Undeclared (The Woodlands)

by Jen Frederick

  “It’s really nice back here. You have parties? Don’t your neighbors kick up a fuss?” This area looked too sedate to tolerate a bunch of college or near-college aged kids.

  “We invite them or pay them off. You’d be surprised how many people won’t call the police if you give them a little money. Plus, other than the occasional party, we’re pretty good neighbors. We mow our grass and don’t keep the trashcans on the drive for too long.”

  He pulled into a wide driveway that dipped down and ended in front of a large two-story house that looked primarily made of glass with a few wood beams to hold it up. The end of the drive separated the main house from another smaller structure that looked like a detached garage.

  I shook my head. “I guess I understand why there are so many of you living together.”

  “Yeah, it’s a pretty sweet setup,” Noah replied with pride.

  We walked in the side door. Noah said, “I think Adam is practicing in his studio.” He pointed to the detached building across from the house. “Finn and Mal are watching football. The pool is empty and the games are bad.”

  He led me through the kitchen and out the back door onto the patio.

  “Tell me the truth. Finn whacked the buyer so he could get this house.” I couldn’t believe my eyes. The place was gorgeous. We stopped before the pool, which was laid out in a classic mosaic pattern with an infinity edge. The drop-off made the most of the forested woods behind the house.

  “It’s possible. You’ve met Finn. He’s totally got that serial killer vibe,” Noah joked. Finn looked like a mischievous choirboy, innocent but with a lot of knowledge in his eyes. He probably got away with a million naughty deeds.

  “It’s obvious from the start what with his illicit coffee cup in the library and his predilection for architectural design magazines. Classic signs of perversion,” I snickered.

  The pool was spectacular. It had jets in the concrete on one side that arced into the pool. Attached to the shallow end of the pool was a raised, tiled round area that looked like a Jacuzzi. The pool itself was rectangular, with one end framed by a sizeable pool house. A covered deck area contained a brick oven that looked to be in disarray.

  Noah led me around the scattered bricks. “Finn and Mal are building an outdoor grill, but it’s a project that has taken them all summer to get this point.”

  It looked like a mess, as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to a brick wall. If this was the process of reconstruction, I worried about the houses that Finn flipped.

  The pool area was empty and quiet. A large fence and barrier of trees on either side of the property shielded us from the neighbors.

  “Just drop your stuff on a lounger. You can change in the pool house,” Noah directed.

  “I’ve got my suit on already,” I told him. “I thought you were against water.” I had once asked Noah what his greatest fear was, after sharing that mine was spiders. He had told me it was water, but that the Marines worked that out of him.

  “I overcame that fear, remember.”

  He took off his shirt and jumped into the deep end. When he surfaced, he gestured for me to join him. It felt like a thousand degrees, and I was eager to cool off. I dropped my bag on the lounger, disposed of my cover up, and jumped in right next to Noah. It wasn’t the most elegant of jumps, but I didn’t care. I wanted to have fun today.

  Noah and I played catch with a Nerf football and challenged each other to see who could make the biggest splash. Apparently the games inside were so bad that Finn, the serial killer, came out and challenged Noah to a race. I played the flag girl, which meant I sat at the end of the pool and yelled go and then lied about who won. Noah won every time, but I said Finn did.

  After the very exhausting effort of watching two fine male specimens swim, I decided to go lie on one of the loungers. It was, I decided, one of the better afternoons of my life.

  Later, Mal came out and fired up the grill that apparently worked amidst all the rubble. Adam emerged from whatever part of the house he had hidden in, and we all enjoyed steaks and beer. Bo was conspicuously absent, but I refused to let that dampen my enjoyment. Noah and I made a grocery run for s’mores fixings. I was nearly comatose after all the food.

  “Can you just wheel me home and dump me on the porch? I’ll sleep there. It’ll be cooler, and I won’t have to walk up stairs,” I asked Noah, who sat next to me on an outdoor loveseat. I wanted to just pull up my feet and lay my head in his lap. I wanted to stay on this love seat replete from chocolate and marshmallows and the heat of his large body next to mine.

