Impossible Love, The Complete Before You Go Series

by James, Clare

  I had a hard time comprehending his words. I couldn’t follow. It was the most I had to think in months. The most I had to feel. I focused on breathing and worked through the pain.

  It hurt.

  It hurt so bad I was sure I wouldn’t make the drive.

  Dad jumped into the driver’s seat and pulled out of the parking lot.

  And I threw up.

  Chapter 33

  Today’s calendar says Thanksgiving is only five days away, which means the visit from my mother is only five days away. More importantly, it means I have to spend five days without Noah.

  He left to Pennsylvania to spend time with his older brother—no doubt an important priority after watching Jenna lose hers.

  Noah and I have spent almost every free moment together over the past two weeks. We have yet to make it to the final phase of our sensate focus experiment, but we’ve pretty much mastered phase two, and I feel closer to him than I have ever felt with anyone.

  We plan to continue our experiments when he returns. My body tingles at the thought. More than anything, I want to get my hands on him and give him the same pleasure he’s given me. I never knew it could feel this way or be so consuming—I can’t get his gorgeous face or that perfectly toned body out of my mind. The way his strong hands feel on my skin, or the way his mouth makes my body ache …

  I’ve got to get ahold of myself, Noah’s turning me into a sex-craved psycho and we haven’t even done it yet.

  Thankfully, there’s still a lot to do before the holiday to keep my mind busy. Less than a week away, I need to help Amy shop, try to drop a few pounds, and OMG, look at my rat’s nest. My mom would lose her shit if she knew about my lack of personal grooming since I moved away.

  Instead of using the flatiron, I slick all my hair back into a ponytail, and then immediately schedule a hair appointment. The kind receptionist is able to get me in this afternoon.

  The salon, a recommendation from Amy, is only a few blocks away, so I walk to my appointment. The place is easy to find. In front of the door is a purple awning with the word Foiled splashed across it in faux graffiti.

  I step inside to the familiar smells of shampoo and hair chemicals, and check in at the desk. The salon is small, with only four chairs, but it is packed and alive with the most eclectic group of people I’ve ever seen in one place. Rita, a twenty-something pierced goddess, shows me to the second chair. On my right, a grandma is having her weekly shampoo and style, and on my left is a girl getting a dye job to match her fuchsia eye shadow. I can’t see who is in the last seat because four waify guys are huddled around the chair that seems to be the source of the stream of profanity ringing in my ears. Apparently it’s a guy having something waxed.

  “So, chica,” Rita says, digging her fingers into my hair. “What are we doing today?”

  “Well,” I start talking to Rita’s reflection in the framed mirror. “It needs to be cleaned up for sure. Maybe take it up an inch and do a conditioning treatment. And an eyebrow wax?”

  “Can do, hon,” she says and proceeds to pile a load of trashy magazines on my lap. “Quality reading here. Enjoy.”

  I do.

  On the way home, I stop by a little boutique. I want to pick up something nice to wear for the holiday. Mom will notice. It’s been so long since we’ve really gotten along, I just want it to be normal between us. If I can look and act like I’m getting better, maybe we’ll be better.

  I settle on a pale blue sweater. Mom’s favorite color.

  ***

  Over the next five days, I’m incredibly lonely. Not only is Noah gone, but Jules is in homework hell. To pass the time, I work out like a mad woman and mess with my hair—and everything at Dad and Amy’s house—to make sure it’s perfect for my mom.

  I spend Thanksgiving Eve at Dad’s, and by the time the big day arrives, I’m feeling pretty good. My phone goes off at nine a.m. and I’m still in bed. My bed is so warm, I hate to leave it, but it could be Noah so I snap to it, throw a sweatshirt over my pjs, and pick up my phone on the dresser by the third ring.

  “Hello,” I answer before clearing my throat.

  “Whoa, lady, settle down. It’s just me.”

  Jules.

  “No need to go all sultry and sexy on me so early in the a.m.” She giggles. “You thought it was Noah, didn’t you, you little minx?”

