Breaking Noah

by Missy Johnson

  “It’s okay. I know. You kinda like me,” she says, smirking.

  “That I do. We just can’t have that kind of relationship.”

  “I’m pretty sure that as two consenting adults, we’re able to make that decision for ourselves. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to fly a banner that says we want each other, but giving our bodies what they crave…that seems like the most logical thing to do.”

  Neither one of us says anything further. She rushes out the door, leaving me alone in my office, wondering if there was any truth to what she said. Can we really make something work?

  No. Hell, no. We’re both in other relationships, and the most obvious factor is: I’m her teacher. It’s improper. Immoral. I could be fired for the thought alone. I have to find a way to put a stop to this. Find a way to control myself.

  Checking my email before I leave for the day, I notice one from my mother. I debate opening that can of worms, but my curiosity gets the best of me. It’s been two years since she’s contacted me, this ought to be good.

  My Dearest Noah,

  Hello, son. It’s been a while since we’ve spoken, but I have a request. Your father has been selected by the Alumni Association to receive the Alum of the Year Award. There’s going to be a party in his honor since he’s accepting this evening. They’ve asked if the entire family can attend. Of course, I RSVP’d for all of us. I put you down for a plus-one, so please bring Samantha. We’d love to see her.

  I look forward to seeing you, Noah. I truly miss you.

  Best,

  Gertrude

  What kind of mother signs her emails with her name and not Mom, Mommy, or even Mother? And I really love being given next to no notice. I should say no to make her think I have a life, but that would just add ammunition to an already heated war. As much as the idea of spending quality time with Gertrude pains me, I should go and be there for my father. And whoever Samantha is, I’ll bring her, too. I’m sure she means Shannon, but what’s the point of correcting her? It’s just going to go in one ear and out the other.

  I type out a quick reply. And by quick, I mean it in the literal sense.

  G—

  OK.

  Noah

  I’m going to need another three years of therapy after this visit. Here’s hoping for an open bar and all the whiskey I can drown myself in to get through this night.

  I quickly book a hotel room for them, knowing damn well Gertrude will have something snide to say about my apartment and the guest room. They’ve never been to my apartment and I’d like to keep it that way. A decade of your parents fighting like boxing heavyweights has the ability to ruin even the best of memories. Their damn house is tainted, and if I brought them through my front door, there’s a good chance our relationship would be doomed.

  On the other hand…

  No. Even the sanest of men couldn’t handle that kind of pressure.

  —

  As soon as I get home, I tell Shannon about our plans to have dinner with my parents. She’s excited. She has no reason not to be. I’ve never told her about the hell that I grew up in, and I never will. That’s my cross to bear.

  Shannon rushes through getting ready and I change quickly into a pair of black slacks, a matching collared shirt, and a light blue tie. Shannon steps out of the bathroom looking exquisite after only twenty minutes. Her dark brown hair is pinned high on her head with curls dripping down, lips painted a deep shade of plum that perfectly matches her knee-length dress. When she puts on her silver heels she’s nearly my height of six feet.

  “Ready,” she says, obviously proud of herself. I pull her waist-length jacket from the closet and offer it to her. After she slips her arms inside, I grab the keys and we’re out the door and driving the few miles to the Northwestern University Alumni Association dinner.

  As soon as we step into the banquet facility, we see my parents at the coat check. I try to avoid eye contact, silently begging for a few more moments of peace, but my mother spots me almost immediately.

  “Noah. Darling,” she says with her fake southern accent. I mean, seriously, she was raised near Chicago and has never left Illinois in her entire life. There’s no reason she should sound like she’s from the heart of Alabama.

  “Mother,” I respond, my tone cool and unimpressed. “You remember Shannon.”

  “I do, sweetheart.” Gertrude turns her attention from me to my date, taking her hands and holding them out wide. “You look stunning. Absolutely beautiful.” Then the focus is back on me. I should have known it was coming. “You need to make an honest woman out of this girl, Noah. Didn’t we raise you with any manners?”

