by James, Clare
He stares at me for a long time, his eyes flowing over my body. A trail of heat is left in their wake and I feel moisture pooling between my legs.
“You are so beautiful.” Noah wraps his arms around my waist and plants butterfly kisses across my chest.
I stroke the side of his face and take his hands, guiding him on the bed. “So are you,” I whisper. I plunder his mouth so hard I’m sure we’ll both have bruises. I pour my soul into the kiss and hand over my heart.
Truthfully, it’s been his for a long time now.
Noah pulls off his shirt and my hands immediately gravitate to his chest, feeling my way around his amazing body. “There, we’re even again.” He says as he slips off his jeans. "But not for long.”
Once again, he moves between my legs. My mouth is dry with anticipation. I want him. Badly. There is no fear in this moment. Just want. His hands tuck under me, cupping my bottom, and he slowly drags off my panties. His fingers trail behind, sparking fire on my skin.
“God, Tabby.” He bites the inside of my thigh with a groan. “If you could see how fucking sexy you look right now.”
He doesn’t wait for a response and when I look back down all I see is the back of his head between my legs. Then I feel him. His tongue teases me, brushing against my swollen skin. When he flicks it deeper inside, my hips buck up to meet him. I’m no longer in control, but I don’t care. I can’t think of anything other than the throbbing between my legs.
“Noah,” I gasp.
He pushes my legs farther apart and thrusts his tongue deeper inside. His hands travel up my body where he kneads my breast.
I feel…beautiful and adored for maybe the first time in my life.
My hands grip his hair, but his head keeps moving. I slide my hands down to his face, his cheeks, his jaw. I can feel what he’s doing to me and the sensation is indescribable. The ache inside grows with each thrust of his tongue.
“Noah, come here,” I beg. “I need you.”
He stops the tortuous movement with his mouth and replaces it with his fingers, and then climbs up my body to meet me.
“This time, Tab, you need to tell me what you want.” His voice is rough and his breathing is heavy before he claims my mouth. “Tell me,” he says again, breaking the kiss.
“I want you,” I tell him, trying not to be self-conscious.
I reach in his boxer-briefs and feel his length for the first time without all the rules of our experiment. Power streams through me and I’m almost high on it. I tighten my grip and he is so thick and hard, responding to my every touch. He moans and chills run up and down my body.
I feel power both giving and taking control. Now, however, it’s time to take.
“I want this,” I say, stroking him slowly.
Then I move fast, ripping off his boxers to take him in my mouth in one swift motion.
“Christ,” Noah spits, and I know he’s mine to do with as I want. “Shit, Tabby, say it, please. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”
I ignore him for a minute, enjoying my claim over his body.
When I stop, I crawl up his chest and say in his ear, “I want you to take what’s yours.”
Noah happily obliges. He sits up, bringing me with him as he captures my breast in his mouth and gently tugs on the other. I let him feast on me until I can’t take it another second.
“Please, Noah,” I say. “I want you inside me.” I pull his hair, a little harder than I mean to. “Now,” I gasp.
“That’s all I needed to hear,” Noah says, flipping me to my back. He slides my legs apart and they fall open for him. At this point, I have no shame.
His hips grind into mine as he makes his way inside. “Tabby, you are so ready for me.” His voice is rough as he pushes in deep. I hold my breath, acclimating my body to Noah’s.
“God, you feel so good.” He opens his eyes and looks at me. “Are you okay?”
I nod.
I am so much more than okay.
“Move with me,” he commands, rocking slowly.
I keep pace with him and it is pure ecstasy. With each movement, we give and take, claiming each other. The sensation has me climbing again, and I’m needy with want.
Then Noah bites my earlobe and whispers, “Come for me, Tabby.” And I’m done. I come apart all around him, clenching as he continues to move inside me.
I scream his name. And that’s all it takes for Noah to fall with me.
Chapter 37
To say my life is bliss would be a gross misrepresentation. It is bliss to the nth degree times infinity. I am in love—with a sexy, smart, kind, amazing guy, and somehow he finds me worth all the trouble.
