Tasting, Finding, Keeping: The Story of Never

by C. M. Stunich

  “Why?” I ask him as I steal a glance over my shoulder. The door to the Dairy Queen opens and a group of girls walk out dressed in tight blue jeans and skimpy tank tops that can't possibly be keeping them warm in the nippy winter air. I ignore them, glad that I don't recognize any faces there. “Because I'm yours?” I ask him when he doesn't respond right away.

  “Exactly,” Ty says and then sighs. “Never, I don't know much about this whole girlfriend thing, but I do know that I don't like you hanging out with other guys.” I freeze and the air escapes my lungs in a whoosh. Did he just say girlfriend? Did Ty McCabe just say that word? Why? How? I move the phone away from my ear and take a deep breath before I speak.

  “I don't know what to say,” I admit.

  “You don't have to say anything,” he tells me with a sigh that matches my own. “And you don't have to do anything different. I'm not the kind of guy that wants to chain chicks up in his basement or pound my chest like some kind of testosterone fueled alpha male, but I … ” Ty pauses and the silence is poignant and important, a memory that I mark for remembrance. I don't know why, it's just one of those historical moments in life that you don't appreciate until they're over.

  “But?” I prompt and Ty laughs softly.

  “But I want to drive over there and beat the shit out of Noah Scott.” I laugh, too, and then there are tears in my eyes because all I really want to do is drive back to my mother's house and see Ty. I know in my heart that that isn't right. I have to see Noah Scott and find out. I'm not exactly sure what it is I'm finding, but I know I have to search anyway. When I find what I'm looking for, I'll know. “Just … don't do anything you'll regret, okay?” Ty says and then he hangs up. What he really means is, Don't sleep with him. I can read that message loud and clear. In fact, it might as well be written in blood against the moon's pale surface. And I'm not. I'm not going to sleep with Noah Scott, not when Ty is sitting on an old wooden porch smoking a cigarette and thinking of me and only me.

  I stuff my phone back in my pocket, turn around, and head straight for the door of the Dairy Queen. My eyesight becomes focused to a narrow point in front of me, locked onto a blonde head and blue eyes, a face that's tanned from the sun and a smile as sweet as rain.

  Noah Scott is reading a book and basking in the smell of grease and French fries and noise. He always liked noise. Noah Scott is a people person. He's sweet and he's kind and he knows things other people don't. Noah could put me on the straight and narrow, clean me up, change me, but then, Ty already has. Dirty boy Ty McCabe has done more for me than Noah Scott ever has. I pause next to the table and slide my nails down the pages of Noah's book so that he's forced to tear himself away from the words and look up at me.

  One. Two. Three. Time trickles away from us as the smile I've plastered on my face starts to fade.

  “She Lies Twisted?” I ask, inquiring after Noah's book. It's a dark title with a pain that matches my own. I have a coverless, wrinkled copy under my bed in the dorms. I've read it a hundred times sore and then I find Noah Scott with it wrapped in in his hands, and what am I supposed to think? He's staring at me like I'm a ghost, like he can't believe I'm standing there in the bright lights of the Dairy Queen with laughter a steady backdrop behind me.

  “Never … ” Noah whispers before he drops the book, stands up and throws his arms around me. Noah Scott squeezes me tight, and I start to cry. Again. I guess I won't stop until I'm done bleeding all of my pain and hate and anger from my eyes. Once it's all gone, maybe then I can look at the people from my past with dry eyes and a true smile, one that's as real as the dimpled grin that Ty McCabe has. Noah hugs me so hard that I can barely breathe. He's warm and he smells good, like flowers or a spring brook or something. He's light and soft and the complete opposite of Ty.

  After a moment, Noah steps back and looks at me with the slightest hint of tears in his pretty, blue eyes. He holds me at arm's length and just stares like he's the luckiest man in the world.

  “I can't believe it's you,” Noah whispers as he drops his arms to his sides and shakes his head.

  “I got your text,” I croak out as I lower my gaze to the floor. It's all I can say.

  “Yeah?” Noah asks and then, “God, I've been missing you like crazy.” My head snaps up and my heart begins to thump. When Noah reaches out and touches my face, runs his thumb along my jaw, I know I'm in trouble.