  “I’m assuming that’s a rhetorical question,” I mutter under my breath, gaining me a chuckle from my father. “Dad, it’s good to see you.” I put my hand out for a shake, but he declines, pulling me in for a hug.

  “I’ve missed you, son. I know your mother’s a bit of a flake, but don’t forget about your old man, all right?”

  “I’ll try. Maybe you could get permission from the warden for a little yard time next weekend. We’ll go to the Northwestern game on Saturday or watch an NFL game at the bar on Sunday.”

  “Son, one thing I need to tell you about marriage: There’s no yard time. It’s couple time. Quality time. But no alone time. Think about that before marrying this one. She reminds me of your mother when we met. Beautiful, outgoing, friendly, and then you say those vows and it’s all gone,” he jokes. Or maybe he’s serious, but I take his advice to heart. One of the many reasons I don’t want to marry Shannon. She really does remind me of my mother sometimes.

  “That’s fine, Dad. We’ll find something to do that won’t cause a wave in the ocean.”

  Two hours, a crappy catered dinner, watered-down drinks from the open bar, and my father’s award speech later, we’re standing back at the coat check, ready to leave for the night. I let my father know the hotel they’re staying at and grab Shannon’s things. The valet pulls my car around and Shannon and I are on our way home.

  For the first time in fifteen years, I survived a dinner with my parents without wanting to murder someone. It’s a pretty good feeling. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to spend this much time with both of them for at least another two years, but it was actually nice.

  Chapter 7

  Zara

  “What are you doing, you idiot?” Karly laughs and tosses a pillow at my head.

  “I’m making sure I pass this damn exam,” I mutter. “I told you, I’m not going out tonight. If I fail, then no college.” I narrow my eyes at her and grin. “Which means no parties. I may as well give up and get a job at Chick-fil-A.”

  “Oh my God, sometimes I wonder if we’re actually related.” She giggles, tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder. “Well, I’m going. And if you won’t go with, I’ll make Dillon take me.”

  “Great idea.” I stand up and take her arm, pushing her out of her room. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” I sing, winking at her.

  “That doesn’t rule out much.” She giggles as I give her the finger.

  —

  I’m drenched in sweat as I sit up in bed. Glancing at the clock, I see that it’s one in the afternoon. I’ve been asleep for nearly ten hours and I dreamed about her. I haven’t done either of those in months.

  Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I reach for the glass of water that sits on my bedside table and take a sip. My mouth is dry and my heart is pounding. God, I miss her. There were so many things I wish I’d done. Little things, like spend more time with her. Maybe I could’ve stopped her…stopped it before it went too far.

  The thing about Karly was she was all in or nothing. Her love of life was contagious, and in the last few weeks I’d watched that drain away. I’d told myself I’d be there for her after my exams, but maybe if I’d made more of an effort…

  I wipe away my tears and reach for the phone. I’m surprised to see I have a message, and even more shocked at the wave of pleasure
that ripples through me. I hate that I’m finding myself looking forward to that familiar ping of my phone. I hate that I genuinely enjoy hearing from him, because I know he is not the man that I see. He’s the monster who took my cousin from me, and I need to remember that.

  I read his text.

  Noah: Pride and Prejudice is being performed at the theater over in Lamten tonight. You should get Dillon to take you.

  I snort at the idea of Dillon doing anything for me. Everything was about him, and I was fine with that, because it gave me time to do my own thing. Like Noah.

  Me: LOL, like he would ever agree to that. If it’s not football or drinking, he’s not interested. You could take me? We are friends, right?

  Noah: Sure. Sounds like fun. I’ll meet you there at seven?

  Me: Can you pick me up? Not sure my car can make it up there.

  It wasn’t a complete lie, but my intentions have nothing to do with the reliability of my car. Him driving me meant extra time with him. Alone.

  Noah: Okay. I’ll pick you up at six.

  At five to six, a horn beeps outside. Dillon glances up from the sofa, his eyes glazed. I roll my eyes. Not even six and he’s drunk already. Give me a break. He’s taking this “It’s five o’clock somewhere” game a little too far. His liver is gonna be pissed when he’s an old man.