I also have Jules and Foster and my group of misfits. And I have Dad, Amy, and Michael. And though I may still have issues with Mom and have Noah’s pesky ex to deal with from time to time, my cup runneth over.
I’m thinking about all of this on the Friday before Christmas break while I’m in my shrink’s cozy office.
Yes, this is the yin and yang of my life.
Dr. Payne has a fireplace roaring and I feel like I could fall asleep.
“So you’re going to see your mom over the holiday?” Never one to mince words, she gets right to it and brings me back to reality. “How long has it been since her last visit?”
“About four months ago,” I say. “She hasn’t come to see me since school started.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
Sometimes I wanted to tell Dr. Payne where she could stick all of her questions. They were so ridiculous. I didn’t understand why she couldn’t be straight with me and just ask what was on her mind.
“It feels pretty shitty, that’s how it feels,” I tell her.
Then I proceed to explain why—and how—my mother continues to let me down. From the moment she found out about Thomas’ party, to sticking me in New Beginnings, to Thanksgiving. Our conversation goes on for quite some time.
When I’m finished, I brace for the reprimand.
She doesn’t give me one. Instead, she asks, “Do you think your mother is afraid, Tabby?”
“Afraid? I highly doubt it. What could she possibly be afraid of?”
“Maybe she’s afraid of failing or disappointing you,” Dr. Payne says. “Maybe she takes some of the blame for what happened last year. Why don’t you tell me about the conversations you’ve had about your assault, the fallout, your depression?”
Too tired to fight, I take a breath and get ready to spill. Her question was a good one. Mom and I talked around all of those things. She sat at my bed a few times and brought me soup. Of course, she’d say it’s going to be okay and we’re going to get through this about a thousand times a day, but that was the extent of it.
“I don’t think we really did talk about it,” I finally answer.
“Never?”
“Nope, not really.” I tell her.
We talk about that for a bit, not getting any closer to understanding any of it, and soon we’re out of time. Thank God. I’m exhausted. I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. I want nothing more than sleep, but I still have a full day ahead of me.
The day stretches on forever until my class with Noah. I’m completely consumed by my shrink session and the fact that Amy invited my mom and Stephen to Christmas—a horrifying thing to think about, especially after the Thanksgiving fiasco.
Once I’m settled in class, I take out my book and try not to dwell on any of it since I have only a few precious days of peace left in my immediate future. And the moment Noah walks in, it’s easy to do. His eyes find mine and all thoughts of Christmas and my morning therapy session disappear. Noah stops at my desk and gently touches my hand as he turns the book over. It’s a book of poetry by Maya Angelou.
“Good choice,” he says before taking his seat.
I fight the impulse to get up and jump into his lap.
“Okay, guys, settle in,” Professor Sands interrupts. “I know everyone is dreaming of holiday gifts, pi
gging out, and sleeping in, but let’s try to finish class on a productive note. As I mentioned earlier in the week, your job today is to find a piece of writing that best describes where you are in life at this moment. Don’t be shy, nobody will read your essays but me. And as long as you put some thought into it and those thoughts are authentic, I promise you’ll all do well. So let’s get to work. Pick a few of your favorites because we’ll be doing some exercises before the big essay is due.”
It’s hard to concentrate with Noah behind me, but as I read Maya Angelou’s poetry I become engrossed. A few times tears threaten to spill down my face. They don’t. I am in control. But it’s like she’s talking right to me and I feel good reading the words. They make music in my head and wrap around my heart in a warm embrace.
After class, I pull out a box from my backpack. Hanukkah doesn’t start until Sunday, but I want to give Noah his gift on our walk home, before he leaves for Boston to visit his grandparents. I hope it’s not too much, but I found a first edition of The Catcher in the Rye.
