Breaking Noah

by Missy Johnson

  Lance’s facial expression changes drastically and his cheeks instantly turn red—not with embarrassment, more so with the look that tells me that I’m about to get my ass kicked.

  “Dude,” Lance says, placing his hands over his ears and shaking his head like he’s trying to get the thought out of his mind.

  “Exactly my point.” I laugh.

  “Okay, change of subject. How’s work, Noah? I still don’t know how you do it…getting up at the ass crack of dawn to go and try to teach a bunch of little shits about the language they’re supposed to know backward and forward.” There’s a reason this kid went to law school and became one of the best mediators in the state. Clay knows how to diffuse a situation like no other.

  “First, I don’t teach grammar and shit. It’s literature. You know, books? I’m sure you’ve heard of them before. But it’s all right. Got a transfer student in a few days ago…army brat. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was much older than she actually is. I haven’t met any students yet that have read Pride and Prejudice for fun.”

  “Does anyone read that shit for fun? There aren’t even any pictures,” Lance jokes, and I roll my eyes.

  “You might actually have a good year, then. At least one of your students will be paying attention.” Little does Clay know that my year is going to be anything but good. If I’m thinking about Zara this much now, what’s going to happen when the term progresses and I learn more about her? I really should talk to the dean or her counselor about having her class switched. Having her with me for a few hours a day three times a week is going to be hell.

  “Hello? Noah? You done checking out on us?” Lance asks, raising a hand for the bartender to bring us another round.

  “Sorry. What’d I miss?”

  “Nothing important,” Clay says. “Just Lance asking if any of those students of yours would mind sleeping with an older man. Then there was something about pert asses, perky tits, and pussies that haven’t gone through the wringer.”

  The thought of Lance touching Zara enters my head and I can’t get it out. The protectiveness I feel over her and the jealousy overwhelming me is nearly too much to handle. I need to stop thinking of her as anything but another student. She isn’t mine. What she does in her free time is her business. But why do I feel this way about her, but not about Shannon? Something’s wrong with this situation. I need her out of my head. Now.

  “No,” I simply state, staring Lance down.

  “How hot is she?” he asks, catching the vibes I’m throwing. I should have known that I wouldn’t be able to hide anything, let alone this, from my best friend.

  “Leave it alone.”

  “That hot, huh? Damn, Bain, I didn’t know you had a thing for your students. I gotta see this girl. The hall monitor finally breaks the rules.”

  “I haven’t broken anything,” I harshly state.

  “Yet…”

  “All right. This was a good time. I’ll see you guys later. Someone text me and let me know when Derrick and Rick are coming so we can get this over and done with.” I stand from my stool and throw a twenty on the bar—more than enough to cover my three beers. Walking to the door, I overhear Lance’s comments to Clay.

  “You see how he acted when I brought up his student? She’s gotta be fucking perfect for him to risk everything,” Lance says.

  “I hope he knows what he’s doing,” Clay responds.

  “Dude, for the first time ever, he’s following his gut and not his rulebook. I’m fucking proud of him. Now, if we could just get him to lose the baggage, he’d be so much better off.”

  “I’ll take her off his hands.”

  At this point, I just might let Clay have a go at Shannon. Lord knows she’s not doing anything to better me or my life.

  But Zara.

  First thing Monday morning, I’m going to the dean to have her class switched to another professor. These thoughts aren’t good for anyone, especially me. I really need to get myself in check.

  She’s your student. There is no situation where you’d be allowed to know her as anything other than that. Get your shit together.

  Chapter 5

  Zara

  It’s been two weeks since I first walked into his classroom, which means it’s been six times I’ve walked into that room and felt his eyes on me. I feel like he’s anything but discreet, and that I’ve captured his attention; but nobody else seems to have noticed, which makes me wonder if it’s just me. Am I thinking he’s into me because that’s my endgame or because it’s actually what’s happening? Then I remember how one-dimensional the rest of the students are in this class. They’re far more concerned with discussing their weekend scores and where the next party will be.

  I was sure after the incident outside my apartment that this was going to be easy. But if anything, the opposite was true. Even though I could feel his eyes on me, he was paying less attention to me than he did to every other student. I was offered no help, and he never asked how I was doing with whatever lame task we were working on. It was almost like his attempts to ignore me were drawing more attention than if he was actually treating me like every other student. I’d take that, though, because it spoke volumes about what he was feeling—or what I think he was feeling.

  It also might have something to do with the fact he tried to have me kicked out of his class last week. Lucky for me, his lit class was the only one still open for registration, so there was nowhere else for me to go. Little bastard thought he could get rid of me? I’m not backing down or running away. He’s got another thing coming.

  —

  After class I hang back, waiting until the last student leaves. His eyes never leave the papers he’s grading at his desk, but his body language, the stiffness in his back, the tight grip on his pen, and the subtle twitch of his head every time I make a sound, tells me he knows I’m here. I hold back a smile and sashay to the front of the room, parking myself on top of the desk in front of his.

  I cross my legs at the thigh and wait for him to acknowledge me. He fights it at first, probably thinking if he ignores me long enough I’ll get tired and leave. I’m about to clear my throat when he finally looks up.