  I'm in love with Ty McCabe. I was once in love with Noah Scott.

  Talk about a rock and a hard place.

  12

  “God, I just … wow.” Noah Scott runs his hand through his pretty blonde hair. It's so shiny and perfect, like he just stepped out of a shampoo commercial or something. “I don't know what to say,” he admits as he looks me up and down and, apparently, approves of what he sees. “You're even more beautiful than I remember,” he tells me, and I blush. I. Blush. Me. Never Ross, the whore from the Northwest, the girl with the broken heart, and the parade of faceless guys she doesn't remember. What the fuck?

  “I … ” That's all I have. Just that one word. Just I.

  “I can't believe you're here,” he says as he steps back and holds his hands out, palms up, to indicate my person. Noah's blue eyes are sparkling, clear as glass, bright and happy and cheerful. I can see right through him, see that he's a good guy with a kind heart and fluffy, candy coated dreams. Noah Scott and Ty McCabe would not get along very well. “I have so many questions,” he begins and then I see something interesting, a glimmer of dark pain. Noah Scott is very good at hiding it, but it's there, and it's all because of me. Shit. “I want to ask you a million things and tell you a million more, but I … okay.” Noah takes a deep breath and smiles. “Are you hungry?” he asks. “You look hungry. Let me get you something to eat, okay?”

  “Okay.” It takes me a whole lot of effort to speak that word. Noah grabs my hand and my fingers tingle just a bit, like I can see them being coated with fairy dust or something. Noah. Noah Scott. My Noah. The guy who asked me out in the middle of a math test with a note, the guy who didn't think it was lame to kiss me in front of the whole school on Valentine's day, the guy who moved gently inside of me my first time, who kissed away my fears and showed me a brief glimpse of what love could be. I start to panic. “Noah,” I gasp, and he pauses to look back at me. His eyes are wide, like he needs to keep them open, so he can see me clearly, so that I won't flicker and disappear, some evanescent memory that fades at the touch of the sun, just a bit of moonlight. I choke on my own saliva and wrench my hand from his. “Just a second, just one second.” I stumble to the bathroom and Noah follows. People are looking at us now and whispering. I think maybe they've just recognized me. I hit the girls' bathroom and step inside, closing and locking the door behind me. Luckily, it's not a set of stalls, just a single toilet that I have all to myself. I sit down on the floor and pull out my phone. I don't know who to call. Who do I have that I can rely on? That I can tell secrets to? I think frantically and decide there is only one person besides Ty McCabe that I'm not related to that might be able to help.

  I call Lacey.

  She picks up on the third ring and starts to talk.

  “Hey Nev! I texted Ty to ask how you were taking things and he said you were with Noah. Is he still cute? Are you into him?”

  “Lacey, stop,” I say, and she does. She goes quiet, and she just listens. “Help me.”

  “Are you in trouble?” she asks, and her voice is fearful like it was the day at the convenience store, the day she thought some prick was going to force himself inside of her. The memory makes my vision go red, and I have to clamp down on my rage. Because Ty was there, he and I were able to save Lacey. She's okay, so there's no need for me to add even more emotions to the boiling pot I've already got on my stove.

  “I think so,” I say. And then, “No.” I consider hanging up but can't. “I love Ty.” Lacey doesn't speak, but I can hear her breathing. “I don't know about Noah Scott. I thought I could see his face and say no, but I can'
t. I can't. I just can't. I want to talk to him, find out where he's been and what he's doing, but most of all, I want to know how he feels about me. Is that normal?” I can seriously hear Lacey smiling on the other end of the line.

  “Never, don't beat yourself up. Of course you want to see Noah. He was your first boyfriend, and let's face it, you didn't break up with him. You didn't fall out of love or have a fight or catch him cheating, so you're still connected in a way. You might always be connected. What you're going to have to do, and what I don't envy you for, is you're going to have to make a choice.”

  “A choice?” Lacey sighs, but I don't think it's at me. I think she's digging through her own life to give me this advice.

