surrounding me. Noah always smelled like the sea, and it soothed me as my sobs died down and exhaustion took over. Today had drained me more than I realised.
“Why is Vee so cruel to me?” I asked in the smallest voice.
Noah exhaled, his sculpted features and sad eyes somehow reminding me of a weeping Virgin Mary statue. “My sister has a lot of anger. The problem is few people know how to be angry at the right person at the right time. Usually it’s an unsuspecting innocent who bears the brunt of it.”
“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve her hatred.”
“She doesn’t hate you. She just …” he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Yeah, she hated me all right. I wished to find the strength to forgive her, but right now I hated her just as much.
“Get some sleep,” Noah said softly, stroking my cheek once more. I trembled at the touch of his skin against mine and closed my eyes, sleep quickly pulling me under. I slept like the dead, my broken pendant clasped in my hand. I woke only once, vaguely aware that I was alone in the bed. I wondered where Noah was sleeping before exhaustion pulled me under again.
The next time I woke up it was morning. Light filled the room. Noah never seemed to pull his curtains. Maybe he liked to wake naturally with the rising sun. Or maybe he liked seeing the stars in the dark.
I sat up in bed and looked around, not wanting to leave the room and possibly face Vee. The memory of her pushing over my shelf and tearing at my books hit me, and I started to cry again. My possessions weren’t much but they were all I had. I sat like that for long minutes, just quietly crying until the door handle turned, and someone pushed the door open a smidge. No one entered. Instead a disembodied hand appeared holding a smartphone. Music played from the speaker, and I recognised the intro to “Magic Dance” from Labyrinth.
I frowned, confused as to what was going on as I wiped at my wet cheeks. When David Bowie started to speak, Noah appeared. He clutched the phone like it was a microphone and lip synced about the power of voodoo.
My only reaction was a weak, surprised laugh. Noah Dylan was being a goof, and it stemmed the flow of my tears, pieced together the parts of me Vee had crushed last night.
I remained sitting in the bed as he shimmied towards me, doing his best impression of Jareth the Goblin King. I had no words. He held the phone in one hand and reached out with his other to pull me from the bed. He spun me around, and a giggle escaped me. This was just too bizarre. Shivers slithered down my spine when he slid one arm around my waist and swayed my body from side to side. I realised he wasn’t merely lip syncing, but quietly singing along. The ridiculousness gave way to a weird tingly sensation in the pit of my stomach.
He had a really nice voice.
“What are you doing?” I asked over the music.
Noah didn’t answer, just continued to sing. I knew what he was doing though. In his own strange way, he was trying to cheer me up, and it was working.
As the song ended, my cheeks began to heat from the proximity of our bodies. The brush of fabric, the faint warmth that travelled from him into me. The music ceased, and Noah stepped away, a smile touching his lips as he asked, “Did you sleep okay?”
I shyly tucked some hair behind my ear. “Yes. Surprisingly, I did. Thanks for, um, letting me sleep in your bed.”
“Don’t worry about it. Go get dressed. You’re coming with me today.”
“I am?”
“Would you prefer to stick around here with my demon-hearted sister?”
I shivered. “No. Definitely not.”
He surprised a yelp out of me when he gave me a playful pat on the bottom. “Get ready then. I’ll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes.”
What was that?! I didn’t have time to react to the pat, nor the tingles it solicited all through my body, as he shuffled me out of the room and closed the door. He seriously confused me. One minute he was tender, the next abrupt.
Trepidation in my gut, I went downstairs and entered my bedroom. I gasped when I saw how everything had been tidied up. Did Noah do this? My heart jumped in my chest when I noticed he’d salvaged what he could. My books were in a pile next to my resurrected shelf. The ones Vee tore had been cellotaped back together. Even the holy texts Noah gave me were damaged, and I knew there was some serious bad karma in store for Vee for tearing those. Clean sheets had been put on my bed, and several brand-new seashells sat on my pillow next to a note in Noah’s messy handwriting.
Fuck Vee. Make something new.
I touched my fingers to them in awe, my heart not knowing what to do with itself. He’d gone out onto the beach and collected shells for me? The thought made me feel way too many things.
I took in the space once more, and a feeling of panic hit me. What if Vee found where I’d stashed my money? I dashed for the loose floorboard and pulled it back, relieved when I saw the cash was still there. I slotted it back into place and went to quickly wash and dress myself.
Noah was waiting for me by the front door when I finally came downstairs. His eyes wandered from my feet all the way up to my face before he nodded to the door, and I followed him out. He climbed astride his bike and silently offered me the helmet. I put it on and climbed on behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist without hesitation this time. Being close to him soothed me, so I allowed myself the indulgence.
