“Well, hell,” Noah laughed, a mischievous grin curling his lips. “I’m sorry, this guy I work with, Trevor Davis, he said I could borrow his boat.” Noah turned toward the bank, shielding his eyes from the bright light. The man dropped the spotlight to his side. “I’m real sorry about the mix-up,” Noah said, leaning over to grab the motor. “I’ll bring it right back over to you.”
“Well.” The man shifted on his feet before walking to the edge of the pier. “The eight is a little faded, I could see how you’d make the mistake.”
Noah shot a knowing glance at me, his smile deepening. “I’m not gonna let you get in trouble,” he whispered.
God, he was too good at that.
17
Noah
The engine idled at the front of her drive.
“Thanks for tonight,” she said, placing her hand on the door. “Even if you almost got me sent to jail.”
“Hold on a second.” I hopped out of the truck and rounded the front, stopping to open Hannah’s door.
A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “A true southern gentleman I see?” she said and stepped out.
“I don’t know about that, but my grandma ‘bout beat the idea of manners in my head.”
The wind kicked up, blowing her hair across her face. I took the opportunity to brush it away simply because I wanted to touch her. Our eyes locked and there was this tension churning between us, some pull I’d never experienced. With every girl I’d been with, there was no waiting, no guessing. I knew they wanted me. I knew exactly what they wanted. I could kiss them, fuck them… but Hannah, I was nervous to even hold her damn hand. I’d never cared if a girl wanted to see me a second time. I’d never wanted a girl to miss me, until her. I wanted Hannah Blake to miss me. Damn, I wanted to kiss her that night. Just as I trailed my thumb over her jaw and wet my lips with my tongue, she coyly glanced down at the ground. Innocent. Scared.
“Well,” she said, swinging her arm at her side as she slowly backed away from me. “I guess I’ll see you later.”
“Hey, I punched a guy and stole a boat for you tonight, the least you could do is give me your number.”
“My number?” She laughed.
“Yeah, you know… in case I find a good song I need to share with someone or something.”
“For some reason, I doubt you have a short supply of numbers.”
Damn. I smiled even though the thought that she thought of me that way made me cringe. “I don’t have yours.”
She turned around and walked up the first few porch steps. “Nine six six three zero two one.”
“Well, shit, hang on…” I clumsily fished my phone out of my pocket and started to type. Nine six six thre…. Shit. “Zero two…what?”
She glanced over her shoulder, giving this timid little flash of a wave before slipping inside her house. I laughed under my breath, shaking my head as I typed in a one and prayed that was right before I dropped the phone in my pocket.
With a smile on my face, I climbed into my truck, taking note when the window in front of the tree lit up. That girl drove me crazy in every way I liked. So much so, she was still on my mind when I passed Grandma’s house. I drove to the end of the road and took a right, then an immediate left, parking beside the tiny rental house I called home.
“Hey, shithead!” I heard as soon as I opened my door. My ninety-year-old landlord was hanging over the chain-link fence with a crumpled beer can in his hand.
“Hey, Old Man.” That’s what everyone in town called him. Come to think of it, to this day I have no idea what his name was.
“It’s late, what’cha doin’ with yo’ ass out this late?”
“Just working.”
“Aw, shit.” His face contorted, and he belched. “You ain’t been out there after none that poontang pie?”
I scrunched my brow and slammed my car door. “What?”
He shook his empty beer can at me. “Them ladies. You’re too young’n be comin’ back here and spend’n the night with yo’ hand and some Vaseline.”
I waved a dismissive hand at him. “Go on to bed, Old Man.”
“Aw, alright then. Wastin’ yo’ damn youth.” And with that, he stumbled back to a cooler, grabbed a beer, and fell into the beat-up lawn chair by the back door. Crazy old man, I thought as I unlocked my door.
I flipped the light switch before I tossed my keys on the one end table in the room. Most days, I didn’t mind this shithole, but for some reason that day it made me feel like a failure. One bedroom. One bath. A kitchen with three cabinets and uneven flooring. Don’t get me wrong, I was grateful. Hell, I only paid three hundred a month for rent, but… I glanced at the “Golden Girls” replica couch I’d gotten from the Salvation Army, then at the bare walls with peeling wallpaper… Girls like Hannah—you didn’t bring them someplace like this.
