Truly

by Carmel Rhodes

  The ache in my chest from losing my mother is ever-present, but I don’t think that will ever go away. Unease still fills my belly whenever I think about going off to college without Becca, or without Dad or Devin. For the first time in my life, I won’t have my safety net. It’s a terrifyingly lonely feeling and I’m only moving a couple of hours away. I can’t imagine how Mom felt moving across the country.

  I take one last look in the mirror. My lips perk up. Two bruises rest at the base of my neck, evidence of Noah’s possession. Maybe I don’t have next year figured out, but none of that matters today.

  Drying off, I wrap a towel around my chest and head back into the bedroom. Noah sits on the edge of the bed, a gift that looks like it’s been through hell and back clutched in his hand. “What’s that?” I point to the box. It’s got a pink sparkly wrap job, only it looks like he wrapped it with his feet. And the bow...I’m not sure you can even call it a bow, is more like ribbon hanging on for dear life.

  “Present number two.” He gives me his golden boy smile. The one where every tooth in his head is on display. My legs move forward because who can refuse present wielding, happy Noah?

  I settle on his lap, his hands wrap around my waist, and he holds onto me tightly, like if he doesn’t, I’ll slip away. My body melts into his. It’s grown accustomed to his possession, and maybe I have too. “You miscounted,” I say, tugging the ribbon free. “This is present number one.”

  His whiskey eyes shine and my heart flutters. “If I recall correctly, you had two orgasms this morning. That is a gift.”

  Walked right into that one. I tear into the gift with glee, tossing the paper over my shoulders, revealing a plain white gift box. The lid joins the discarded paper on the floor, and I lift the leather-bound book. The words, Into the wild we go, are embossed on the cover. I flip it open. “It’s a photo album?” My voice fills with wonder. “How did you even make this happen?”

  “Amazon Prime.” He beams at me. It’s only been a few days since Noah found out about my birthday. I hadn’t expected anything from him, especially not something so thoughtful. It’s hard to remember treehouse Noah when he’s like this. It’s hard to remember to protect my heart.

  “You didn’t have to do this.” I finger the pages, content in his arms.

  “Your mom had her journal, and because of it, you’ll always have this incredible piece of her from a time in her life when she was just figuring out who she was, who she wanted to be. I think that’s so dope. I wish I had something like that of my dad’s.” His throat bobs up and down, and I lean in to press a kiss to his Adam’s apple. “It might be a different medium, but I think you have some stories to tell too, and it would be a shame if Truly Jr. missed out on them.”

  I blink up at him with tear filled eyes. “Truly Jr.?”

  He shrugs. “Whatever we decide to call her.”

  “I love it. Thank you.” I bite, then kiss the scar on his chin, before standing. “I should probably get dressed.” The plan is to get to the park early so that we can spend as much time there as possible, so we decided to leave right after breakfast. Noah reaches under his side of the bed and pulls out another poorly wrapped pink box.

  “Present number three.” He presents this one to me with a flourish. It’s only then I notice his t-shirt says, Cute but Psycho.

  I chuckle and rip open gift number three with as much enthusiasm as I opened number two. I throw my head back in laughter, as I pull out my own t-shirt which reads, I’m With Psycho. “I take it this is what I’m wearing today?”

  “Yup.” He nods. “I wanted to get you a Jameson jersey with my name on it, but they didn’t have as quick a turnaround time, so I settled for these.” I throw my arms around his neck, not caring that the towel slips from my body. I’m so overwhelmed with gratitude that my heart feels like it’s going to burst. Noah Tedesco is a lot of things. An asshole with violent tendencies mostly, but he’s also oddly thoughtful. He remembers everything, even stuff I toss out as throwaway conversation, he stores. It’s a part of why he’s so good at manipulation, but it’s also kind of sexy.

  His mouth finds mine and he kisses me sweetly, then slaps my ass, hard. It’s a duality that I’ve come to crave. Rough and gentle. Angry and caring. Darkness and light. “What if we skipped the park and stayed in bed all day?”