  My body shakes in laughter; I have to admit she’s pretty cute. “Boy, we sure are spunky this morning.”

  “But of course. I’m getting ready for precious family time. Not to mention, I get my eat-on in just a few hours. What about you? What time does Mommy Dearest arrive? Dum, dum, dummmmmm.”

  “Noon, I guess. I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

  “Well, keep me updated. If you need anything, call. Moral support, a kick in the ass, you name it. I’m your girl. Plus, I’ll need the reprieve.”

  “Will do.”

  “Okay, I’m off. Aunt Bee will be here shortly with her three perfect children. Can’t wait. Good luck today.”

  “You, too. Happy Thanksgiving, Jules.”

  “Gobble, gobble,” she clucks before hanging up.

  Her pep talk works and I’m in good spirits when I head toward the shower. After my little workout session last night, I smell something fierce. The phone rings again before I make it to my bathroom so I backpedal.

  I’m sure Jules just forgot a parting smart-ass comment.

  “Yeeessss,” I answer in a low voice.

  “Tabitha?”

  Oh God. It’s Mom.

  “Mom?”

  “Oh honey, I have some bad news.”

  “What?” My stomach drops and my brain goes into the “who’s died” mode.

  “We can’t make it out today. Stephen has been called into an early board meeting first thing tomorrow, and there’s no way we can make it there and back in twenty-four hours without killing ourselves.”

  Silence.

  “Honey?”

  While I try to process what she’s just told me, I end up having a rather steaming conversation with her in my head. It goes something like this:

  Me: Yes, heaven forbid you get less than eight hours of sleep, or come by yourself to visit your only daughter, who by the way, you haven’t seen in months.

  Mom: Oh honey, come on now, let’s not be so melodramatic. You know I’d be there if I could.

  Me: No. No, Mom, I really don’t.

  Mom: Tabitha!

  Back in the real world, the convo is more like this:

  “Okay, Mom.” I pretend to be totally uninterested.

  “Will you give my apologies to your father and Amy?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Then I only half-listen when she goes on about Stephen’s business, important work, and bad timing. She moves on and mentions we’ll have to do Christmas, like she’s talking to one of her friends—the other desperate housewives. They’re always doing something. Let’s do lunch, or do brunch, or do coffee.

  I say it’s time to do some parenting? How ’bout that?

  I know I was dreading her visit, but I guess part of me really wanted to see her. In some strange way, I was happy she was coming all the way to see me. In some way, I miss her. Terribly.

  I’m not sure how long I stand in the hallway. I’m frozen, staring into space until Amy comes up.

  “Tabby,” she commands. “Tabby? What is it?” Her eyes furrow. Now she’s going into the “who’s died” mode.

  “Oh nothing,” I start to shake it off. “It was Mom. She can’t make it. Something about Stephen’s work, blah, blah, blah.”

  “Goddammit,” Amy spits.

  I walk toward the shower, but Amy stops me. She pulls me into a hug and gives me no choice but to take it. She knows there’s more behind my words. She. Just. Knows.

  I let myself go in her arms and hang on.

  And despite everything, Amy makes sure the three of us have a nice Thanksgiving. We really do. I couldn’t ask for better parents than he
r and my dad.

  Still, when I get to my apartment, I throw my new sweater into the trash.

  Chapter 34

  The next morning, I vow not to let Mom bring me down. Instead, I put on my leggings, sports bra, and wrap under my jacket. I eat half a granola bar for energy and grab my bag of slippers and iPod before heading out to the Center for the Arts. I’ve decided that just because I’m not studying dance anymore doesn’t mean I have to become a lazy pile. Plus, on the off chance I want to go to tryouts next month, I need to get myself in serious shape. The little workouts in my living room are not enough.

  I find an open room at the center and easily fall into a groove. I listen to my music and focus on my breathing at the barre. A real ballet barre. I haven’t had the privilege of working out on one of these babies for months. I want to kiss it.