I scrubbed a hand over my face. What the hell was I thinking? It was easy to pretend none of that mattered, especially with a girl as sweet as she was, but really… I could have taken her all the way out to Birmingham to have a nice steak dinner at J. Alexander’s, but eventually, I would have had no choice but to bring her back to my shitty house and then what? Then she’d have seen how much of a mismatch we were. Sure, a poor girl can get a rich guy, but the rich girl never goes for the poor guy. Hannah wasn’t exactly rich, but she sure as shit wasn’t poor.
Exhaling, I pulled my shirt off on the way to bed, and when I flopped down on the mattress to go to sleep, I could still smell her on my skin. I smiled at that and I pretended it all could work out.
I pretended I could be the guy she’d love. I pretended I could be the guy that would love her.
After all, dreaming was what life was about, right?
______
The Weeknd blared over the radio, and I sang along as I threw a sandwich together. Mayonnaise dribbled down my chin when I took a bite. When I turned around to grab a paper towel, Trevor had unexpectedly appeared in the middle of the kitchen and I nearly shit myself. “What the hell, man?” A piece of tomato fell from my mouth, splattering on the floor. “You can’t just walk into someone’s house.”
“Well, you didn’t answer the door.”
“What if I’d been beatin’ off or some shit?” I shook my head and took another bite.
“I take my chances.” He went to my fridge and snagged a beer.
“It’s lunch.”
He popped the tab. “Yep.” Then took a swig.
“Did ole’ Meg stay over last night?”
“Yeah.”
“God, you’re a dog, you know it? You don’t even like her.”
He grinned and took another gulp while pulling his phone from the pocket of his jeans. “Sometimes I do.”
“What the hell are you doing over here?”
“We’re going to the Benson sisters’ house for a BBQ, remember?”
“What?” I said with a mouthful of sandwich.
“Yeah, we talked about it last week. Daisy was really excited.” He flashed a sleazy smile.
“Oh, hell no.” Daisy Benson was possibly the most annoying woman on the face of the earth. She had this irritating habit of not eating the last bite of her fries. She’d just toss the last piece down on her plate. It drove me nuts in high school. I was pretty sure it was the only reason I had never screwed her before. Well that, and her dog-whistle octave of laugh that ended in a snort. Every single time. “I’m not spending my entire day off with Daisy Benson while you try to sack Lori again.” I tossed a hand through the air like an umpire calling an out. “Hell no, man! Forget it.”
“What’s wrong with you? Daisy’s hot.” He chugged the rest of the beer and crushed the can.
“She’s…” I struggled to find the words to do her justice, so I settled with, “She’s a terrible human being.”
“A terrible—” he laughed, face-palming. “What has gotten into you?”
“She used to call me No-No our senior year.”
“And?”
“She’s just… dumb. There is no depth there. At all.”
“She’s got depth where it counts.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Look, you owe me for getting your ass outta jail. Daisy won’t leave us alone if she’s not preoccupied.”
I groaned. “Fine, but I’m not fucking her.”
“I don’t care if you play Tic-Tac-Toe as long as you keep her occupied for thirty minutes.”
“Man, you just got laid last night.”
“No.” He tossed the beer in the trash then shoved his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t.”
“You didn’t sleep with Meg?”
“What is this an FBI interrogation?”
“It’s just…” I snarled, half confused, half intrigued. “It’s not like you.”
“Yeah, well, shit happens sometimes.”
Two hours later and there I sat out in the heat with mosquitoes feasting on me like I was the damn Red Cross. Daisy yapped about some reality show while Trevor was inside banging out the bottom of Lori like she was a new set of drums. Whatever Daisy said, she evidently found hilarious because that hyena laugh pierced my ears. I was tempted to slam my face right into the grill and close the lid, but instead, I cringed away, slamming back the last of my fourth beer. The laugh finished off with that damn snort and then she scooted closer to me, pushing her tits out and scraping her teeth over her slut-red lips.
“You know,” she said, trailing her finger over my arm. “I get a lot of likes on those videos I upload of you singing.”
