Noah and Me

by Beckie Stevenson

  “She can’t,” he says. “Look at the state of her.”

  Charming. Now I raise my eyebrow at him.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “You’re pretty, but you’re an emotional, angry, confused wreck.”

  “And that’s supposed to be better than what you thought I was thinking?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “It sounded better in my head.”

  “Have you seriously just told another girl that you think she’s pretty when I’m standing right here?” Tara shrieks. “Seriously, Noah?”

  I blink at him and start smiling.

  “What?” he asks, frowning at me.

  “Your name is Noah?” I whisper.

  He nods.

  “You didn’t even tell her your name?!” Tara says disbelievingly.

  Noah shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. “No, I guess I didn’t.”

  “It’s nice,” I say. “It’s biblical, like mine. My mum and dad seemed to have a thing about picking names from the Bible.”

  “Ha!” Tara laughs. “If Ariel is a biblical name, then I’ll gift you a night with my boyfriend so you can do whatever the hell you want with him.”

  I can’t help but smile at her. “How about you gift me a night with him so he can do whatever the hell he wants with me?” I counter.

  Tara narrows her eyes at me. “You’re sick in the head.”

  “I’m going,” I say. I turn to face Noah and feel my smile hesitate on my lips. Why do I suddenly feel weird? “Thank you…for everything.”

  I can tell he wants to say more, but I’m guessing he can’t because of the little witch that’s standing in front of him. I take one big step towards him and throw my arms around his neck. “Good luck,” I whisper into his ear just as Tara starts to snort like an angry pig.

  “Seriously,” she mutters, “your parents must have been thick. What a fucking stupid name.”

  My eyes lock onto Noah’s for a few seconds as a single fat tear rolls down my cheek. How dare she talk about my parents like that? I notice how he sighs before he discreetly nods, just the once. I clench my fist, spin around on my heels and punch her in her ugly face.

  And then I turn and run.

  I exit his house into a clear, crisp winter morning in nothing more than what I woke up in. The air is cold and the ground is covered in frost. As I walk down the lane, I realise that the horrible, weird feeling I have in my chest is sadness. Not the heartbreaking kind that I’ve been used to feeling lately, but just normal sadness. I’m sad because I don’t even know the guy but I already know that I’m going to miss him. How the fuck did that happen?

  Chapter 14

  NOW

  Things Go Bump In The Night

  I hear banging. I open my eyes to the continuing thump coming from the hallway.

  “Oh, God. Yes!” screeches Ruby.

  “I’m going to come,” a deep voice announces.

  Bloody hell. I blink at the clock and see that’s it’s nearly two in the morning. What the hell is she doing? Or more appropriately, who is she doing?

  “Fuck, Owen! Fuck, yes!”

  Well, that answered my question. Jesus. Since when did she start making so much noise while having sex? I pull my pillow over my head and turn onto my stomach. My face is throbbing from where it was hit, but I choose to ignore it. If I think about how I got it, then I start to think about who gave it to me, and I’m not wasting any more of my time on him.

  “Ruby,” Owen grunts. “Ruby.”

  I scrunch my face up and bury my face into the mattress. This is really gross. I hear more knocking, but it doesn’t sound like it’s the wall this time. I pull the pillow from my head and toss it back onto the bed with a huff. I’m supposed to be getting up in two hours to go for my run.

  Knock, knock.

  I don’t believe it. Who is knocking on our apartment at this time of night?

  I climb out of bed, smooth my white, silk nightie down and rub at my eyes as I yawn. Maybe it’s next door coming to complain about the noise? Oh, I hope so, I think as I pad barefoot across the floor towards the door. I’m thinking about how embarrassed Ruby would be and find myself smirking as I pull the door open.

  I notice his sad, pale eyes and the weird expression on his face and my smirk instantly disappears. I fold my arms across my chest to cover up the fact that my nipples are poking through the silk fabric.

