by James, Clare
“I need a novel for my lit class,” I add.
“Of course, Tabby.” I can hear the hope ring in Dad’s voice at the mention of literature. It doesn’t get much better for him. “You don’t have to ask, just take what you need,” he says with a smile.
The book search turns out to be a great distraction. From Noah. From Jenna. From everything. Caught up in the shelves, I spend hours combing Dad and Amy’s stacks. I feel at home in the warm room outlined in mahogany bookshelves, flanked by two windows on each wall. The ceiling, framed in the same mahogany molding, creates a cozy nook that’s flooded with memories from all my visits growing up. All of the times I spread my books over the red and orange tapestry rug—now faded from the sun—as I did my homework over Christmas break. Or put puzzles together with my dad. On the shelf, I find one of Amy’s paperbacks: Life of Pi. I snuggle into the leather club chair and close my eyes to take a short break before diving into a story about survival and loss of innocence—which couldn’t be more perfect.
When I open my eyes, I’m still curled up on Dad’s chair. I wipe away the sleep from my eyes and watch the sun come up through the leaded glass window. I slept through the night. Amazing.
Despite my achy neck from sleeping on a chair, I feel rested and almost ready to face another day.
On my way out, I run into Dad.
“Late night cramming?” he asks.
“Yeah, I can’t believe I fell asleep. I better get home so I’m not late for class.”
“Honey,” Dad starts. Nothing good ever comes out of his mouth after he calls me honey.
“Before you go, your Mom called and wants to know why you haven’t gotten back to her. Did you get her emails?”
“Oh, yeah,” I squirm. “I’ve just been busy, I haven’t had a chance to get back to her yet. I’ll do it today.”
“Good,” he says, but somehow I know he’s not done.
“I talked to her for a bit and she wants us all to spend Thanksgiving together.”
I groan.
Dad pushes down a smirk before he says he thinks it’s a good idea.
I sigh and pretend I didn’t hear that last part. He won’t like my response, so I simply grab my book and head to campus.
Chapter 18
The next day, Noah starts in on me, listing all the reasons we should work together. I don’t give in and choose Life of Pi for my next assignment.
Noah doesn’t give in either.
He tries talking to me whenever he can during class and I blow him off. At the paper, we’re always surrounded by people, so it’s easy to keep my distance.
But after a few weeks, he breaks me down.
“It’s time to choose another novel,” Noah greets me at class waving his latest selection. “So, what do you say, Kelly?”
I plop in my seat and pretend I don’t hear him, but his words sing in my head. Kelly. Kelly. I can feel some of the tension leaving my face. Nobody has called me by my last name since…
“It’s not polite to ignore your friends, Kelly.” Noah feigns a sigh and taps his book on my head.
“Oh, really?” I turn and rest an arm on his desk. “We’re friends again?”
“We will be,” he says, tracing a finger from my elbow to my pinkie. A motion that makes my insides sing.
“After you let me explain,” he adds.
I nod, signaling him to go on.
“What I said at the bar that night.” His cheeks flush a deep shade of pink. “I didn’t mean to insult you, Tabby. Actually, I wasn’t thinking that at all. I was hurt and jealous and I guess that made me lash out. I told you I wanted to be with you and you told me you couldn’t do that.
"You said you don’t do relationships. But then I see you with Foster and with your brother—though I obviously didn’t know he was your brother at the time—and I didn’t understand. I thought you were rejecting me and I kept wondering why would you only reject me. What’s wrong with me?”
My heart hurts at his words. I’ve felt that same thing so many times.
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Noah,” I say. “It’s me. It’s all me.”
“After your little speech, I realized what an idiot I was.” He looks over and gives me the most mischievous grin. “Well, it was awhile after. At first, I was just incredibly turned on. You are so sexy when you’re mad.” He chuckles and I feel it low in my belly.
“Nice,” I say, though I’m secretly thrilled I have that effect on him. “This is your apology?”