When it’s time to go, Noah holds up a finger signaling me to wait while he passes me to get to Jenna. My heart breaks a little. Most days I’d almost forgot she was in our class—at least until she needed him. I wasn’t in any place to make demands, so I graciously took the sloppy seconds. This is the real world after all.
I put the box back in my bag and head out, fighting the rejection in my head.
“Tabby,” Noah calls after me.
I turn to him.
“I’ll stop by later,” he says. Then he’s back to Jenna.
Whatever.
I can’t fault him. He already explained his relationship with Jenna and told me he wouldn’t let her down. He told me all of this before we got involved. I had a choice in the matter. And I chose him. Still the nasty feeling in my chest grows on the way home. At least now there are a few things I can do to prevent it from taking over or from taking me under.
At home, Noah texts me but I brush him off with a quick note to tell him I’m going to the center. I quickly change clothes and head out.
As Michael says, “Your slate has been wiped clean, Tabby.” Since I started dancing again, I almost believe it. I can’t wait to see Michael in a few days. Having him by my side might just make the visit with Mom bearable.
Once I get to the center, I put my ballet slippers on. Then, I wipe my slate clean and dance. There’s no Noah, Jenna, or upcoming visit from Mom. It’s just me, my body, and the music. My breathing accelerates and I start to break a sweat. Endorphins kick in. I sweat out the bad and breathe in the good. I start to feel like me again.
“Holy shit!” A deep voice breaks my focus.
“Have you been keeping something from me, Tabby?” Noah says.
“Oh, I’m just burning off steam,” I say not knowing how long he’s been watching me. “I’m finding healthy ways to deal.” He gets my group reference. I’ve told him a little bit about it, mainly to keep him off my back.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re a professional dancer?” he asks.
“I’m not,” I tell him. “Not anymore.”
“Like hell you aren’t. You need to join a group or squad or whatever you call it. That was incredible.”
“It’s a company.” I laugh. “And that’s not for me anymore,” I add, more seriously this time. “That was my old life, Noah. I don’t want to go back to it.”
“But you could get a scholarship for college. And maybe it would help with other stuff too.”
“No, this is enough. It does feel good, it does help, but it also brings back a lot of memories.”
“Please do me a favor.” He moves closer and rests his hands on my arms. “Think about it.”
I nod and my body instinctively moves closer to him. I am completely and utterly in love. I can’t stay mad at him and I don’t want to fight the past anymore. I want to focus on the future.
“Do me a favor,” I counter. “Show me what you got.”
I turn up the music.
And we dance.
That’s what we call progress.
But before Noah and I can progress any further, his parents call. They’ve upped their departure time for the Boston road trip because of a storm front moving in, so we have to make our goodbyes quick.
There are no Hallmark moments in the real world.
Chapter 38
On Christmas afternoon, Dad and Amy rush around the house. They have been for hours. It’s weird. Amy is never frazzled, but the thought of hosting a holiday dinner for my mom and Stephen has her on edge. The Nelson clan left Illinois this morning and are due anytime. I feel sick, but I keep it to myself.
I help set the table with the silverware. Amy’s made everything look great. Each place setting has a card with a famous quote about the holidays. They’re wrapped with a sprig of evergreen from the yard. Mom’s quote is from Dickens: I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. A little subliminal note for Mom, we’ll see if it works. My place setting has a quote from Helen Keller that says: The only blind person at Christmastime is he who has not Christmas in his heart. As I toy with it, I see some writing on the back. I flip it over to read a hidden message meant for my eyes only. It’s quote by Victor Borge: Santa Claus has the right idea, visit people once a year. I laugh. You gotta love Amy; the lady is good.
The rest of my family arrives early afternoon and after an hour of uncomfortable small talk and togetherness, we sit down to eat.
Amy made a traditional turkey dinner with the works. I was in charge of the mashed potatoes and I’m now realizing they are quite lumpy. I doubt anyone will notice. Dad and Amy seem pretty uptight; Mom has a minuscule portion on her plate; Michael won’t realize it as he inhales the food; and Stephen is just too much of a gentleman to say Boo.