  Noah stares into my eyes for a long time. Hundreds of conversations that we’ve had flutter through my memories, swamping me with images. I remember the first time he spoke to me and how immature and childish I was. I remember how his girlfriend had freaked out when she’d discovered us in his house. I remember the way I loved him, but then I remember how distant we are from each other right now and sigh.

  “What do you want, Noah?”

  He rubs at his temple and leans his forearm against the doorframe above his head. “I’ve sobered up,” he tells me.

  I fake-smile at him. “That’s great. Thanks for knocking on my door at two in the morning to tell me that.”

  He shakes his head and closes his eyes. “I’ve come to say sorry,” he tells me.

  I stare at him, hating myself for wanting to pull him into me so I can beg for his forgiveness.

  “So say it,” I whisper.

  He stops looking at the floor and locks his eyes onto mine. “I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “I’m sorry I came to your apartment when I was drunk, and I’m sorry that you got hurt. It won’t happen again.”

  I want to ask him if he’s sorry for saying he loved me, but I bite my tongue.

  “Oh, fuck,” Ruby sniggers. She starts to pant and laugh at the same time. “Put it back in, put it back in.”

  Erm, awkward. I look back up at Noah, who has suddenly found the dark blue carpet interesting. I can see the corner of his mouth pulling up.

  “It’s Ruby,” I tell him.

  “Yeah, I figured it wasn’t you,” he says.

  “And Owen,” I continue. “He keeps telling her that he’s going to come.”

  Noah smiles. “Yeah, apparently he sort of does that.”

  “Does he apologise for doing it afterwards too?”

  “I don’t know,” he says, nodding towards her bedroom door. “I’m guessing we’re about to find out.”

  Eww.

  “Oh, God, I’m going to come,” groans Owen. Then he makes a weird noise that sounds like a constipated dog straining to empty his bowels.

  I scowl at Noah, who belly laughs really loud.

  “Shh,” I whisper. “You’ll wake my neighbours.”

  “They’ll wake your neighbours,” he says, laughing. “What the hell was he doing in there?”

  There is no way I’m putting up with that noise every night. “You’d better hope he likes one-night stands,” I tell him.

  “Why, is she like you?” he asks quickly.

  And that’s all it takes for the atmosphere to turn to ice again. He stares as if he’s reading me for a few seconds and then clears his face of any emotion. He’s back to being the Noah who doesn’t give a shit.

  “I think you’d better go,” I say softly.

  He takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, I probably should.”

  He says it like he regrets that we had a normal conversation.

  Just as he’s about to turn around, the door to Ruby’s bedroom swings open and out walks Owen in his birthday suit. He grins at me and then halts when he finally notices Noah hanging around the door.

  “Oh,” he mumbles, looking nervously back at Ruby’s door. “It’s you two.”

  I smirk at him, turning my head back towards Noah.

  “I think you should put some pants on,” says Noah. His voice is calm and flat but he looks irritated.

  Owen smiles his big Ken-doll smile and shakes his head, making his blonde hair flap against his forehead. “I’m going to dive back in there for round two. Thanks for caring though, mate. What are you doing here anyway?” Owen asks, his eyes flickin
g between the two of us.

  “Nothing,” Noah says.

  The tone of his voice suddenly sounds a lot more intriguing.

  “Go on,” urges Owen. “What did you want?”

  “Nothing,” Noah says. “I was just checking to see that everything was alright.”

  I take a deep breath and turn around so I’m fully facing Owen. I watch his eyes scan over my face in confusion. “How did you get that bruise on your cheek?” he asks.

  Bruise? I flick my head back over my shoulder. “There’s a bruise on my face?”

  Noah sighs, looking bored. “A little one.”

  “You’ve bruised my fucking face?!” I hiss. “What the hell am I supposed to tell work?”

  He has the audacity to look ashamed. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “It was an accident.”

  “You’ve bruised my fucking face!” I screech. “‘Sorry’ really isn’t going to cut it.”