“Just keeping it real, Tab.”
I can’t help the little smile that creeps across my face. Noah makes me feel normal and it feels so good, even though I know I don’t deserve it.
“So how about it?” he asks.
“How about what?”
He extends his arm. “Partner?”
Truthfully, I think I’d do better with his help. The last essay nearly killed me. I have to keep my grades up and I’m not sure I can do it alone. And I do believe he wasn’t trying to insult me at the bar, and maybe he didn’t take Jenna’s side over mine in those first weeks. Maybe I’m too sensitive, or maybe I’ve simply forgotten how normal people behave.
I extend my hand and he grips it before I have a chance to change my mind. The warmth now settles in my core.
Instinctively, I jerk my hand away.
“Don’t worry, Tabitha. I won’t bite.” He flashes a dimple and I melt a little more.
Professor Sands interrupts to gives us our next assignment and I’m thankful. Things were getting a little too hot with Noah.
“I want you to read something you read when you were younger—from junior high or high school,” he says. “But this time, read it with new eyes. Discover something new about the novel, or the author, and present it to the class in your groups of two.”
So far, so good.
Then he adds, “You have just under two weeks.”
The moans from the students bring an evil sneer that stretches across Sands’ face. It’s the reaction he’s looking for, but it is short lived. Everyone gets right to work.
I flip around to sit backwards in my chair, partnering up with Noah. He doesn’t look up from the several typed pages fanned across his desk. There is a title in bold print, a byline, and numbers in the margins. He holds up a finger and continues counting to himself, finishing by scratching another number next to the last paragraph.
“Sorry, no computer handy so I’m getting a word count the old-fashioned way. I have to file this story today, which reminds me. What do you think about writing a story?”
“For the paper?” I scoff.
“Yes, I think you’d be great.”
“What?” I wrinkle my nose. “Have you seen me with people, Noah?”
“Not really, but you’re inquisitive, bright, and well-read. I think you’d be great.”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” I say. “I’m more of a behind-the-scenes gal.”
“But it begs the question, Ms. Kelly. Why do you like to hide behind the scenes?”
I can almost hear the wheels turning in his head. He’s intrigued.
“Are you someone I should recognize? A famous paparazzi target? And where did you go to school before the move to sunny Minneapolis?”
“Whoa, I can see why you’ve won all of those awards.” He’s on a roll and I don’t think there’s any stopping him as the questions continue to slide off his tongue.
“I know, I’m pushy. But seriously Tabby, where are you from, and why did you move here?”
I’m amazed how easy it is to actually have a conversation with him, when he’s not defending Jenna. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed talking, and how lonely I’ve been.
I answer him without a second thought. Luckily, I’ve practiced this very response in the mirror many times. “My mom and stepdad live in a suburb outside of Chicago,” I tell him. “That’s where I went to high school and I stayed in state for college. But, as you know, my dad lives here. I needed a change, so I decided to
finish off school in the Twin Cities.”
He waits a beat, appearing to be satisfied with my answers.
Nailed it. My practice paid off.
“For what it’s worth, Tabby, I’m glad you’re here.”
“Thanks,” I tell him. Still, I can’t help but wonder what he would think if he knew the real reason.
I find myself hoping it wouldn’t matter.
Chapter 19
Noah ends our session of twenty questions and as the class concludes, Jenna pulls him into a corner.
I don’t like it.
Giving Noah a quick wave, I head outside. The sun is on a rapid descent, hovering behind the trees, illuminating the last of the maple leaves in a bright gold. The warm glow is deceiving and the bitter air startles me when it hits my face and makes my eyes water. I crave solitude now more than ever, so I pick up speed.
“Tabby,” a deep voice bellows, fighting through the wind. “Wait up.” I don’t have to turn around to know who it is.