“Tabby,” Mom says as I’m feeling my way through the lumps of potatoes. “Stephen and I were wondering if you’d like to come home for the rest of the holiday break. We could give you a ride back on Sunday. Maybe you could see Megan and come to church—”
“What?” I interrupt, rather rudely I might add, but I’m not sure I’m hearing her correctly. I can’t believe my ears. She wants me to go back to that place? Visit with my so-called best friend who dropped me the second my trouble became public? My mother has clearly lost her mind.
“We miss you at home, honey,” Mom continues with her plea to get me back to Illinois. A small fire ignites in my belly and burns just below the surface. I think about blowing off Mom’s suggestion and making up some school excuse. I can’t and worse, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be in control. My jaw clenches and my hands ball up in fists. I try to hold it all in, unsuccessfully.
“You could’ve fooled me,” I say almost laughing. Sarcasm. Yes, sarcasm is much better than anger. “You’ve come to see me, what? Two times in almost five months. Your only daughter. This is my home now, Mom, and I have no desire to go back to that hellhole in Illinois!”
“Well, I just thought—”
“You thought wrong.”
“Tabby, what’s wrong? Why are you so angry? I thought you were still seeing someone to help with these issues.”
“And that’s just the way you like it, isn’t it?” I spit. “Someone else taking care of my issues. Always someone else. But what about you? Where do you come into all of this? Oh that’s right, you don’t want to know. Pretend none of it is happening so you don’t have to be responsible. You wanted me dating that asshole, Thomas. You bent all the rules for him. And when he hurt me, you let him get away with it.”
“Tabby,” she fumbles. “What happened affected everyone, Stephen’s business. I—”
“Yes, Stephen’s precious business. God, Mom, you just don’t get it,” I say defeated. She really doesn’t and I’m not sure she ever will. “Just forget it. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.”
I stomp off into the living room and stand by the window, drawing a Christmas tree in the condensation.
Michael comes in and adds his own artwork to my drawing.
“Are you okay?” he asks, drawing a star on top of my tree.
“Yes, fine,” I say. “I’m better now that I finally let her have it. That’s been building for a long time, but let’s talk about something else for once. Tell me what’s going on with you.”
“Really?” he asks.
“Yes, I’d say it’s about time, wouldn’t you?”
“Well,” he says. “I’ve decided on a school.”
It takes me a minute to process.
“What? Where? Why didn’t you tell me?” I demand, happy to focus on my brother for a change.
“Let me take those one at a time,” Michael laughs. “Yes, I’ve finally decided on a college. The U of M, and I’m not talking Michigan. It happens to be located right here in Minneapolis. And, oh yeah, I just got my acceptance letter yesterday. I wanted to give you the news in person.”
By the time he finishes his sentence, I’m jumping and screaming and doing a happy dance. It’s going to be a merry Christmas after all.
We make it. The holiday is officially over and nobody died. I’m lying on my old bed relishing in Michael’s news when Amy comes in.
“Hey, babe, how are you?” she asks.
“Not too bad,” I say. “I was prepared for the worst. And Michael’s news? Wow. Somehow it turned out to be a good day.”
“Yes, it has,” she says, snuggling in with me. “Ya know, Tab. I think all this time I’ve been blaming your mom and Stephen for everything that happened last year, but I think your Dad and I need to step up and take our lumps.”
Wait just a minute. Is she turning on me? Feeling bad for my mom.
“What’s this all about? Do you think I was too hard on Mom?”
“Nooooo. No. No,” Amy says.
Thank the Lord.
“Sometimes I don’t know what that woman is thinking, you had every right to say what you did. But, you know, maybe if your Dad and I were there for you—giving you what you needed—maybe things wouldn’t have gotten so bad. Instead, we smothered you with hugs and kisses. I thought we could love it away. I wanted so bad to take care of you and to make it all go away, but I never asked you what you needed from me. I’m so sorry, Tabby. I want you to tell me what you need. Can you do that?”