“Hmm.” I tossed my beer can to the ground and leaned over to grab another beer from the cooler. I didn’t want another one. I didn’t need another one, I just wanted her hand off of me.
“You’ve got such a pretty voice, Noah.”
I popped the tab, leaned over my knees, and took a big gulp.
“Super pretty.” She sighed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw you on the CMAs one day.”
I laughed into my beer. “Yeah, that’s doubtful.”
“Oh, come on, you sound better than half those singers on the radio, not to mention”—her hand was back on me, rubbing over my chest—“you’re much better looking.” I just took another sip of beer and stared at the beetle crawling across the grass. “Want to go inside?”
As annoying as she was, Daisy was a good-looking girl. Had that been two weeks prior, I probably would have already had her naked, but there was a nagging feeling twisting my gut. I didn’t want that girl, and more importantly, the one I did want, deserved better than this.
Before I could tell her no, my phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out.
“Bad Reputation” by Shawn Mendes. Your theme song? LOL.
I knew there was a stupid grin plastered on my face, and Daisy noticed it too. Her gaze strayed to my phone and she tilted her head before slowly taking it from my hand and leaning into me. “Is that…Hannah…Blake?” Her nose wrinkled like a little rat. “See,” she whispered close to my ear. “All the girls want you.” Her lips pressed against my throat and I exhaled. “Even the virgins.”
The what? “What?” I ask, grabbing my phone from her hand.
“She’s a preacher’s daughter.” She laughed.
“And?”
She rolled her eyes so hard her lashes fluttered. “Oh, come on, No-No, you know girls like that aren’t any good for you.” My face heated. “You need a girl that will”—she kissed my throat again, her hand pawing at my thigh—“give you what you need.”
I ducked away from Daisy and pushed to my feet just as Trevor came jogging down the stairs, no shoes, no shirt, his pants halfway down his thighs.
“What the…”
“Come on, Noah!” he shouted, storming around the corner of the house.
Lori came running through the back door, hurling his shoes over the porch railing. “You’re an asshole, Trevor Davis.” Her voice strained. “An asshole.”
I didn’t wave goodbye; I just followed Trevor to his car, glad to be getting the hell out of there. Swearing under his breath, he yanked the door open and climbed in. He slammed it shut so hard the car rocked.
“What was that about?” I buckle my seatbelt when the engine fired up.
“She saw some text Joanne sent me and went off the rails nuts. She slapped me. Threw a lamp and a figurine of Jesus at me.” He slammed the car into reverse and floored it. The tires squealed over the pavement, fishtailing before we turned onto the highway.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “What the hell kinda text was it?”
“Just a titty picture.” He groaned. “Lori started screaming some bullshit about me cheating on her.”
“You weren’t seeing her though…”
“Hell no. I don’t see girls. I fuck ‘em.” He shifted gears, his jaw tensing. “I swear, you sleep with a girl more than once and they think there’s something to it.”
I nodded. “Man, you should know better than that by now. You have to lay out the rules. Call them your friend every time you get a chance. We’ve been through this.” We had been through that more times than I wanted to count. Guys and girls expect different things. And no matter how many times you have the conversation with a girl that it’s just for fun, that it won’t turn into anything serious—no matter how many times they agree they are on the same page, no strings attached… you get burned. You do something or say something that makes them think it’s going in the direction of a relationship and the next thing you know, you have the reputation of a grade A certified manwhore.
“I’m sticking to one-night stands from now on,” Trevor said.
“Well, I’d say you’re about to hit a dry spell because I’m pretty sure you’ve been through all of Coosa county already,” I said, pulling my phone out and sending Hannah a text.
“Bad Reputation”? Sounds about right. I’ll have to check it out.
18
Hannah
The waiting room doors to the hospital slid open, the cool, medicinal scented air from inside hitting me when I walked in.
Out of the ten patient rooms, only one door was closed. The ER was eerily slow that day, which gave me little to do but think. Daddy had mentioned that morning that we needed to look into burial arrangements, so when the time came, it wasn’t so much on us. I snapped and accused him of giving up. So, I sat there for half my shift trying to ignore the guilt, trying to convince myself there was no need to make arrangements. My mind was on a crash course with disaster when Dr. Roberts handed me the paperwork he’d just signed off on. “How’s your mother?” he asked.
