Truly

by Carmel Rhodes

  The call goes silent. Dad blinks no less than six times, then pinches the bridge of his nose. “I should have known we hadn’t seen the last of you.”

  Noah smiles proudly. “I’m persistent.”

  “I see.” Dad’s gaze narrows in on me, and it’s only now that I realize I’m still wearing Noah’s hoodie. “Everyone remembers that I know how to use a scalpel, correct?”

  “Yes, sir.” Noah chuckles.

  “Alright, well I’ll let you kids get back to whatever it is that you’re doing.” His face contours in disgust. “Never mind…just…bye.”

  I want to die. No, actually, I want Noah to die...painfully. “I love you, Daddy.”

  “Love you too, baby girl. I’m watching you, Tedesco.”

  We end the call and I turn to Noah, pushing against his chest. “Just once, I’d like you to respect a boundary I set. Just one.”

  “Just once, I’d like you to smile at me like you smile at him and tell me good morning, Daddy.” He grins, rubbing a finger across the scar on his chin.

  “I’m being serious.” I don’t know why this particular issue is the one I choose to push when there is a mountain of shit we need to work through, but maybe that is the reason. This one actually feels surmountable. Start small, like a mustard seed. “You can’t keep stomping all over my boundaries and expect me to lay down and take it.”

  “He wasn’t mad.” Noah tucks a few braids behind my ear and rests his forehead against mine. He never fights fair. It’s only ever with brute strength or overwhelming affection. Sometimes, I think I prefer when he overpowers me. It’s easier to blame him.

  “That’s not the point. I asked you not to, and you did. You always take, but you never give.” Though the fight is gone from my voice, I’m not letting this go. Even when he hauls me across his lap and I snuggle into his neck.

  “I gave you—”

  I cut him off, biting the spot just to the left of his Adam’s apple. “If you say orgasms, I swear to God, I’m switching rooms.”

  Flipping us over, he pushes my back into the mattress, straddles me, and pins my arms above my head. “You’re frustrating as shit,” he whispers against my lips. He smells sweet, like the beignets. My tongue darts out to taste. I suck his plush bottom lip into my mouth, tugging on it with my teeth. He isn’t the only one who can fight with affection.

  “Me? Pot meet kettle.”

  “I’m sorry.” His lips trail down the column of my throat. “I like pushing you. I don’t know why, but I do.”

  “Yeah, right over a cliff,” I mutter, relishing in the feel of his mouth on me. Only Noah can make me want to kill him and kiss him at the same time.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Like I’m trapped in a room with a psychopath.”

  “I don’t mean emotionally.” He grinds his hips and his erection digs into my belly. “I mean your pussy.”

  “Sore from your porn dick.” I bite my lip, trying to focus on my fleeting anger, because that thing he’s doing with his tongue is distracting as hell.

  “Good.”

  “You like me in pain,” I say. It’s more of an observation than anything, because obviously.

  “I only like you in pain when I’m the one inflicting it. I like knowing that every time you move, you’re reminded of me.” Fingertips ghost down my sternum, leaving a trail of raised skin in their wake.

  “So, I take it to mean you’re about to hurt me some more?” Moisture pools between my legs. Is that what I want, for him to hurt me? Or has he just confused my body into responding to the pain he inflicts?

  His lips brush mine. “No, I’m going to make you feel good.” He lifts his shirt over his head, and my eyes can’t help but stare at his back muscles as he moves down my body. There is a jagged scar that runs down the right side of his ribcage. How have I never noticed it before? He peels my panties down and off in one quick motion.

  “Noah,” I reach down to stop him, still not entirely comfortable with him being face to face with my most intimate parts, especially in the light of day.

  “This is my pussy, Truly. I’ll eat it whenever the fuck I want.” The fight dies on my lips with the first swipe of his tongue. Hot and wet, he laps at my core as if I’m the best thing he’s eaten in months.

  I melt into the mattress. My eyes blink shut, and I give in, knowing this is a battle I can’t win. So, I don’t bother fighting. His mouth feels like heaven on my sore pussy. He licks and sucks every inch of me.