  “Yes, Ms. Hamilton?” His eyes don’t meet mine, they kind of wander around everywhere else.

  I tilt my head and smile. “You go out of your way to ignore me in class, Professor Bain. That’s not very fair of you. My education could be suffering,” I comment.

  “I highly doubt it,” he says dryly. “And I offer you the same level of assistance as I do all my students.”

  “How many of them have you stalked?” I smirk. His expression freezes. Setting down the papers he is holding, his eyes meet mine in a cold stare.

  “That shouldn’t have happened, Zara,” he says, his voice firm.

  “Maybe not.” I shrug. “But it did. Anyway, my aim isn’t to make you feel awkward. I was hoping you could help me with this.” I thrust the homework task across his desk.

  His brow creases. “You told me Pride and Prejudice is one of your favorites.”

  “Still”—I shrug—“my future is riding on this year. I want to be sure I’m on the same page as you.”

  He studies me for a long time, like he’s gauging my motive, and then finally nods, succumbing to my need for help. After all, that’s why he said he showed up at my place—he was worried about me, and I’m pretty sure that means that if I was in a bad spot, he’d want to help. His personality is very much Captain Save A Hoe, if you ask me.

  “Okay. We can run through the material.” He pauses, checking his watch. “I have a meeting now, but I have office hours tomorrow. If you don’t have any other classes around three, we can meet then.”

  I uncross my legs, swing them in front of me, and jump down from the desk, a smile on my lips. He catches my eye for a moment and then looks away.

  “Thanks, Mr. Bain. I really appreciate this,” I say, pushing the papers into my backpack and slinging it over my shoulder. “I’ll see y
ou tomorrow.”

  —

  The apartment is empty when I arrive home, but that’s not unusual. Between his classes, work, and his dedication to drinking, I rarely see Dillon. Not that it bothers me. As awful as it sounds, he is a means to an end for me. I did truly love him at one point, but since Karly’s gone, it all seems pointless. It doesn’t help that every time I see his face, all I can think of are the times we all spent together. I know Dillon only through Karly, and now when I’m with him, I want only her. I’m a terrible human being. I’d give anything for just one more conversation, one more sleepover, one more anything with her…in a heartbeat, no second guesses.

  I settle down on the bed with a bowl of ramen and my laptop. I check my email first. My heart swells when I see a new message from Ryan, my brother. Given the lack of Internet in war-torn areas, his emails to me are few and far between, so hearing from him makes my day. Hell, it makes my month.

  Zara,

  How’s my baby sister doing? I hear you’ve moved to Evanston with that asshole you call a boyfriend. Seriously, you can do so much better, but I know you know this, so I won’t go on about it.

  Things are good here. I’m safe, which is always a plus, huh?

  How’s school? I hope you’re making friends and not doing that emo “I don’t need anybody” thing I know you probably are doing. Try and let people in, okay? I worry about you—which is ironic, considering I’m the one living in a fucking desert doing real-life G.I. Joe type shit.

  You know I love ya. 194 days and a wake up. See you soon, munchkin.

  Ryan

  I bite my lip and try to hold back my tears. Even with his rather short emails, especially when what I write to him could be considered a novel, it makes me smile knowing he’s thinking about me when he should be worried about his own life. He truly is the best big brother a girl could ask for. Other than Karly, he’s the only person who really knows me. Even though he’s three years older than I am, we have that weird twin vibe. Everyone else thinks I’ve moved on after what happened to Karly. My freaking parents are expecting Dillon and I to announce our engagement any moment. I laugh at the thought. The idea of spending my life with him makes me feel nothing.

  Nothing.

  Not wanting to do any homework or mindlessly troll the Internet, I close the laptop and curl up on the couch. I feel alone. I always feel alone, but usually I can find things to keep me distracted and occupied. Tonight, it’s different.

  It’s the anniversary of Karly’s death.

  What can I say about her that will do her memory justice? She was the sweetest person, someone who was always there for me, ready to listen to my whining about Dillon and everything else. So close in age, we had a unique bond, and from my earliest memory we shared everything together. She was my best friend. My soul mate.

  That’s what hurts the most.

  I thought we could speak about anything, so why didn’t she confide in me that things were so bad she thought killing herself was the only option? It was so hard not to be angry with her. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but she took something from me and I’ll never forgive her for that.

  She took us.

  Aunt Marie found her. I can’t even imagine how awful that would’ve been. She hadn’t seen her all day, and when she went down to check the basement…Part of me is happy that she went home for that weekend, though. As sad as it was when she passed, in a weird way it’s comforting to know that she wasn’t in some sorority house or someplace even worse. She went in peace.

  I’ll never forget the moment I found out. I was lying on the sofa listening to music when the phone rang and my life changed forever. It was Uncle Ray, but he couldn’t speak—all he could do was cry. Mom took the phone from me and I knew. I knew it was about Karly. The police and coroner ruled it a suicide and Marie and Ray were torn apart. Karly was their only child and I can’t even begin to imagine the pain they felt that day. The funeral came together quickly since there was no autopsy—the family wanting to get Karly to her final resting place so she could be at peace. I understood that. I wanted that for Karly, too. I just can’t get over why she never tried to talk to me about what was going on with her.

