Noah's vest was unbuttoned, his tie loose. Ever the optimist, he ran through the formula three or four times, stopping to laugh at each goof. The student was laughing, too, as Noah playfully grabbed him around the neck and fake-throttled him.
"Mr. Jordan, I can't do this," the boy said finally, folding his lanky body across a plastic chair.
"Yes, you can. I know you can!" Noah insisted, slapping him on his shoulder. "We've got time to figure it out, don't worry."
Emma smiled to herself, and backed away from the door. She walked slowly towards her office, with Noah's words echoing in her head. Yes, you can. I know you can! It was what she loved most about him…his enthusiasm, his support, his kindness.
As she sat down at her desk, she thought back to the night before. She saw Noah's handsome face, his droopy glasses, his shy smile. It was the night he returned from Houston. He'd driven immediately to her house, and she'd opened the door, grabbed his sleeve, and dragged him straight to bed, where they'd made love, and talked, and ate, and laughed, until the wee hours of the night. And after they'd crawled under the bed to retrieve his discarded clothes, and bumped heads as they both reached for wadded-up sock at the same time, and giggled like eight year olds, he leaned over and locked his eyes with hers. His cheeks were still flushed from sex, and his hair fell in damp ringlets across his forehead. “I love you, Emma,” he whispered, and she froze. Her body became rigid as a board, and tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.
"I'm sorry…excuse me," she said in a tight voice, and then she rushed to the bathroom.
The memory of his face, right before she'd ran out of the room, had kept her awake most of the night. Of course, he'd been understanding when she returned from the bathroom. He told her to take her time, even apologized for rushing her. He kissed the top of her head, and got dressed silently. But that look of sadness, confusion, rejection—the memory of it made her stomach churn.
The question is, what are you going to do about these feelings, Emma?
Emma's thoughts were interrupted by the noise of the kids filing out of Noah's classroom. Shouts and laughter, lockers slamming, and then there was silence. She made her way back to his office, her heels clicking sharply in the empty hallway.
Noah was sitting at his desk, his back to the door. He was bent over his computer, typing something.
"Hey," she called from the doorway.
"Hey," he echoed back. He didn't turn to her. As she walked towards him, she could see his shoulders tense up slightly, and her eyes filled with hot tears. She blinked hard, several times, and stopped a few feet away from where he sat.
He finally turned to her with a forced smile. "I'm almost done here, and then we can…" He stopped when he saw her face, her tears.
"Umm…I'm sorry," she whispered, smoothing her skirt front, calming and straightening herself. His eyes grew soft, and he patted the seat of the chair beside him, gesturing her to come sit. She shook her head with a quick frown, standing her ground.
"I want to explain…you know…last night. When you…when I…" Gosh, she couldn't form a sentence. Not even a bad one.
Noah stood and moved towards her, to comfort her, and she stepped back quickly. A sharp sob escaped her lips, and she finally found her voice. "I swear to God, Noah, if you're nice to me right now I will really lose it." She held her palms towards him, keeping him at arms length. His eyebrows rose in surprise, and he stopped in his tracks.
She continued quickly. "I love you," she began, and he stared, silent, waiting for her to finish. "But I'm scared. I've loved you as a friend for so long. And I've failed at a lot of relationships in my life, and the thought of screwing this one up, it just…" She was silent for a moment. "I don't know if I can do it."
Noah closed the space between them and grabbed her hands. "Emma, of course you can do it." . He pulled her towards him, and rested his chin on the top of her head. "Look, neither of us is perfect."
She coughed a little into his shirt, and she could feel him smile.
"But I know we're perfect for each other. I know it. Don't you?" He pulled back to look at her, but her head was pointed at the floor.
"Emma," he pleaded, his voice hoarse with emotion.
She looked up at the sound of her name, and swiped at her tears. "I'm sorry," she said finally. "That was just so corny," she sobbed, burying her face in his shirt again.
Noah laughed and hugged her tight to his chest, rocking her back and forth slightly. He blew soft "shh's" into her hair until her tears stopped, and she lifted her gaze to his.
"Noah." She took a deep breath, and looked into his eyes . "I love you, too. Of course I do."
"Yeah?" he asked.
"Yeah." She nodded, reaching up to kiss him on the cheek.
"I've got this urge to say something nice to you, but I'm afraid you'll clock me." He grinned, wiping the last of her stray tears with his thumbs.
"I think you're safe now."
He leaned down and captured her lips with his. The kiss was soft at first, but soon his mouth opened wider, his tongue hot and sweet against hers. When they broke apart, he swallowed hard. "I can't stop shaking," he whispered against her forehead. "Does that ever happen to you, when you're so happy you can't stop shaking?" He chuckled once. "When I was little, my mom used to call it my 'happy dance'." He shook his head quickly. "It's stupid." .."No." She smiled, leaning in to rest her cheek on his shirt. Her smile widened when she felt his chest quiver under her ear.
Chapter Eight
Emma woke suddenly, disoriented in the dark. Noah's body was curved against her back, his arm draped over her waist. She lifted her head slightly to get a better look at the alarm clock. It was 3:30 am. Why was she awake? Oh yeah, she'd just told her best friend that she loved him, and jumped into a relationship that she would have to leave in two weeks. Nothing to lose any sleep over.