  “Where are you going?” he mumbles, focusing back on the game.

  “Out with a friend. I won’t be late.” If he paid any attention to me at all, he’d know that I didn’t have friends. Nobody came over. I wasn’t on my phone all the time. I never really left unless it was for a class. Excellent observation skills, Dillon. Batting a thousand.

  He shrugs and I head for the door, knowing that will be the extent of our conversation. I’m shocked. It’s fifty percent more than I usually get from him.

  I notice Noah staring at me as I strut to the car. I look hot, and I’d wanted to. I’d spent close to two hours making sure I’d look perfect for him. My long hair is lightly curled so it tumbles over my shoulders. I’m wearing a strapless red chiffon dress that hugs my curves and sits just above the knee.

  Opening the door, I slide into the seat and flash him a grin.

  “I’m excited. I haven’t been out like this in months.”

  “Really?” He looks surprised. “Then your boyfriend is a fuckwit. If I were him, I’d be parading you everywhere.” I cock my eyebrow and he flushes. “I didn’t mean—”

  “You’re saying I scrub up okay?” I tease.

  “You know you do,” he shoots back, his eyes narrowing. He glances down at his pressed shirt and tight-fitting jeans. “I feel underdressed next to you.”

  “You look nice. Sexy, even.” My smile widens as color spreads across his cheeks.

  “We better go,” he mumbles.

  The drive to Lamten is a good forty-five minutes, but we fill the time easily by getting to know each other better.

  “You don’t have a lot of friends,” he comments. He doesn’t say it in a nasty way, but it hits a nerve. He’s figured out in a few weeks something that Dillon still doesn’t know after a year.

  I had the only friend I needed until you took her away.

  I shrug. “I guess it’s from moving my entire life. I’m so used to being uprooted that it’s easier not to get attached to people, if that makes sense.”

  “Makes plenty of sense,” he replies. One hand grips the steering wheel and the other rests casually in his lap. “You get on well with your family?”

  My throat tightens as I think about Karly. I nod, forcing myself to smile.

  “We’re just like most families, I guess. I love my parents, but they can be a little overbearing at times. I get on really well with my brother. He’s a marine, so I don’t get to see him all that often. He emails when he can, though. What about you? Any brothers or sisters?” I ask brightly, keen to get the spotlight off me.

  My relationship with my parents can be broken into two eras. Pre-Karly and post-Karly. Before she died I had a great relationship with them. Mom especially. We had that kind of bond where I could tell her anything, and I usually did. We’d sit up half the night talking about boys, school…everything.

  After Karly’s death, I changed. I became very withdrawn, even more than I usually was, and my parents didn’t know how to deal with that. The more I focused on her death, the more strained things became. Her death affected the whole family. Mom and Dad stopped talking to my aunt and uncle, family gatherings became a thing I avoided. Anything that reminded me of how happy I once was made me angry and bitter.

  “Only child.” He grins, interrupting my thoughts. He takes the next turn off the main road, toward the theater. “My folks are very…” He pauses for a moment. “Vocal about what they want from me, and I’m expected to follow that. I come from a pretty wealthy upbringing with a lot of rules and not so much love. You can imagine how disappointing my becoming a teacher was for them.”

  “Really?” I say. I’m surprised, because he doesn’t exude the rich-kid vibe. “They had bigger and better things in mind?”

  “Exactly.” He turns to me briefly, his blue eyes twinkling. “Dad is a surgeon and Mom is a lawyer. Teaching isn’t a grand enough profession for them. I might as well have told them I was dropping out of school to become a porn star. But I was determined to do something I loved and not go through life wondering.”

  “That’s a great attitude to have,” I murmur. I turn and glance out the window, watching the trees fly past us. I admire the strength standing up to his parents like that must have taken.