Noah drove us outside of town and onto the dual carriageway where there was a small food van in an empty lot just off the side of the road. It appeared to cater to passing laborers and truck drivers as there were several work v
ehicles parked along the hard shoulder leading into the lot.
“This place makes the best breakfast rolls,” Noah said as he parked his bike. I unwrapped my arms from around him, missing his heat, and followed him to the van where he ordered two breakfast rolls and two teas. We waited a few minutes, and when our order was up, we went to sit on one of the nearby picnic benches.
I was coming to learn Noah wasn’t very conversational. He seemed to prefer companionable silence most of the time. I unwrapped my roll and took a bite. It was a heart attack in a sandwich; bacon, sausage and egg combining to make one of the most delicious things I’d ever tasted.
Noah grinned as he watched me. “Good, right?”
“So good,” I said with a little moan. Noah’s gaze heated, and a flush of embarrassment swept over me. Did he want me? The question both scared and enticed me. When he didn’t look away, I grew even more self-conscious. “What?”
“I like looking at your face.”
I swallowed down a bite of sandwich, butterflies thrumming. “Why?”
“For a long time, I didn’t get to look at faces like yours.”
I didn’t know what that meant, but I guess I would take it as a compliment? I moved my foot so that it rested against his. “Thank you for cleaning up my room and for the new shells. That was very kind of you.”
He didn’t say anything, just watched me like a wild animal who was wary of being domesticated. He also didn’t move his foot, and I suspected he liked the contact as much as I did.
We finished eating in silence. I cleaned my hands and face with a napkin, unprepared for when Noah reached out and wiped a crumb from the corner of my mouth. He licked it off his thumb, and something in the very core of me clenched at the small, quiet action. The more time I spent around him, the more certain parts of me came alive in new and unexplored ways.
We climbed on the bike, and I wrapped my arms around his waist again. I loved his heat as he drove us back into town. When he drove onto Principal Hawkins street and parked several houses away from the one I’d delivered the party invitation to, I grew wary.
“What are we doing here?”
“A little mischief,” Noah answered.
Mischief? This couldn’t be good. I hurried to keep up with him as he walked toward Principal Hawkins’ house. Noah went right up to the front door, but instead of knocking or ringing the doorbell, he pulled a small key from his pocket and slotted it in the lock. Noah pushed open the door and was about to step inside when I caught his elbow.
“What are you doing?” I whisper-hissed.
He cast me a vaguely annoyed look, like I was being dramatic. “I already told you.”
“I didn’t think you were going to break into my principal’s house! There could be people inside.”
“Nobody’s home. And I didn’t break in,” he said. “I used a key.” He held up the offending item, and I recognised it. It was the same key I found in an envelope in his drawer, the one he’d gotten from the school caretaker, Sam Ryan. Had he stolen it for Noah?
“You know what I mean,” I said, staring him down.
His gaze went to my grip on his elbow and back up to meet my eyes. “I thought about you,” he said in a low voice.
My skin tingled. “What?”
“On Saturday night. I thought about you in your blue dress,” he said, and my hold loosened, my cheeks aflame.
Noah slipped inside the house, and I swore under my breath. I knew he only said that to shock me into letting go of his arm, but a part of me wondered if it was the truth. The idea of Noah thinking about me like that made every part of my body come alive.
“Noah!” I whisper shouted as I stood on the doorstep. He didn’t respond. “Noah!” I tried again. The nefarious bastard didn’t answer, and, growing increasingly worried, I cast a quick glance over my shoulder. No one was around, and it didn’t look like any neighbours could see past the neatly trimmed hedgerows surrounding the house. Not unless they were in the habit of spying out their upstairs windows.
Deciding to take a chance, I stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind me. This was an old house, probably built in the sixties, and luckily there didn’t appear to be any alarm system in place. Still, anxiety coursed through me as I made my way through the entry hall and into the empty living room. The décor looked expensive, a lot fancier than what I expected for a school principal. Everything was pristine, too, not a speck of dust as far as I could see. A shelf full of dancing lady figurines lined one wall. The principal’s wife must’ve been a collector. Or the principal himself. You never knew.
Next, I checked the kitchen and found Noah standing in front of an open cupboard mixing up the condiments and spices.
“Why are you doing that?” I questioned curiously, keeping my voice quiet. Noah shut the cupboard and turned around, casting me a glance like he found my anxiety adorable. He picked up an apple, took a bite then placed it back in the fruit bowl.