  I’m so close to the edge when he crawls back up my body. I brace myself, thinking he’s about to fuck me, when the heavy head of his cock hits my clit. A shudder rips through me. “Fuck,” I pant, grinding myself up against his cock. He slips and slides through my wetness. The sensation drives me to the edge. He hits my clit again and again and again until I’m a shaking, shuddering mess.

  “Good girl,” he praises, kissing my nose. He fists his cock, pumping it back and forth, faster and faster. He grunts and stills as warm ropes of cum splashes across my pussy. He drops his head and his dick moves through my folds once more as he smears the cream in, pushing the tip in just slightly, before pulling back out. “I’m sorry for interrupting the call with your dad,” he murmurs, slapping my pussy with his dick once more. Before I have a chance to respond, he gets up and makes his way into the bathroom, leaving me half-naked and oddly happy.

  It’s a win. Small, but I’ll take it.

  “Can’t we go bowling in Newton?” Ethan asks, slipping on a pair of ugly bowling shoes. Balls crash into pins. Pins crash onto the hardwood. Children laugh out loud and for these few fleeting moments, life doesn’t feel so big.

  We spent the day roaming around the French Quarter. The boys found a basketball court and played a pick-up game while Becca and I cheered from the sidelines. We had lunch at a super touristy restaurant, paid twice as much for food we could have gotten elsewhere, but we did spot the celebrity chef who owns the place, so it was totally worth it.

  I took a million pictures.

  This city has stolen my heart. It isn’t just the history, it’s the people. It’s in their resilience...in their spirit. Nearly fifteen years later, and many of them are still feeling the aftereffects of Katrina. They possess a strength that I envy. They have faith that though things might not always be perfect, they will always persevere.

  I’m pretty sure that’s why my mom loved it here so much. And as I spent the day snapping pictures of old buildings and beautiful brown people with tired faces and content souls, I fell in love too.

  Becca laces her shoe. “After last night’s shitshow, I figured we could use some calm. Plus.” She lifts the pitcher of beer. “This way we can have fun and keep Mr. Tedesco from getting thrown in jail for punching boys who get too close to Tru.”

  Noah lifts his plastic cup in agreement. His brown eyes twinkle with amusement, as if last night was a distant memory he’s recalling fondly. The night did end with him taking my virginity, which has been the number one item on his to do list since graduation, so I suppose in some ways, it is a fond memory for him.

  For me, I’m not so sure. There’s a part of my brain—a small, nagging little section of self-doubt—that makes me wonder if he’ll lose interest now that he’s fucked me? And if he does, how would that make me feel? Stupid for liking him, despite the million reasons not to? Or would I be relieved to not have the constant war raging in my head? He’d prove himself to be the bad guy, and I could move on. Start fresh in college and forget all about my summer with Noah.

  “Okay, Bec, you’re up first,” Ethan says after inputting our names in the monitor. Becca grabs a sparkly pink ball and prances up to the lane.

  Noah drops his arm around my shoulder, kissing my forehead. Despite myself and my worries, I tilt my head back, offering him more than a forehead kiss. His gaze drops to my mouth seconds before his lips land there. He starts gently, peppering my mouth with tiny pecks. A calloused hand cups my cheek, and I shiver at the connection. His touch, both th
e gentle caresses and the punishing ones, affects me in ways I didn’t expect. Like the butterflies in my belly are hopped up on a heady combination of excitement laced with fear.

  My lips part as he licks his way into my mouth. The hand on my cheek drops to the base of my neck, and he deepens the kiss. Just like that, I’m consumed by his fire. The world melts away, and it’s just him and me alone in our own little bubble. Things don’t fit neatly into boxes, but that’s okay, because life is messy and people are not all good or all bad or all brave or all naive.

  “You’re being awfully sweet today,” I murmur against his mouth, as Becca hurls the ball straight into the gutter.

  He pulls me onto his lap. “I told you I can be nice.”

  Leaning into his ear, I whisper, “Yeah, and then you shoved your cock in my mouth.”

  He chuckles darkly and bops me on the nose. “It was one time. Get over it.”

  My jaw drops open and my eyebrows shoot to my hairline. I’m about to dump my beer on the asshole’s head when Becca bounces over. “Your turn, Tru.”