  “You can’t expect me to drive you home,” Noah protested. “I’m at least four s’mores over the driving limit.”

  I made a halfhearted slap at him and reminded him that of all of us, he ate the least and had only one s’more. “I’d hit you harder, but I’m going into a sugar coma and am losing control of my limbs.” Inwardly I was hugging myself. Noah wanted me to stay. Any nervousness I had before had been eroded by the sun, swimming, food, and company.

  “We’d better get you to a safe place before that happens,” Noah said, standing up. Then he bent over and picked me up in his arms. “Get the door, Finn.”

  “Yessir,” Finn slurred. He’d had many beers with his s’mores. He claimed he hated chocolate and was only able to eat it with copious amounts of alcohol. I wasn’t sure if he was serious.

  “I was only kidding about the carrying business,” I said to Noah’s chest.

  “You’re my guest. I don’t want you getting injured. I’m not sure we’re current on our homeowner’s insurance,” Noah joked. I could feel the rumble of his voice through his chest. If I had eaten or drunk less, I’d have protested more, but right now I felt too satiated and happy to argue. If he wanted to carry me out to his truck, I was okay with that. Only he didn’t proceed out the kitchen to the driveway. Instead, he started up the stairs.

  “Are you trying to work off your s’more?” I asked.

  “Nope, I’m putting you to bed.”

  I started to struggle weakly. “I can’t stay here.” My protests were half-hearted, though, and Noah merely ignored them.

  He carried me down the hall like I weighed no more than a marshmallow and took me into a room on the right. The room was dark and the walls seemed to be painted gray or white. I couldn’t tell in the dimness.

  A large bed was positioned between two windows. Noah walked straight to the bed and laid me down on top of the gray striped comforter. He went over to a dresser and pulled out a T-shirt that had the letters USMC. “You can sleep in this,” he said, tossing the shirt to me.

  I took the shirt and held it up to my face. It was cool and smelled clean. I wished it was the shirt Noah was wearing so I could be wrapped up in his scent and surrounded by the warmth of his body.

  When I didn’t move, Noah said, “Should I help you? You mentioned something about non-functioning limbs.”

  The offer was a joke, but an invitation lurked underneath. I wasn’t ready for that yet. “No, I think I can manage but, um, are you sure I can’t just call a cab?”

  “Cab service is shit out here, and I don’t want you to leave,” Noah replied firmly.

  I went to the bathroom and put on the borrowed shirt. Noah had also lent me a pair of cotton boxers that were too large in the waist. I rolled the waistband down twice so it settled on my hips, the extra fabric from the turns ensuring the boxers wouldn’t fall off. Noah definitely passed the“ not fitting into my jeans” rule.

  He stood next to the bed holding the covers up for me. I exited the bathroom and slipped under them. If I were braver, with more experience, I’d have reached for him. He’d press his body into mine, and I’d run my hands over his broad back. I’d map the dips and peaks of his ridged chest, the one I’d stared at all day in the pool.

  I was restless and unsatisfied, wanting something I knew only Noah could give me. My open expression was easy for him to read. Noah sank down on the edge of the bed and put one arm across my body
. His head dipped low, and I saw his eyes darken. His descent was slow and measured, telegraphing that I could stop him at any time.

  I must’ve known the day would lead to this, even if I hadn’t acknowledged it consciously. I placed a tentative hand on both of his forearms, braced at my sides. I felt him shudder and for a moment, I was filled with a strange sense of power. I could make him shudder for me.

  I slid my hands up his arms and around his shoulders, enjoying the feel of hot flesh over hard muscle. My fingers laced around his neck. The first touch of his lips against mine was soft, almost like whispers of a kiss. His touch wasn’t tentative so much as patient. If we went any further, he was saying, it would be at my urging.

  So I lifted up and pressed into him, using his body as leverage for mine. And that was enough. His arms swept around my body, lifting me flush against him. His hand came up into my hair and cradled my head against the now hard onslaught of his lips and then his tongue. I felt like he was a marauder, invading my mouth and my senses.