  Pulling into a spot just outside the theater, I reach for my door handle and feel Noah’s hand on mine. “Wait just a second. It’s only fitting, if you’re all dressed up like this, to allow me to treat you how a lady this beautiful should be treated.” My stomach flutters and I shouldn’t be feeling the things I’m feeling. In all my life, even when I’d gone to prom, my date never had bothered to be a gentleman, and now here I am, with a man that I loathe, being excited about a simple gesture.

  “Okay,” I whisper through the lump in my throat. Noah exits the car, walks around the front, opens my door, and extends his hand. I take it, a spark shooting straight into my core when we touch, and he helps me out of the car. Smoothing down the fabric of my dress, I glance at him, then at the ground, finally settling on the theater.

  There is a large crowd waiting outside the doors. I glance at my watch and see we’re about half an hour early.

  Noah sees my smile and laughs.

  “I guess it’s better than being a half-hour late, right?” He nods toward a little restaurant opposite the theater. “Feel like a coffee? We can wait for the crowd to dissipate a little bit.”

  “Good idea.” I grin. I reach for his hand, entwining his fingers in mine. His body tenses and I’m sure I feel him jump. “Sorry,” I grimace. “Habit.” If he can take me by surprise, I can do the same. I like it better this way. I’ve never been a fan of even playing fields. I’m more of an in-control kind of girl.

  “Dillon actually holds your hand? I’m impressed.” He chuckles.

  “More of a case of me holding his.” Total bullshit. I think the last time we held hands was at the beginning of our relationship—back when he was still trying to get in my pants. Now I couldn’t care less if he touched me at all. This was just another opportunity to mess with Noah that I wasn’t willing to pass up.

  We walk into the diner and choose a booth toward the back. Considering the sheer number of people here for this play, the place is surprisingly empty. We sit opposite each other as the waitress strolls over with a bored look on her face.

  “What can I get ya?” She sighs, tapping her pen on the notepad impatiently.

  “Maybe a menu to start with?” Noah suggests, a grin creeping across his face.

  She rolls her eyes dramatically and points to the front counter, where a stack of menus sit.

  “You were supposed to get one on your way in.” The words roll off her to
ngue as if we’ve completely ruined her night. I smother a giggle as she just stands there, staring at us.

  “Guess I’ll go get them, then,” Noah says. He raises his eyebrows at me and I snort, earning me a glower from…I squint at her nametag. Anya.

  “So, it’s pretty quiet tonight, huh?” I say, trying to fill the awkward silence. Noah slides back into his seat and pushes a laminated menu across the table to me.

  “You ready yet?” she presses, ignoring my question.

  “Sure. I’ll have a black coffee.” She scribbles it down and turns to Noah.

  “Same,” he says. She snatches up the menus and stomps off, leaving Noah and me in disbelief. “With staff like her I have no idea why they’re struggling,” he jokes.

  “Yeah, total shocker.” I giggle, resting my arms on the table. My heart races as his hands cover mine, the unexpected gesture throwing me off. I jerk my hand away, then reach for my phone in a poor attempt to cover up my embarrassment.

  “Sorry,” he mutters awkwardly. “I didn’t mean…” He shakes his head and laughs. “Hell, I don’t know what the hell I meant.”

  “It’s cool, I just wasn’t expecting it.” I smile, forcing myself to make eye contact as I move my hand across the table. I’m going to need him to stop acting like a gentleman really quick. The conflicting emotions are confusing, and I need to be clearheaded.

  This isn’t part of the plan. My body reacting like this is not supposed to happen. The more time we spend together, the more I find myself doubting whether I have the strength to pull this whole thing off.

  “Don’t be sorry.” He toys with my ring, sliding it back and forth on my finger. “This whole thing is so outside my comfort zone it’s not funny.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, slipping my fingers into his grasp. He looks up and holds my gaze, uncertainty wavering in his expression.

  “You. Me.” He laughs. “God, I’m doing things I never thought I’d do. You have this way of making me want to completely abandon everything I know and go with my heart. I tell myself over and over again that I can’t think of you as anything other than my student, and then I feel like there’s no use trying. I’m not going to be able to be the strong one here.” He shakes his head, smiling at our waitress as she sets our drinks down on the table.