Wide awake now, she lifted Noah's arm gently and scooted towards the edge of the bed. She walked to the bedroom window and sat on the dressing bench underneath the windowsill, rested her chin on her knees as she stared at the street below. Her thoughts were swimming, remembering the night before. She felt her cheeks redden at the memory of their lovemaking—his passion, her abandon, their release...she shivered and hugged her knees to her chest. After a few moments, she looked towards the bed and was surprised to see that Noah was awake, staring at her, his head half-buried in his pillow.
"Oh gosh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered. He didn't speak, just raised his arm towards her, gesturing for her to come lay beside him. She slid off the bench and climbed back into bed, back into his arms. "You okay?" he asked, rubbing her back and kissing her lightly on the neck, behind her ear.
"Hmmm, just thinking." She pushed herself up on her elbow and grabbed his upper arm, rolling him over onto his stomach. "C'mon," she sighed, still feeling guilty for waking him. "How 'bout a good scratch to get you back to sleep?" She reached up to run her fingers through the short curls at the nape of his neck, and he squirmed at her touch. She smiled and began scratching his back in long, lazy strokes, her fingers running up and down the rippled muscles of his back. She found the crevice of his spine, and let her fingers wander down, scratching lightly.
He growled deep in his throat. "Strangely enough, this is not making me sleepy," he said, as he twisted his body around and grabbed her wrists. He pulled both of her arms above her head, and climbed over her body . He leaned down and kissed her, as his hips settled firmly on hers. "God, I can never get enough of you," he moaned into her mouth. "Never. Emma...," he sighed, as she arched her back and rubbed her chest against his, feeling his soft hair tickle her delicate skin.
She pulled her arms free and pushed with her hand until he rolled onto his back. Slowly, her lips began their journey over his chest, stopping first at his nipple, sucking and scraping with her teeth. She moved her attention to the other nipple and he lifted his hands and laced his fingers in her hair, sighing as he steered her slowly down his chest.
He let out a groan that became a moan, as she ran her hands down his sides, stopping at his hips and rubbing her thumbs against his jutting pelvic bones. He lifted his hips towards her instinctively, and she kissed him low, underneath his belly button, and moved her palms down to his knees, and then slowly back up the inside of his thighs.
His sighs and moans had become cries that sounded like "uhnnnn," and the combination of his feel and his scent and his groans made her whimper impatiently.
"Noah, god, oh my god," she gasped, as he slung his forearm across her lower back and rolled her over, latching his lips to her nipple and sucking, hard, his hand reaching down to grab her and grind his hips against her. She was already raw, and a little sore from earlier in the evening, but as he continued to wet her breast with kisses, his soft, throaty grunts vibrating through his lips and over her nipples, she knew she would have him again, that the pain would be welcome.
She ran her hands greedily down his sides, and stopped at his hips, closing her fingers around the shaft of his cock, the way he liked, the way she knew would make him hiss with pleasure. As she guided him between her legs, her hips lunged towards him, a silent plea, and her eyes squeezed shut when his tip hit her wet, swollen folds.
“Emma.” He was poised above her, ready to enter her.
“What?” She was desperate for him. She sunk her fingernails in the flesh of his ass, urging him on.
“Please don't go to London.” His eyes were wide and pleading. He sounded so miserable she could hardly stand it.
“I have to. I'm sorry.” She pulled him to her, kissed his cheek. “I'll miss you. Horribly.” She pulled her knees up against his sides and pushed him harder against her. She might be leaving, but she was damn well going to give him something to remember. He entered her fully, moving in and out with moans of desperation. She met him, thrust for thrust, and soon he was pumping harder, and harder, and then she knew she was going to come, and she couldn't stop, she couldn't hold off to wait for him.
Emma shuddered and gasped in release, letting out a choked sob, then holding her breath as Noah moaned, long and low, and came inside her in hot, heavy spurts that spread warmth deep inside her. After they both caught their breath, he snuggled beside her, slinging his leg over her hip, his heel hooked loosely behind her kneecaps.
Emma let her mind wander, trying to imagine herself in London, going to class, immersing herself in culture and literature. She tried to imagine making new friends, going to pubs with classmates, discovering new restaurants and hangouts. She tried to imagine doing all of it alone...without Noah. It filled her with dread, and shame. This whole trip was supposed to be an exercise in self-growth, a salute to her independence and adventurous spirit. Why was she hesitating now, when she was finally so close?She burrowed her face against Noah's damp chest, and he kissed the top of her head.His touch made her heart ache, and the thought of leaving for London next week felt like a death sentence.
****
Emma watched the shadows from the tree branches outside the window sway gently against the wall. She shifted a bit, pulling the sheet up tighter under her chin, and fluffing her pillow with her fist. She closed her eyes tightly, and felt the familiar burning, dry sensation under her eyelids. She wasn't going to sleep. Again.