“During the Soviet era, some say the KGB would break into people’s homes and switch things around just to fuck with their heads,” he answered.
“So, you’re trying to fuck with Principal Hawkins again?” I surmised, hands on my hips. My pulse spiked for every minute we spent not getting the hell out of there.
“He didn’t accept my invitation to Vee’s party,” Noah said, like that explained it.
“And? He said he had plans. Besides, just because someone declines an invitation doesn’t mean you break into …” He arched an admonishing eyebrow. “Okay, it doesn’t mean you enter their home uninvited.”
“If you haven’t already noticed, I’m not like most people.”
“You’re right,” I said. “You’re not like most people. I think you might be mildly deranged.”
Noah gave a chuckle. “Only mildly?”
“Highly deranged then.”
He moved by me and over to the lounge area, eyeing a brown leather chair closely before plopping down into it. Noah ran his hands along the arms, as though enjoying the feel of the leather. “Bastard owns himself an Eames lounge chair,” he commented before settling his feet on the accompanying footstool, leisurely crossing them at the ankle as he brought his hands up and clasped them behind his head.
“It’s a nice chair,” I said with a shrug.
Noah eyed me pointedly. “Have you any clue how much one of these can cost? Well into the thousands. Hawkins did well out of my father.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Victor was an investor. He made a lot of money for his friends when he was alive. You certainly don’t own a chair like this on a school principal’s salary.”
“Oh. Well, I guess there are worse things to spend your money on,” I said. “How do you know so much about chairs anyway?” I remembered his comments about the new chairs at the private club where he worked.
“I read a book about designer furniture once. The chair sections were my favourite.”
“You are so odd.”
“No, I’m not. People don’t realise the importance of a comfortable chair. Life is fucking shit without one. Believe me, I know,” he said, then rose and slipped back out into the hall. I was momentarily struck by his curious statement, before recalling where we were. My panic returned. He was already halfway up the stairs.
“Noah, please don’t go up there,” I begged, but he didn’t listen. I swore under my breath and went after him, finding him in the principal’s bedroom. Noah picked up a picture of Hawkins and his wife that sat on the nightstand and turned it upside down. Then he opened the wardrobe and sifted through the principal’s wife’s clothes. I watched as he pulled out a Swiss army knife, the same one I found in his bag when I’d snooped in his bedroom. He found a sleeveless purple dress with sparkly tassels and tore it right down the middle with the knife.
“Noah,” I hissed. “Stop that. It’s destruction of property.”
He glanced at me as he grabbed another one, tearing it down the middle, same as the last. “
But it feels so satisfying. I like the sound it makes,” he said, and goose bumps tightened my skin at the flash of madness in his eyes.
He was about to slice through another one when I hurried over and caught his hand in mine. “Stop,” I whispered. “Please.”
His green gaze latched onto me, and the madness faded. His grip slackened, and I took the knife. Just to be on the safe side, I slotted it in my jeans pocket and thought of what Aoife said about Noah being “psychopath adjacent.” I wondered if she might’ve been onto something. It was worrying that the thought didn’t scare me. Instead I felt even more drawn to him.
There was a pull to his unpredictability. An alluring thrill in the mystery of how his mind worked. The fact that I’d followed him in here instead of walking away could attest to that.
Noah went over to the dressing table, where a selection of Hawkins’ wife’s make-up was lined against the mirror. Noah picked his way through the small tubs and containers, finding a tube of lipstick that appeared to be brand new. He pulled off the sticky plastic seal and motioned me over.
“Come here,” he said, uncapping it and twisting to reveal the ruby red shade.
Wariness filled me. “Why?”
He levelled the full intensity of his gaze on me and used the low, husky tone I was weak to resist. “Estella.”
Ugh! I hated how much I liked it when he said my name like that. Hesitantly, I approached.
I stood before him, and he caught my chin in his hand. He touched me softly, and I suppressed a shiver as he tipped my chin up. When he brought the lipstick to my lips I moved away. “No. Don’t put that on me. It’s not mine.”
“But it’ll look good on you,” he murmured, and something between my legs pulsed. It was like he hypnotised me. When he lifted the lipstick again, I didn’t move away. His pupils dilated. I swear I stopped breathing as he glided it across my lips. When he was finished, he stepped back, tilting his head as he surveyed me.
“You look powerful.”
I wrinkled my brow. “Don’t be silly.”
At this he moved close. Placing his hands on my hips, he turned me to face the mirror. “See?” he whispered.