  Noah swats my ass as I make my way to the rack and snag a ball without checking the size and roll it down the lane. Three pins fall and I grab another ball, the pink one that Becca used, and toss it down, then head back to my seat without checking to see the results.

  “You suck at this.” Noah throws his head back and laughs. “Like badly.”

  “I take the pictures. You do the sports.”

  “Deal,” he says, pulling me back down onto his lap. He nuzzles into my neck and I can’t help the contented sigh that escapes me.

  “Oh my God,” Becca squeals, slapping Ethan’s phone from his hand. “You two are so fucking cute.”

  “Cute? Do you not remember last night?” Ethan pockets his device and stands to take his turn.

  We fall into an easy rhythm, laughing and bowling and drinking cheap beer. One game ends—Noah bested Ethan by six pins—and another begins.

  Using my phone, I snap a picture of Noah watching his ball as it glides down the lane with the grace of a professional. It seriously isn’t fair. The man is good at everything. I think for a split second before uploading the picture to Instagram with the caption, Mr. Perfect, which earns me a kiss and a booty rub when Noah sees it.

  “You’ve both posted each other. It’s IG official.” Becca points out, dumping the remaining beer into her cup. “Next up, marriage and babies.”

  “You’re insane.” I giggle, punch drunk and a little drunk-drunk. Noah and I have a toxic relationship at best. At worst, we’ll end up killing each other. “Speaking of babies.” I lean into Noah’s side and drop my voice a few octaves. “You’ve come in or around my vagina twice now without even mentioning protection, but just so you know, we’re good.”

  His jaw ticks and the hand that was resting gently on my thigh tightens. “I’ve seen your pills. I just prefer to pretend they don’t exist.”

  “Why?” I ask, confused as to how me—the daughter of a doctor who spent over a year working at a free clinic—being on birth control is an issue.

  “Because you being on them means you thought about fucking him, and that’s a mental image I’d need brain bleach to clean.”

  A deep and unattractive snort tears from my throat. He is making it sound like me wanting to have sex with my boyfriend makes me some kind of whore when in actuality, it’s having sex with him that’s tarnishing my soul. “He was my boyfriend. We were in a relationship, something that you’ve known about since before you and I were ever anything. So, it’s really fucked up for you to try to shame me for it now.”

  “There goes our calm night,” Ethan mutters, once again fiddling with his phone.

  “Whatever, I’m getting more beer.” I snatch the empty pitcher from the table and storm off towards the concession stand. Devin is a sore spot for Noah—I get it. It was the same with Devin, but what I don’t understand and what I won’t accept is him making me feel bad for a past that I can’t change.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out. Devin’s face flashes on the screen. I glance around, checking to make sure Noah isn’t near. I was supposed to block him. I am going to, I just haven’t gotten around to it yet. And since I’m pissed off at Noah and drunk off cheap beer, I answer against my better judgment.

  “Hello?”

  “He’s with you?” I stay quiet because lying would be pointless. I knew posting the picture would risk Devin finding out about Noah crashing our trip, but I figured since he’d so clearly moved on, he didn’t care. “What the fuck, Truly? My fucking brother?”

  I hold my phone away from my ear, cringing at the volume of his voice. He’s never raised his voice at me, ever, and I’m unprepared for the guilt that shoots through my chest.

  “It’s not what you think.” Which is lame at best. Whatever he thinks can’t be worse than the truth. I’m having sex with a man who hurt me because I like the way he looks and I’m too weak to tell him to back off. “He and Ethan crashed our road trip.”

  “Your girls’ trip with Becca? The one you said I wasn’t allowed to come on because it was just supposed to be you and her? You just let him crash? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “You left me, you moved on. Why is it so bad that I move on too?”

  “Seriously, Truly. Stay the fuck away from Noah.”

  “Why? Why do you two hate each other so much?”

  “It’s...complicated. He’s not a good guy.”

  The anger I felt earlier returns with a vengeance and boils hot in my belly. All either of them can ever say to me is stay away without ever giving me a reason. Like I’m supposed to just follow them blindly into the fucking storm without an umbrella. They take and take and give nothing in return.

  “It must be genetic,” I spit before hitting end on the call. I turn to get back in line and run into the wall of muscle that is Noah’s chest.