  “You might love Ty, but you might also love Noah. That's okay. There's nothing wrong with that, but you can't have them both. They need all of you, and if you can't give it, you have to give one up. Pick one and be sure you're making the right decision because once you do, that's it. There's no going back, especially with Ty.” Lacey pauses. “And Never?”

  “Yeah?” I croak, not entirely convinced that calling her was the right idea.

  “Please don't be an idiot.” And then she hangs up on me. I stare at the screen and am tempted to crush it between my fingers and flush it down the toilet. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  “Never?” Noah is inquiring after me, as any proper gentleman should. Ty would've busted down the door with his big boots, cigarette in hand, and said, What the fuck is wrong with you? I smile. “Are you okay?” I stand up and straighten my sweatshirt. Oddly enough, it's actually Ty's sweatshirt, and it just happens to be the one he threw over my lap while he fingered me on the bus. Great. Perfect. Just what I need, reminders of Ty's skillful fingers while I'm with Noah. As if that isn't going to overcomplicate the already overcomplicated. I don't answer him, but I do turn around and open the door.

  Noah smiles at me.

  “Sorry,” he says unnecessarily. “I just feel like if I take my eyes off you, that you'll disappear.”

  “What did you do?” I blurt too loudly in the middle of a freaking Dairy Queen. “What did you do when you woke up, and I was gone?” I take strange, shallow breaths as I ask this question, and watch as Noah's face tumbles like I've just thrown his joy off a cliff.

  “Come with me to the lake,” he says suddenly, and I start to protest. Noah holds up his hands. “I already ordered you a milkshake and a burger. Let's grab it and go to the lake, just to eat. Give me an hour, Never Regali, and I will make it worth your while.”

  “God, Noah, I can't,” I say, but I want to cry when I say it. Noah turns around and I swear to God, some of that pretty, practiced perfection slips. I watch his shoulders rise and fall as he breathes. He's wearing a white and blue striped button up with short sleeves over a white tee. He's paired it with a pair of blue jeans and some Converse. Light, unobtrusive. Noah was never one to take his looks very seriously. Anyway, maybe that was a luxury of being born pretty because Noah Scott is drop dead gorgeous. Still, he never minced his words and he was always poetic, even at his dirtiest. He turns back towards me, and I can see that my leaving has left this mark on his soul that cannot be erased. For good or bad, he and I are part of one another and might be forever. I have to talk this out with him, for both our sakes. And for Ty's. If I choose Ty because I refuse to see Noah, what good does that do? I have to choose Ty for Ty and in spite of Noah. I have to.

  “Please,” Noah begs, but I'm already decided. “I can't move on, Never. I've been so stuck without you.” I close my eyes against tears.

  “Okay,” I say. “Okay, but just for a little while, Noah, and I'm not promising anything.”

  “Thank you,” he breathes, and I feel guilty because he sounds so relieved. “Thank you, Never. You have no idea how much this means to me.” But I do. I do because it might even mean more to me than it does to him.

  13

  I let Noah drive because I don't know if I can right now. Besides, I trust him. Even though it's been five years since we've seen each other, I know that Noah would never do anything to hurt me or make me uncomfortable. If I ask him, he'll take me back to the Dairy Queen.

  “You haven't touched your shake?” he says with a smile, finally breaking a ten minute stretch of moonlit silence. When I don't answer, Noah focuses his attention back on the road and turns on his blinker. The lake isn't far from the Dairy Queen which isn't far from downtown which isn't far from my mother's house. This town is small, too small in my opinion, but it does have its perks. One of which is that Noah and I don't have to suffer in awkward silence for too, too long before we get to the empty parking lot by the lake. Even in the dead of night, even though nobody friggin' cares, Noah Scott puts money into the machine that dispenses parking passes and puts one under his windshield wiper. I look at the car, examine the sleek black curves, and wonder how much it set his Daddy back. Mr. Scott is very well to do, so I'm guessing the number is something astronomical, more than my tuition probably. I hate the world for that. I hate that Ty had to sell his body to make ends meet while Mr. Scott plays games with his money like the earth is one big, giant Monopoly board, sits back and reaps the benefits. I fucking hate that. But I don't hate Noah. Noah was never the spoiled, little rich kid archetype. He's always been thoughtful and poetic. I see that time hasn't changed that.