  Noah huffs. “You can just tell them that you walked into a door.”

  I shake my head. He’s spoken to me like shit. He’s told his mates a load of bollocks about me and now he’s bruised my face. I am so not taking this shit anymore. “Go and fuck yourself, Noah,” I tell him. “Go and shove your stupid little dick up your own arse and fuck yourself!”

  Owen starts to laugh, but I spin on my heels and scowl at him. “Ruby doesn’t do two rounds,” I tell him. “She never has. So go back in there, get your boxers on and take your pathetic mate back to his apartment.”

  “So he can fuck himself?” asks Owen.

  “You’ve changed,” says Noah, completely ignoring Owen. “And I don’t like it.”

  “In case you haven’t realised, I don’t care if you like it or not,” I spit. “You’re the one accosting me in corridors and threatening me to stay away. You’re the one coming to my apartment when you’re steaming drunk and punching me in the face, and you’re the one that came knocking on my door in the middle of the night, Noah. Why don’t you try practising what you preach?”

  Noah freezes and gives me his cold, menacing glare. “You’re right,” he says. “You haven’t once made any attempt to come anywhere near me.”

  I shake my head but feel a frown creeping across my forehead. “I was trying to stay away,” I whisper.

  “Well, you should have tried harder.”

  Chapter 15

  THEN

  Two Days After The Night Before

  I tie a double knot in the black bin bag and haul it up off the floor. As I struggle across the landing, I realise the bag is too heavy and let it drop back down onto the carpet. Who would have thought paper weighed so much? I huff and start to walk down the stairs, pulling the bag behind me while letting it bang and plonk down each step. I hook my foot behind the front door and kick it open. The second my foot hits the paved white garden path, the heavens decide to open and drench me before I’ve even managed to get the bag into the skip.

  And it’s not the good kind of rain. The good kind of rain is when you’re desperate for some rain to cool off on a roasting hot summer’s day and when it comes, it sprinkles from the sky in warm, tiny droplets. Just like fairy dust. This rain is like tiny cold needles falling out of the sky, and each one seems to be aiming straight for me and stabbing me in the eye.

  I bend down, scoop the bag into my arms and use all the strength in my legs to push up so I can propel myself enough to throw the bag over the side of the skip. “Ouch,” I say, rubbing my wrist. It still hasn’t fully healed since the accident, but I think it’s because I’ve not been taking care of it properly. I circle my hand around to try and stretch the muscles out a bit, but it doesn’t help. I sigh and look up at the house. I guess I’m just going to have to clear it all out with one hand. Great.

  “You want some help?”

  I push my wet hair from out of my eyes and squint through the torrent of water that’s falling from the sky. Help would be amazing right now, but I falter when I see Noah, who looks just as wet as I do. I feel a flush of embarrassment creep up from my chest and burst onto my cheeks as our eyes connect. I came onto him in the shower like a desperate, needy virgin. What was I thinking? “How did you know where I live?”

  He grins at me. “I know everything.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Do you want some help, Ariel?” he asks again.

  I’ll never get it all done on my own, so I nod my head. “Yes, please.” He’s wearing normal clothes today. Black denim jeans, black boots, a red jumper and a black body-warmer over the top. His light brown hair looks almost black and his eyes are sparkling at me. “I’ve got about twelve more bags to chuck in and then the upstairs is pretty much done. Except for the beds and wardrobes.”

  He eyes up the skip. “Are they going in here too?”

  “Yep,” I say, grinning at him. “If they can fit.”

  He shrugs and starts to walk up the path to me. “How were you going to get them in without help?”

  I hadn’t gotten that far. “I haven’t the foggiest.”

  I hear him laughing as he walks behind me. “Listen,” he says. “I wanted to thank you for not outing me to Tara the other morning.”

  I stop with my foot on the first step. “It’s okay.”