“Good.” I tore the pink copy off, slipping it into the patient file. “She’s good.”
“You know, they have a clinical trial up at University Hospital I’ve heard promising things about. You should see about enrolling her in one.”
I forced a weak smile. “I’ve messaged the project coordinator.” Maybe he was right? We’re looking into clinical trials. Studies… we’re that desperate that we’re going down the path of the unknown.
He placed his hand on my shoulder. “You’ll get through this. You’re strong.” And then he disappeared into one of the patient rooms.
Meg slipped up behind me. “Dr. Roberts’ touchy-feely much?” she laughed.
“He’s fine.”
“So, spill.” Meg propped her hip against the counter. “What happened last night?” She eyed me up and down with a slight smirk on her pink lips, and I welcomed the distraction.
“Nothing.”
“Uh-huh.” She rounded the counter and flopped down in one of the rolling chairs, pushing it across the floor like a seven-year-old. “I’m your best friend. Don’t lie to me.” She rolled back past.
“I’m not. Nothing happened.”
She caught herself on an IV pole and spun the chair around. “Not even a kiss?”
“No, not even a kiss.”
“Ohhh…” she shook a finger at me. “He’s good. Very good. Gotta hand it to him.”
“What are you talking about?”
&nbs
p; “The no kiss thing is a mark of the ultimate player. He’s already figured you out.”
“Uh-huh.” I leaned over the keyboard, pulled Ms. Smith’s name up on the screen, and hit print.
“He knows he has to take it slow. Throw some pretty lines at you… make you feel special.”
I grabbed the labels from the printer.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me!”
“You’re ridiculous,” I said on my way to grab test tubes from the supply closet. But what if she’s not? What if he is just as bad and as good as she says? Oh my God, what does it even matter? It mattered because I wanted to matter to him.
When I stepped out of the supply closet, her glitter-peach nails were furiously tapping away at her phone. Her cheeks pink. Groaning, she tossed the phone onto the counter. “Why am I so hung up on a dick?”
“When have you not been hung up on a dick?” I peeled one of the labels off and wrapped it around the tube.
“No, I don’t mean physically hung up on a penis, I mean hung up on Trevor.”
I arched a brow and grabbed a lancet from the cabinet. “So, you admit it?”
“Yeah, yeah. There’s just something about a guy you can’t have. I swear.”
Or a guy you’re told you shouldn’t have… “Yeah,” I sighed, shoving open the door to Ms. Smith’s room. “I guess there is.”
______
It was nearly midnight by the time I stepped into the silent house. The soft, blue glow of the TV crept from underneath Bo’s door, casting strange shadows on the wall as I tiptoed up to the second floor.
After I brushed my teeth and washed my face, I went to my room and stripped out of my scrubs before tossing my retainer in. Yawning, I slipped into a worn Nirvana t-shirt and sleep shorts and climbed under the covers, closing my eyes the second my head hit the pillow.
Tap. I was in that weird, mostly-asleep-kind-of-awake state. Tap. Tap. My eyes popped open. Tap. Tap. Tap. I sat straight up in bed, clutching the covers to my chest as I listened to the rapping at my window. The wind wasn’t blowing, so I knew it wasn’t a branch. Maybe a beetle? I slowly crawled out of bed, keeping my back to the wall as I snuck toward the window. I was a good three feet away from the glass when I reached for the curtain and yanked it back. It was one of those moments where I wanted to scream but couldn’t, because there was a person in the tree. I staggered back, my pulse going ninety to nothing before I realized the person sitting in the tree was Noah. Of course it was. The adrenaline flooding my system immediately shut off, and the jittery aftermath that tends to follow a sudden scare washed over me. Exhaling, I grabbed onto the windowsill, dropped my chin to my chest, and tried to collect myself before I looked back out the window. There was just enough moonlight that I could see Noah grinning like an idiot. Like a really sexy idiot. The latch clicked when I unlocked the window. The springs groaned when I pushed the worn wooden frame up.
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