I want to pretend that I didn’t hear him and continue on my way home. I’m close now. So close. But I can’t bring myself to turn away from his voice. When he’s near this time, I don’t feel those waves of warmth, instead I’m cold. The air and my nerves have me in shivers.
“Oh, hi, Noah,” I stutter.
“Jesus, where’s the fire, Tabby?”
“Just anxious to be done with class, I guess,” I say, rubbing my arms.
“Were you in track in Chicago? I’ve been trying to catch up ever since you bolted out the door.”
“You have to move fast just to stay warm. It’s cold out here.”
“Well, we’ll have to thicken up your blood if you’re going to survive the winter.” He peels off his North Face and drapes it over my shoulders.
“Hey, I’m from Chicago,” I rebut. “It’s cold there too, you know.”
“Right.” He laughs. “The Windy City has nothing on us. Just wait.”
He starts to say something else but is interrupted.
“Hey, Adler,” a loud voice calls out. It belongs to a skinny guy with long black hair that covers half his face. He’s walking with a crew of larger guys substantially pierced and inked.
Noah acknowledges them with a nod.
“When are you going to stop being such a pussy and come party with us?” the skinny guys continues. “Toby’s house is vacant this weekend. Dude, it’s going to be epic.”
“Classy, aren’t they,” Noah whispers to me. Then he yells back, “I’m buried this weekend. Maybe next time.”
The guy stares for a long moment but doesn’t answer. He keeps moving and is soon swallowed in the canopy of trees that line the sidewalk.
“Hey, I was thinking,” Noah says. “We’re going to need to meet to get our presentation ready.”
“You don’t think we can get it done in class?” I ask. “He did leave time for it in the schedule.”
“Yeah, but not enough to get the grade we want.” Then he swings his arm over my shoulders, giving me a quick, friendly squeeze that almost knocks me over. “So you know what that means?”
“Hmm?”
“Homework, baby.”
“You’re probably right,” I agree, trying to mask my jitters. “I got a B on the last essay, and I’m not happy about it. English Lit has always been one of my better subjects.”
What I can’t tell Noah is that it’s my total head case behavior making school so difficult for me. Just trying to concentrate in class is exhausting and walking on campus puts me completely on edge. It’s all I can do to get through the day.
“When do you want to start?” I ask.
“No time like the present. I live two blocks that way,” he says, pointing behind us.
I’m confused and a little flattered he’s walked all this extra way. I know it shouldn’t matter to me. I shouldn’t let it matter. Yet it does.
Without censoring, I blurt, “What about Jenna?” It comes out with a bite rather than the casual curiosity I would have faked if I actually thought before I spoke.
“Jenna?” He purses his lips and I wonder if they’re still soft and minty.
“Yeah, Jenna. I can’t help but notice in class it seems like there’s something going on there.”
Oh God, I’m sounding like a complete stalker here. Why does he always make me say too much?
“Jenna’s not my girlfriend, Tabby. I’m not involved with anyone. I asked you out, remember?”
“Well, that was a while ago,” I say. “I’m sorry for mentioning her, it’s none of my business.”
But please go on.
“It’s okay. I’ve been friends with Jenna forever. We dated freshman year, but it was disastrous. She’s going through a hard time. You’ve probably noticed me hanging around her a lot. I want to help her, but she doesn’t want my help. I’m trying to give her space unless she really needs me.”
“Hmmm. You really are one of the good ones, aren’t you?” Again the censor from my brain to my lips is apparently off for the day.
“Not as good as you might think.” He grins. “So what do you say? Study time at my house?”
“I’m sorry but I can’t. I really need to get to my dad’s.”
“Professor Kelly has you on a tight leash doesn’t he?” he questions.
“Well, he can’t help it. I went through some pretty heavy stuff last year.”
Shut up, Tabby. Shut your mouth. I’m begging now. Noah should work at New Beginnings; none of the counselors were ever able to pry anything out of me.