  After warm up, I start with chaines turns across the floor. I stumble at first, but quickly recover. I keep moving, listening to my music, and focusing on spotting as I move. Soon I’m gliding around the entire space.

  How I’ve missed it.

  ***

  By the end of the long Thanksgiving weekend, my stamina improves. I can already notice the pep in my step—I have more energy and I’m sleeping better. I’ve even been able to blow off Mom’s emails without getting all weepy. I’m totally committed to my new morning routine, and by the time I have to go back to class, I jump out of bed actually excited to hit the floor.

  Today, though, I don’t focus on the music or my breathing. I focus on my English Lit presentation I have to give with Noah today. How will I concentrate on class when I haven’t seen him—or touched him, or tasted him—since before the holiday? Obviously, we’ve talked a few times and shared a few inappropriate texts, but who knows if I’ll be able to control myself when I see him. His flight doesn’t get in until late this morning, but he promised he’d be back in time.

  At class, I wait patiently, watching the door. Noah is the last to walk in. He smiles and hurries over. Once he gets to my desk, he gives me a little squeeze on the shoulder and whispers in my ear, “You’re going to be great, don’t worry.”

  I’m so grateful he keeps his comments focused on our project, because I don’t think I could handle it if he said much more.

  Noah gets up and gives me a little shove. We stand before the class. My mouth waters and I keep swallowing like I’m chugging a nonexistent post-rehearsal Gatorade. Noah looks over, gives me a wink, and launches into his spiel.

  “My first time reading this book, I totally agreed with the protagonist, Bryon,” Noah says after giving a short synopsis of the novel. “I thought he was justified in what he did, but after reading it again…okay, for like the tenth time to tell the truth, I’m not sure.”

  We swap the spotlight. Back and forth. We make points about what we learned from the novel. We talk about the part drugs played in the story, as well as economics and gang violence. We discuss how a big piece of the book is about taking responsibility for your actions and making hard choices. After about four minutes, it's time for my big finish.

  Noah gives me a nod.

  “In the end, after reading this book again, our reactions were so different than they were the first time,” I say without stumbling over my words. Big surprise. “We think that, maybe, we were both a little cold to these characters the first time around. It was black and white. What Mark did was wrong; he was selling drugs and may have been responsible for ruining a little kid’s life. He deserved what he got. But after we read the story again, we could sympathize with Mark. And because we’ve grown up a little more since the first time read it, we now realize that things aren’t always black and white. Sometimes there’s not the right choice, there’s just a better choice. For each person.”

  Of course by the end of my spiel, I’m not sure I’m talking about the book anymore.

  Professor Sands nods at both of us, stands, and claps.

  The weight has lifted from my shoulders and I’m almost giddy. After class, I wait for Noah. I’m dying to get him back to my apartment where I can have him all to myself, but he has to stop at the paper first.

  His hand slides in mine as he gives me a wicked grin. “Before we go, I need to ask you something.”

  I look back and see something devilish in his eyes.

  I’m so in trouble.

  Chapter 35

  After our presentation, Noah tells me he thinks it’s time we move on with our experiment. And before I know it, he’s scheduled it for tonight.

  At seven p.m., we begin Stage Four.

  S.E.X.

  As the clock ticks toward seven, I get more nervous with each passing second. I spend those ticking seconds going through my pathetic wardrobe and trying on a few outfits before settling on jeans and a blue sweater—the one Jules dug out of the garbage. The one I bought to impress Mom but threw out to make myself feel better after she ruined our Thanksgiving. Hope it’s not covered in bad juju.

  There’s a knock on the door at exactly seven.

  When I open it, Noah sweeps me up in his arms. “God, I’ve missed you,” he whispers in my ear.

  “You have no idea.” I take his bottom lip in mine, no longer able to contain myself.

  After I attack his mouth, and Noah indulges, he pulls back. “I’m sorry your mom didn’t show for Thanksgiving.” He kisses my forehead.

  “It’s okay, not that big of a surprise.”