  He looks me up and down, his eyes zeroing in on my phone. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That was him, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” I lift my chin in defiance.

  “I told you to block him.”

  I tap my screen a few times pulling up Devin’s contact information and hit block without hesitation. “Done.”

  The line moves forward and we move with it. Noah’s hand slips into my back pocket and his shoulders sag. “That was easier than I expected. He must have pissed you off.”

  “Yeah,” I murmur, meeting his gaze. “It must be genetic.”

  “So, what are we doing for your birthday?” Becca pushes a shopping cart down the health and beauty aisle of Target. It’s our last night in New Orleans and we decided it would be smarter to stock up on supplies before our next leg. It’s an odd balance, figuring out what items are necessary and what things are extra. When we left Newton, I was on team minimalist because I didn’t want my bag to be too heavy. But now that the boys are here, all bets are off. The very least they can do is carry our shit.

  “We should be in Texas by then,” I tell her, reading the ingredients on the back of a conditioner bottle. “Mom spent her birthday with a cowboy, but I’m pretty sure Noah would have a problem with that, so I was thinking Six Flags.”

  Becca shoots me a salacious grin. “God, your mom sounds totally badass. I wish I could have met her, but plan B sounds fun too.”

  “What’s plan B?” Ethan asks, tossing a bottle of mouthwash into the cart. He and Noah wandered off while we were looking at makeup. I’d thought we’d lost them, but I should have known they’d be back just as soon as we moved on. It’s like Noah has a tracking device on my ass. A thought that I find both worrisome and comforting at the same time.

  “Yeah,” Noah says, adding in his body wash and some sort of antifungal foot cream to the buggy. “What‘s plan B?”

  I lift the cream and a brow. “I guess this finally proves it, the great Noah Tedesco isn’t perfect after all.”

  “Calm down. Jackass. It’s preventative.
All these strange showers. You can never be too careful. Plus, that’s not what you were saying last night...or this morning.” He scowls at me. His hair flops into his eyes and his pouty lips push out. If I didn’t know the man beneath the mask, I’d swoon over how fucking adorable he is, rotten feet and all.

  “I didn’t know you needed fungus cream last night,” I clip back, as he slips his hand into the back pocket of my shorts. I lift on my toes and playfully bite the scar on his chin. “...or this morning.”

  Becca wrinkles her nose. “Can you guys please refrain from sex jokes? I’d like to remember my sweet, virginal friend for a little while longer.”

  Noah snorts, pulling me even closer. Whenever I’m around, he has to touch me. It doesn’t matter if we’re in the middle of a Target or in the middle of nowhere. If I’m there, his hands are on me, dictating my every move. It’s like he’s the sun, and I’m trapped in his orbit. I often worry about flying too close, then I remember he’s already burned me. I doubt it could get any worse. “Trust me, she’s no longer virginal, but continue. What were we talking about before I was foot shamed?”

  “Tru’s birthday,” Becca states as we make our way to the snack aisle.

  Noah looks down at me as if I betrayed him. “When’s your birthday?”

  “June eighteenth,” I say, motioning for Becca to grab the Carrot Cake Oreos that I may or may not have an unhealthy addiction too. I used to say they were better than sex. Now that I’ve had sex, I’ll have to come up with a better analogy.

  Noah spins me around to face him, demanding my full attention. “When were you gonna tell me?”

  “Hey, Noah, my birthday is June eighteenth.” I deadpan.

  “You’re an asshole.” He swats my ass. “What are we gonna do to celebrate?”

  “Tru wants to go to Six Flags,” Becca tells him.

  “That could be fun.” Noah chews on the idea for a bit. I watch as the wheels in his brain spin.

  “I don’t want to make a big deal out of it,” I say even though I know it’s pointless. There are a few things I’ve learned about Noah since he forced his way into my life with a sledgehammer. One: if he gets something in his mind, there’s no point in trying to stop him. B: he’ll do just about anything for me, aside from leave me alone. I don’t know if it’s because he feels guilty about the treehouse or if he actually does care, but I’m pretty sure if I asked him to do the hokey pokey wearing a pink tutu, he’d do it. Then he’d wrap the tutu around my neck and fuck me senseless for asking in the first place.