  He pulls my arm back, forcing me to step back down and look at him. When my eyes meet his, something moves inside me. I want to jump into his eyes and swim in those turquoise blue waters.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about her,” he says, surveying my face. “We were on a break, but I still should have told you. And I probably shouldn’t have done what I did with you.”

  I nod slowly. I don’t think it would have made a blind bit of difference if he had told me, and I hate how that makes me feel. “It’s fine,” I tell him. “Really.”

  “So we’re good?” he asks.

  “We’re good,” I clarify. “What about you and Tara?”

  “Urgh,” he huffs, letting go of my arm. “You women drive me insane. Let’s just say we’re no longer on a break.”

  “Well, you men drive us women insane,” I say quickly, trying to mask my disappointment.

  He raises his eyebrow at me. “How would you know?”

  He’s referring to my lack of experience with men. I guess he has a point. “Lots of women moan about men,” I say, turning back around. I start walking up the stairs, dreading what he’s going to think when he sees the state of the place. “So you’re properly back together?” I ask as we reach the top.

  “We broke up,” he says, coming to stand next to me on the landing. “And she says it’s for good this time.”

  “Did you tell her the truth?”

  “No,” he says, shaking his head. “I didn’t see the point.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell her that we had sex if she thought you did anyway? You were on a break, so you weren’t doing anything wrong, were you?”

  “It’s complicated,” he says, shaking his head. “I didn’t want her hating you for it and I didn’t want your memories of your first time to be even more shit than they already were. It wasn’t your fault that we were on a break and she would have had no right to be even more of a bitch to you than she already was.”

  I nod. If that’s how he’s going to defend his own actions in his head, then he can. It really doesn’t make much difference to me. “She is a bit of a bitch.”

  “Yeah, sometimes,” he says, peering into the rooms. “Have you got to get rid of all of this stuff?”

  I clear my throat at the change of subject. “Yes. Where else am I going to put it?”

  “I read about the crash in the newspaper. I’m sorry,” he says. “Are you getting rid of Michael’s stuff too?”

  I glance up into the eaves at his bedroom door that has remained closed the whole time. “Yes, I think so.”

  “Don’t you think he might want a say in what stuff you keep or chuck? Something you might consider crap, he might think is sentimental.”

  I grab two black bags and swing around. “
It’s too late to ask him, and I don’t care what he wants or not.”

  “Ariel,” Noah says gently. “He couldn’t have known what would happen.”

  I take a deep breath and lean back against a door. The boiler behind it rattles in protest. “They’re gone,” I say. “And that’s all that matters.”

  Four hours later, we’ve managed to clear the whole of the upstairs. I flick the kettle on and lean back against the sink, trying to massage my sore neck while the water boils.

  “Why are you doing this today anyway?” Noah asks, coming into the kitchen and sitting himself down at my table.

  I smile at him. He’s a really, really lovely boy. Well, at twenty-three he’s more of a man, but I won’t tell him that. He’s polite, caring and helpful, and I’ve managed to find out a lot about him in the last four hours. The main focus of my questioning was his family and Tara, who he met at university and has been with for three years. He said he’s sure that she’s the one he’ll end up marrying and having children with, but she gets on his nerves. She can’t understand his need to be alone sometimes. It sounds as if she’s insecure to me, but I didn’t tell him that. What I did tell him was that I thought she was rude and that he could do a lot better than her, but he was quick to remind me that I didn’t know her.

  His family was another matter. They sounded just like mine, their house full of love, laughter and jokes. He told me that he remembers his mother the clearest and that his strongest memory is of her coming into his room every single night and reading him a few pages out of a book that was aimed at children much older than him. He said it was a big family and they always had lots of things going on, but his mum always made time to come and cuddle and read to him at night. He also said he remembers her smell, and I can completely relate to that.

  It turns out that we’re a lot alike in other ways too. We both like sport. We both hate carrots. We both think manners cost nothing, and we both like to avoid talking about the fact that he fucked me two days ago.

  “Today is as good a day as any,” I say in answer to his question. “And it needs doing.”