He stops walking. “I don’t want to be nosy or butt in too much, but whatever it was that happened last year, is that why you keep to yourself so much? And the reason for your ‘no dating’ rule?”
“The way I look at it is I only have two years left of college. I just want to get it over with, I don’t need the fanfare: the BFFs, or boyfriends, or parties. All I need is good grades. I’ll have the rest of it when I’m out on my own.”
“That’s well and good, Tabby.” Noah’s quiet, thoughtful. “But sometimes you need someone or something. Don’t miss out on that because you’re too busy focusing on where you’re going. Sometimes all we have is right here, right now.”
“Well, that’s deep.” I try to fight back my laughter. If he only knew how little any of this really matters.
I can tell he senses my sarcasm but that doesn’t deter him. “Let’s just say, I’ve went through some heavy stuff too,” he says with a knowing smile.
I pull off his coat and try to hand it to him, but he’s already gone.
On a cloud, I float all the way home. It shouldn’t matter to me that Noah doesn’t have a girlfriend or that he’s not involved with Jenna, I know that. It can’t matter. But it does, and I feel a little hope leaking in.
Chapter 20
I’m asleep when I hear a knock on the door. It’s not the recurrent five taps I’m used to. It’s two commanding pounds that jolt me from bed.
Too tired to grab my robe, I open the door before realizing I’m only wearing a tank and boy shorts.
“Noah?” I say, surprised he’s here.
He’s wearing my favorite jeans with a thin gray t-shirt. Leaning on his arm in the doorway, his eyes are dark and hooded as he looks me over.
“I can’t do this, Tabby,” he says, running his hands through his hair. He looks like he’s been up all night, and I can smell whiskey on his breath.
“Are you okay?” I ask him, running my hand along his cheek.
He closes the space between us in one long glide and rests his forehead on mine. “I can’t pretend anymore.”
Unsure where I’ve found the courage, I link my hands around his neck and whisper a dare in his ear. “Then don’t.”
Noah slams the door and whips me around, pushing me against it as his body claims mine. I can feel his need, his desperation. His lips are rough as he nips and bites at my mouth before gliding his tongue inside. Taking control, his hands cup my ass and he quickly lifts me to hi
m.
This is too much. Too fast.
My mind reels, but my body reacts. My legs instinctually wrap around his waist, my hands fist in his hair, and my tongue moves with his.
Pushing me harder against the door for balance, Noah gathers my hands, raises them above my head and secures my wrists in his grip.
I am completely vulnerable, trapped.
“It’s okay, Tabby,” Noah whispers in my ear. “You can stop me at any time.”
That’s exactly what I want to do, but my body won’t let me.
And before I get the chance to say a word, he slides my boy shorts to the side and plunges a finger deep inside me.
I wake up in a confused and convulsing mess after my afternoon nap. My heart is slamming against my chest, my breathing is ragged, and my hands are shaking. I reach for a glass of water on my bedside table and see the clock announcing it’s six p.m. It does nothing for my erratic state.
I’m late.
Again.
Too many lady wet dreams about Noah will do that to a gal.
It’s the third one I’ve had this week. Not that I’m complaining. Waking up post-orgasm is a wonderful thing. Still, it’s starting to mess with my schedule…and my mind. Noah is slowly worming his way into my head and it’s becoming more than just a physical attraction. I enjoy our talks almost as much as these sex dreams.
I change out of my sweats, slip into a pair of jeans and sweater, braid my hair, brush my teeth, and I’m out the door to the paper in less than ten minutes.
On the walk to campus, my stomach growls. I’m ravenous and there’s no way I’ll be able to work without some fuel, so I pick up a deli sandwich on the way.
Inside the paper’s office, it’s quiet. Everyone has gone for the day. It’s nice. I set up my little desk picnic at one of the computer tables, ready to do a final proof of the filed stories.
I spend the next hour hauling ass to get the articles loaded for tomorrow’s e-edition, I don’t even have time to eat.