The insomnia was slowing driving her insane. For days now, she'd walked around like a zombie, running into walls and nodding off at her desk, only to crawl into bed and stare at the ceiling for hours. It was less than a week until she left for London, and she'd never been more scared. She wondered if she'd ever sleep again.
Emma leaned over and looked at Noah, his breathing deep and even, his face sweet and peaceful. She reached over and touched the pad of his bottom lip gently—a finger kiss—and rolled out of bed quietly, careful not to wake him as she wandered down the hall to the kitchen.
Should she eat or drink anything? Wouldn't that keep her up even longer? She settled for a glass of water, and was walking to the couch with a book under her arm when Noah wandered in from the hall, scratching his stomach under his t-shirt, squinting against the lamplight in the living room.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to bed."
"Mmmm," he mumbled, still in sleep mode. "C'mon," he ordered, taking the book from her and setting it on the coffee table.
"Noah, no…I'll just keep you awake."
He ignored her and grabbed her wrist, pulling her gently down the hall towards the bedroom. She acquiesced, letting him lead her to the bed. He reached down and pulled off her nightgown slowly, then took off his own t-shirt and slipped it over her head. It was warm and soft, and she looked up at him with an appreciative grin as they climbed under the covers. He drew her back against his chest, his feet beneath hers, his breath on her neck.
It was the routine they'd haphazardly developed over the last three nights—snuggled in Noah's shirt, tucked warmly against his bare torso, he would tell her stories, or play silly games until she was relaxed enough to drift off to sleep.
On this night, he began to hum against the skin behind her ear, as she snuggled her head deep in her pillow. His hand rubbed her hip lightly. "What song is that?' she murmured against his arm.
"Hmm…dunno…I think it's from a butter commercial."
She grinned and kissed the inside of his wrist. "Talk to me," she demanded.
"Okay, but not unless you promise to close your eyes. You need to sleep."
She nodded wordlessly, and after a long minute, she felt her muscles loosen and grow slack under his palms.
"Talk," she ordered stubbornly, her voice lower and smoother than before. “Tell me another story about when you were a kid.”
“Why? I was the most boring kid ever.”
"I know, that's why your stories help me go to sleep,” she teased.
“Okay...let's see. When I was little, I was constantly bugging my parents for a baby brother. But it had to be a brother. I don't know what I would have done if they'd brought home a baby girl—probably run screaming, or fit her with lead diapers.”
“Aww, you would have made a great big brother. I can see it now—you guys would play school, and you'd teach him baby calculus.”
"I didn't know calculus when I was four.”
“Baby matrix algebra, then. Toddler differential equations.”
"Are you through?”
“I think so. Go on.”
“So anyway, I was dying for a little brother. I was totally into rockets, NASA, anything to do with space. He would have been my space partner, you see.”
“Hmmm.”
“In my mind, a kid brother was basically a short slave. He would follow me around, do my bidding, and tell me how cool I was.”
“Isn't that what girlfriends are for?”
“Somehow it never works out that way. May I finish my story?”
“Sorry. I'm shutting up.”
“Anyway, I drove my parents crazy with the brother talk, so much that they bought me a puppy for Christmas to shut me up.”
“Oh, a puppy? What kind?”
“He was a Golden Retriever—Max. He became a space dog. A commander, I think, although he could never fly. The whole paws instead of hands thing. It was an issue.”
“I can imagine.”
“So anyway, we had Max until I was in college. He was the best dog, Emma. He used to wait for me at the window after school, and we'd play football—we must have bought him ten thousand Nerf footballs. Then we'd go inside and watch Speed Racer.”
“No doggie algorithms?”
“Max didn't have a mathematical mind. He was more of a doer than a thinker.” They were silent for a moment. Emma felt Noah's hand stoke her side soothingly, from waist to hip. She yawned.
“Did you ever have another dog?”
“No. Max died when I was in college, and then I married Jenny, and she was allergic, so...”
“You should get a dog,” Emma mumbled into her pillow.
“Why? To keep me company after you le
ave?” His voice tightened a bit. He cleared his throat.
“No, I just meant—”
“It's okay. I know what you meant. I'd love a dog, but I'm at work all day, and my place is too small. Plus, dogs can't make up for people you miss. Even though Max was great, I still always wished for a brother. A new dog wouldn't make me miss you less.”
They were quiet then, and soon Emma felt Noah's face snuggle into her neck, heard his breathing grow deep and even. But she never did go back to sleep.
Chapter Nine
Noah took the packing tape and closed another box in Emma's office, as she scrubbed the coffee stains off the top of her desk. The packing and cleaning was suffocating him, the ache in his chest growing sharper with each bookshelf he cleared. She'd leave tomorrow. Tomorrow. It hung over both of them like a dark, heavy cloud of sadness.
“I heard it rains in London all the time,” he murmured, glancing sideways at her.
“I'll take rain over a-hundred-degrees-in-the-shade any day,” she answered back.
“There's no barbecue...no good Tex-Mex. You're willing to go two years without Chuy's enchiladas?”
She shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly. “It'll be tough, but they have great Indian food, and Asian food...I won't starve to death.”
“I read that people who live in England are forty percent more likely to suffer from depression than people in the United States.”
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