  I know Noah wants me to open up to him about this, but I don’t want my mother to ruin this moment.

  “We still had a nice time,” I tell him. “But I missed you so much. I don’t want to waste another second. Let’s get started. Where do you want me?”

  Noah holds me by the waist. “Baby, I want nothing more than to get my hands on you. But I’ve been thinking. I want to stop the experiments. Let’s let this happen naturally. When I make love to you the first time I want to know it’s because you want to, not because of a stupid experiment.”

  “It’s not stupid,” I say a little put off. “This has helped me more than you’ll ever know. To be able to be with you this way. To trust you with my body, my heart. I never thought I’d have this again. It means everything to me.”

  “Me, too.” Noah swallows and pulls his eyebrows together. “I want to give you everything, Tabby. I want to take you out, feed you, romance you. I want you to have it all.”

  “So, you’re saying you want to date?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Sure, I can do normal.” I laugh. “At least for a night.”

  Noah’s face lights up at that, brighter than I’ve ever seen it.

  And within five minutes, we’re on a date. Driving downtown, Noah maneuvers along the one-ways like a pro. We park at the library and he slings a backpack over his shoulder and takes my hand, leading me to Nicollet Mall—though it’s not really a mall, it’s a mile-long pedestrian thoroughfare flanked by stores and restaurants. Dad used to take me shopping here when I was a kid, and of course, to the parade. That’s right, the Christmas parade. I remember watching it from Dad’s shoulders when I was little. Then he’d take me for a fancy hot cocoa at this cool art deco restaurant. It was one of the best things about Christmas.

  Noah scouts out the perfect spot and pulls a blanket out of his backpack.

  Yay! We’re staying for the parade.

  I can’t hide my smile. This is perfection.

  Noah lays the blanket on the sidewalk and pulls out another to cover us after we sit. Then he takes out a thermos of hot cocoa and Christmas cookies—or should I say Hanukkah cookies? They’re in the shapes of the Star of David, menorahs, and dreidels, and covered in blue icing.

  Best. Date. Ever.

  High school bands playing holiday tunes march by us, while people covered in Christmas lights dance along the street. They’re dressed up like snowmen and stars and storybook characters. I scream when the Big Bad Wolf jumps out at me fro
m behind a float. Noah laughs and pulls me in tight.

  “See,” he says in my ear. “We’re good at this.”

  “Yeah,” I agree “We are.” I lean into him and the rest of the world falls away.

  Too soon, the last float rolls past us—the one with Santa waving and the elves throwing candy canes—and the parade-goers fight to get to their cars. But Noah and I just sit. We’re in no hurry.

  He wraps his arms around me and I snuggle in.

  We don’t even need the mistletoe.

  Chapter 36

  At my apartment, the nerves start to kick in. But it’s no longer just nerves, it’s excitement and joy and just plain old horniness that this incredibly sexy piece of ass is going to take me to bed in less than five minutes.

  I make preparations with candles and music. Noah is on my heels.

  He reaches for my hands. “I have just one request.”

  “Oh, taking requests are we?” I smile. “I might have a few of my own.”

  “I want you to tell me the moment you feel scared, worried, or uncomfortable,” he says, taking a seat on the bed. “And I want to spend the night.”

  “That’s two requests,” I chirp.

  Okay, maybe it is nerves I’m feeling.

  “The last thing wasn’t a request,” he says. “It’s a demand. I’m not leaving you tonight.” Noah sets his jaw in that bossy way of his. “Now take off your clothes, Tabitha.”

  I don’t even think about it, I just do as he asks.

  “Slower,” he says once I’m standing before him in my lace bra and panties.

  Finally, my sexy underwear gets some play.

  I take a deep breath and move to Noah so he can finish the job—remembering he is not taking control from me. I am giving it to him. I can stop it at any time.

  Noah changes places with me so I’m sitting on the edge of the bed and he’s on his knees in front of me. He kisses my eyelids before unclasping my bra and sliding it off at an excruciating slow pace.