  It wasn’t like it was a sudden decision. She had thought it through. If she could put so much effort into planning that, why couldn’t she have talked to me? She’d thought to write me a note, nothing long, but enough to say what’d happened to her and why she couldn’t go on. So short, in fact, that I know every word by heart, having read it time and time again.

  Zars,

  I know you’re mad at me. I wish I could tell you everything. All I can tell you is I thought he made me happy. He didn’t want our baby. Threatened me to get rid of it. It’s too much. I love you. Always have, always will. Don’t stay mad for too long. I’ll see you on the other side.

  Kar

  The only reason I know it was him who knocked her up…she’d told me a few weeks before that she was seeing a new guy. Of course, being her best friend, I’d wanted to know all about him. She’d hesitated, unsure if she should tell me, and after she had, I’d known why she wouldn’t want anyone knowing. It was her lit professor. Karly was dating a teacher. Thinking back to previous conversations, she’d mentioned that she had made a friend out of Mr. Bain. They had gotten close. A little too close.

  At first when I was trying to put together why any teacher would do this, I couldn’t figure it out. Weren’t teachers there to help and aid, not destroy their students? But the more I thought about it, the more I let it stew—it clicked. If he had been having an affair with Karly, his student, and she had told me they had been, of course he’d freak out and threaten her if she didn’t get rid of the evidence. He’d lose everything if it came out. And what better proof than a student holding an infant that’s obviously his? Two and two always equals four, no matter which way you look at it.

  I never shared the letter that Karly sent to me. Call it selfish if you want, but it was something that was meant for me and only me. If she wanted everyone to know, she would have sent them a letter as well. I wanted to keep this last little memento of her as only mine. The police would have taken it, her mom would have wanted it, and I wanted to help, but it wasn’t like Noah hung her on that rope himself. Legally, nothing would have happened to him. The affair would have been his word against hers, and since she was dead, it was just his, and he would have lied to cover his own ass.

  Over the following weeks I withdrew from everyone—even Dillon. Not that it mattered. He was so awkward around me, like he didn’t know how to act since my cousin had offed herself. That’s harsh, because she was his friend, too, but I felt abandoned by everyone. I still do. Everyone seems to have moved on from losing her, except me. How can I move on when the person responsible is still out there, behaving as though nothing has happened?

  That’s not fucking fair. It’s my job to give her death meaning—to make it right. I don’t even know if that makes any sense to anyone else but me, but it’s what keeps me going and what fuels my fire to continue with this plan. After all, she’d do the same if it were me.

  After a hot shower and a glass of the vodka Dillon kept hidden in the back of the freezer, I reach into my backpack and take out the phone bill I swiped from Noah’s man purse. Not only do I now have his address, I also have his cell number. A devious smile spreads across my face as I reach for my phone. He can’t avoid me forever.

  Me: Do you ever feel so lonely you wonder if it’s all worth it? I’m sorry, Mr. Bain. I shouldn’t be bothering you at home.

  If that doesn’t get his attention, then I don’t know what will.

  Sure enough, my phone rings almost immediately. I take a deep breath and pick it up.

  “Hello.” I answer, my voice a little deeper than usual. I’d read in a magazine once that guys like that bedroom voice or whatever it’s called. Figure now’s as good of a time as any to test that Cosmo theory.

  “Zara?” He sounds surprised.

  “I’m so sor
ry. I shouldn’t have texted you,” I mumble, feigning embarrassment. I lay back on the sofa and smile.

  “It’s fine. Are you okay? Are you hurt?” His concern sounds genuine, but then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. Karly was a great judge of character, and for her to get sucked into his web of deceit, he had to have played a good game. I’m sure he wasn’t counting on me being the better player.

  “I’m fine. I’m just missing my family, I think. It’s hard being so far away from them.”

  “I understand.” He pauses. “Where is your boyfriend?”

  I laugh. “Out. Probably hooking up with some random. But I’m sure he’ll stumble home after he fucks her.” Not a total lie, but still not the truth. From what Dillon told me about his plans for tonight, he’d be at the frat house for a party. He’s never invited me. I always assumed it was because he had some sorority bitch there he was more interested in screwing. Not that I’m upset, but maybe I wanted to go to a party, too. Oh, well, I wouldn’t be very good company tonight, plus I have some extracurricular work to attend to.

  Noah’s silent on the other end of the line. Probably trying to figure out how to digest the information I just gave him about Dillon and his skanks.

  “So, you mean to tell me that he cheats on you? And not just that, you know about it? Why the hell are you with him? He sounds like an ass.”

  “Are professors allowed to say ass?” I joke, wanting to change the subject. We should be focusing on him finding me attractive enough to risk everything for, and not him pitying me. Although I can’t rule out a pity lay just yet.

  “I’m asking as your friend,” he replies. Pfft, I think to myself, but almost let slip…Friend. My. Ass.

  “I don’t have any friends,” I mumble. I’m letting him get too close. I’m having to constantly remind myself to stay in the game. I might be young, but I already know that if you open the door too wide, even the people you don’t want in can sneak through.