  His other hand was braced around my ribs just under my breast. I felt my nipples tighten in anticipation of his touch. But when I thought he would move his hand, perhaps caress my breast, he stopped. He pulled his mouth away and rested his forehead against mine. We were both out of breath, but Noah was panting like he had run ten miles with his heavy rucksack.

  His hand tightened in my hair and then let go. He ran his fingers over the strands, smoothing them down. I stared at him, trying to read his intentions, his thoughts, to divine the meaning of it all.

  “I didn’t bring you here today for this,” he said finally. His thumbs were tracing patterns on my face, and it was hard to think or form coherent responses. I just wanted to lie down and draw him next to me. Do my own exploration.

  But the separation of his lips from mine brought me a moment of clarity. Taking this path with Noah would make me far more vulnerable than I’d ever been. And suddenly the memory of the ache I had felt upon his rejection was piercing. The warm glow that had been fostered through out the day and the tender night was snuffed out by the chill of that memory.

  “Don’t close up on me now, Grace,” Noah said. He held my face and leaned down to kiss me again, but I drew back.

  “Maybe this is a mistake.”

  “No, it’s not.” He sounded firm and convinced.

  I took a deep breath. I was going to roll over and show my soft underbelly, but it shouldn’t be any surprise to him. He had to know he could hurt me. I hadn’t ever had a real relationship before, and I didn’t know all the rules and moves to make. I’d never been good at games, and I hated uncertainty even more.

  “I thought I did know you, Noah, but I don’t. You show up here at Central without a word. You ignore me for two years and then you’re everywhere.” I waved a hand between us. “You even decide when we start kissing and when we stop.”

  He began to open his mouth, but I interrupted, “If you really want something to work out between us, I’m going to need the whole story.”

  He nodded and took a deep breath. “I think I was less nervous the first time I was deployed.” He waited for me to smile at this confession, but it was too serious to me for jokes. “There are thousands of colleges I could’ve gone to, Grace, but I came here because it had you.”

  “What about two years ago?” I asked, my voice breaking slightly, and I turned away as I could feel my throat close up and the tears begin to form behind my eyes.

  Noah sat up and leaned his forearms again his knees. His body was angled away from me, and I couldn’t see his face, only his profile. The skin seemed drawn tighter than usual against his jaw. “I went into the Marines when I was seventeen. I hadn’t ever lived a normal civilian life on my own. When I got out, I found out I had to apply for school, find an apartment, get a job. All the skills I had been taught as a Marine didn’t help in the civilian world.” He took a deep breath, and I wanted to hug him then and tell him he didn’t need to say another word. But he looked so tense I was afraid one touch would shatter him. I remained quiet and motionless, and he continued.

  “I flew to Chicago and rented a car. I was going to surprise you, but when I drove up the North Shore to your home…” His voice trailed off. “Grace, you live behind a gate and the drive was so fucking long I couldn’t even see your house.”

  I didn’t understand what my Uncle’s house had to do with anything so I stayed silent. This obviously frustrated Noah because he drew one hand through his hair, hair that I now knew was soft as my aunt’s mink coat.

  “What?” I protested.

  “You don’t even see how different that is. I grew up very poor. Maybe you got that from my letters and maybe you didn’t. But I was some grunt from the Marines and while I had saved money, it wasn’t anything like that. I couldn’t afford to buy you a house like that.”

  “I don’t want a house like that.” The house itself wasn’t so bad, but the constant tension of watching your mother move around like a ghost and your aunt run down your best friend until she was afraid to eat was intolerable. I didn’t want to live in a house like that, ever.

  “But you live a life completely different than mine,” Noah said. “Do you even know how much it costs to go to college here for one year?”

  I didn’t know. I mean, I knew it was expensive, but Uncle Louis paid for my tuition and my apartment. And I was finally seeing where Noah was going with this.