  “In darkness they were born and in darkness they bled, one for the other, two souls lost in a sea of black until finally, they found a beam of light and that they followed until they hit the sun and were reborn.” Noah pauses and looks over his shoulder at me. “Sorry,” he says, but I've finally got a smile on my face. “Might be a little much if I start quoting poetry at you from minute one.”

  “That's okay,” I say as we both step over the small, wooden fence that separates the parking lot from the grassy area surrounding Shadow Lake. It's still just as beautiful as I remember, but not as beautiful as the sea. I hate that I can see the other side, although distant. The ocean offers up so many more possibilities. It might be more dangerous, but I like it better than the lake, even if it's the safer choice. “I missed your poems.” I pause as I think about how to tell Noah that I kind of stalked him. “Well, I missed hearing you recite them. I read all the ones you posted,” I say as we move over to a picnic table and sit on the top with our feet on the bench, backs towards the parking lot and eyes focused on the still, quiet waters of the lake.

  “I looked everywhere for you, Never,” he whispers and his voice carries across the surface of the lake like a dragonfly. “You didn't post anything online, nothing to let me know you were there, that you were listening.” Noah pauses. “Did you read my Butterfly Series?” he asks referring to a set of poems that I printed out and read until the paper fell apart, until my eyes were blurry. I know all about the Butterfly Series.

  “Alas! I've discovered the crisis of humanity; a dirty truth is no better than a pretty lie yet one is substantially more harsh than the other. How can I, a man without a heart, be expected to tell either without crippling his soul beyond repair?” I quote Noah's words without a hitch, without a single stumble, and finally give in to the smell of the food, stuffing a cold fry into my mouth and sucking at the straw to my milkshake. Noah looks at me for a long moment, and then he reaches out and brushes some hair from my face. I feel paralyzed, so I don't move. I just sit there and watch him watching me and don't know what to do.

  “To answer your question,” he says finally as he turns his head away from me and leans back on his palms. “When I woke up and found you had left, I … ” Noah freezes, and I take the chance to examine the smooth, straight line of his nose, his perfect, pink lips and the way he runs his tongue across them unconsciously. He's not as muscular as Ty, but he's strong. I can see it in his arms, the way his shirt falls neatly down the smooth plane of his belly. I remember touching it, running my fingers down it, licking my way to his cock. My first and last blow job. I didn't do blow jobs with my guy friends. What was the point? Get them off while I sit th
ere and watch, wallowing in my pain? No, thank you. I needed to fill that hole inside of me. I look away, suddenly ashamed. Noah doesn't know. Noah doesn't know. He doesn't know. He doesn't know I'm a fucking whore, but what if he did? How do I tell him? Do I have to tell him? I swing my gaze back to Noah and my chip earring hits me again. I want to rip it out and throw it in the lake, but I know that's stupid, that I'd regret that, so I just touch it, still its movement before Noah sees and asks about it. “I panicked Never,” Noah finally admits. “I panicked because I loved you so much I thought my heart was going to explode every time you walked into a room. I wanted to marry you, have a family with you, keep you forever.”

  “I'm not a dog,” I snap, and feel instantly guilty. Obviously Noah is aware of that fact. His face falls, and I find myself reaching out to apologize. I touch the back of his hand gently and have to swallow three times before I can speak. “I'm sor-”

  “I still love you, Never.”

  Shit.

  “Noah,” I begin because I can't stand having these two guys saying things like this to me. It makes me feel … strange. I went from empty inside to full all at once, and I don't know how to handle it. Noah holds up his hands.

  “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that,” he tells me softly and tries to smile his way through the awkward. It works. I smile back. “Let's start over.” Noah takes a deep breath and sets his hands on his knees. “So,” he begins. “How the hell have you been?” I look at Noah, practically sparkling in the fucking moonlight, and I know I can't tell him anything real, not now, not yet. Fuck, maybe not ever. I can't tell him that I've had sex with more men than I can count on both hands and both feet, that my family chose a murderer over me, that the only friends I've made in five friggin' years are Lacey Setter and Ty McCabe. Ty McCabe. I definitely can't tell him about Ty McCabe.