  “Ah, the light dawns,” he said, with a frustrated undertone. He had tilted his head so he could see me.

  “So you didn’t want to meet me because you thought I was a snob?” I asked, frustrated myself.

  “Okay, I was wrong. The light isn’t dawning. You’re just going down the wrong tunnel,” he sounded angry and a little bitter.

  “You insulting me isn’t going to make me understand better.”

  He threw up both hands in a defensive position. “I just wanted to meet you on equal terms so you didn’t feel sorry for me.”

  “I never felt sorry for you! I always thought you were amazing and brave and—” I cast around for another word but failed. “Amazing.”

  “I just needed some time,” Noah said, sounding resigned and tired.

  “So here you are, all fixed up and feeling ‘equal,’ and I’m supposed to just be ready for you?” Our two years of separation was because he felt he wasn’t good enough? I wanted to cry at the injustice.

  “No, you’ve always been perfect,” Noah protested.

  “Well, I’m not. You have all these plans and goals, and I can’t even decide on a major.” I gestured toward his books on the desk.

  “That doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Your money or lack of it doesn’t matter to me,” I assured him.

  “It should,” Noah’s face took on a grim cast. “My mom died because we didn’t have enough money.”

  “You don’t know that Noah. You don’t know if she would’ve survived if she had better medical care. No one knows that for sure. You should’ve written me. Or met me and told me. I’d have waited or gone to college in San Diego,” I pointed out.

  “Yes, well, none of those things really occurred to me back then. I told you I was screwed up.”

  We were both breathing heavily as if we had engaged in a physical fight instead of just throwing a bunch of words back and forth. Noah blew out his breath and leaned toward me, one arm crossed over my body.

  “I was tired of the war, the dust, the desert. Being back in San Diego as a civilian was weird. I missed the adrenaline high of always being alert. I started fighting in a gym and then working and taking classes, and when I was super busy, I felt more normal. The relaxation bit was difficult.” He paused and swallowed hard. “I, ah, had to talk to someone for a little while to try to get my head screwed on straight.”

  I hadn’t really thought of this. Noah always seemed perfectly together in his letters, often making jokes. Even now he presented himself as this supremely confident male. I wanted to kick myself for be
ing so self-absorbed and not truly understanding how difficult the transition from enlisted Marine to casual civilian must be for him.

  “Grace, I want to be with you. I think you want to be with me. Can’t we put it all behind us and start new?” he pleaded softly.

  I looked into his face, and I thought about the Noah I knew from his letters. He was funny, generous, and kind. I had fallen in love with him once, and I was halfway there now. I just didn’t know if he’d hurt me again.

  “You make me nervous,” I confessed.

  “A good nervous?”

  “I’m not certain. I feel like,” I sat up, wanting him to understand me. “I’m not seeking any compliments here, but I feel like you’re out of my league.”

  Noah laughed a little like I was joking.

  “No, really, I mean it,” I said.

  He re-arranged his face into a suitably serious expression, all hints of laughter erased. “What do you mean?”

  “Noah, you’ve got it together. You’ve a plan. You’re headed somewhere, and I’m not. I can barely figure out what I’m doing tomorrow, let alone next year. You should be with someone like Lana.” I pushed my hands together, threading my fingers. “You fit.”

  “What kind of bullshit is that?” he said angrily.

  “It isn’t bullshit. It’s the natural rule of the universe that like attracts like.”

  “There are many things wrong with your theory, Grace. It’s a good thing that you don’t plan on being a scientist. Who cares that you don’t have a major? What about magnetic poles drawing each other together? Where in the laws of crazy Grace universe does that actual scientific fact fall?”

  I decided that Noah couldn’t actually hear me, so I laid it out for him. “I’m afraid that I’ll fall hard for you and that you’ll hurt me again. My insecurity would end up driving you nuts and embarrass me.” I looked down at my hands that were now clenched together. “While I may not know what I want to be, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to be that girl.”

  “Is your insecurity going to play itself out by you trying out other guys to make me jealous?” he demanded.