  His mouth latches onto my nipple and lavishes it with attention. “As tempting as that sounds, I already bought the tickets—present number four. Not to mention, when your dad calls and asks what you did for your birthday, I don’t think he’ll want to hear about how well you took my dick.”

  I slap him in the chest. “You always have to ruin it, don’t you?”

  “You say ruin, I say make it better. Now get dressed and come down for breakfast.” He grins, flicking his tongue across my other nipple. He presses one last kiss to my lips then heads for the door. “Happy Birthday.”

  I stare down at my gifts, a ghost of a smile gracing my lips. I throw on the t-shirt with a pair of denim cutoffs and my shell toe sneakers. Before we left Newton, Becca insisted we buy fanny packs, just in case. I dig mine out of my suitcase, grateful for my over-prepared bestie. It’s just big enough to fit my wallet and phone. I opt to leave my camera in the room, not trusting myself to keep it safe while we run around an amusement park.

  One last glance around the room, and I pull the door shut behind me. My phone rings as I head down to breakfast. It’s a Newton number, one that isn’t saved, but I answer without hesitation. Dad doesn’t always have his phone on him at the hospital, so he’ll call from whatever phone is closest.

  “Hello?” I greet, sandwiching the phone between my shoulder and ear.

  “Happy Birthday, Tru.”

  My steps falter at the sound of Devin’s voice. “You remembered?” Guilt eats at the lining of my stomach. It’s more of the old Tru, the girl who would do anything for this boy. He broke up with me. He embarrassed me in front of the whole school. I shouldn’t feel sad that I’ve moved on, especially when he clearly has too, but I do. One hundred percent of the reason has to do with Noah.

  I know they hate each other. And I’m pretty sure Noah’s obsession with me started to get back at Devin, but honestly, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter where it started because the lines have become blurred. My guilt isn’t from being here with Noah, it’s because, maybe, I’m starting to feel more for him than I care to admit.

  “Of course, I remembered your birthday, Truly,” he says, sounding a lot like the boy I fell in love with. A housekeeper passes me in the hallway, and I press my back to the wall to make room for her and her cart to pass. I’m supposed to be at breakfast. I should end this call before he sours my good mood, but for whatever reason, I don’t. “Are you and him…” he starts. “Do you love him?”

  “I barely know him,” I remind him and myself. We have been thrown in this extreme situation, throw sex on top of it, and of course the feelings are heightened.

  “And yet you chose him.”

  “No, you chose to throw me away, and you chose to post that girl on your Instagram. Why am I the bad guy for choosing to move on too?”

  “Because he’s my brother.” I can’t defend that, so I don’t. “You blocked me, which I assume was his doing?”

  “A little of your doing too,” I say. Noah would be pissed at me if he knew I was even entertaining this conversation. I’m pissed at myself for it. I don’t know why there’s still a part of me that’s holding on to Devin. Maybe because I really was blindsided by our break-up. Maybe, deep down, I’m holding out hope that one of these calls will lead to an explanation. Maybe that’s naive of me, but I need closure.

  “Are you guys…” His voice cracks. “Has he…are you having sex?”

  “Are you having sex with that girl?” I turn the question around, avoiding giving him the answer.

  “Yes,” he admits and the bite of pain I felt when I saw her picture on his IG returns with a vengeance. I don’t need this. It’s my birthday
. I should be happy. So, I do the thing I should have done the moment I realized it was his voice on the other end. I hang up the phone and make my way to breakfast.

  There’s a waffle with a candle waiting for me when I enter. I smile shyly at Noah and thank him for present number five. “How many presents am I going to get today?” I ask after they sing Happy Birthday.

  “Eighteen,” he tells me tucking into his eggs. “Though I might regret setting this precedent when we’re thirty.”

  “Umm,” Becca interrupts as her tired eyes widen at my shirt. “You’re wearing matching shirts?”

  “His idea.” I point to Noah, who chews his food a little more smugly.

  Becca points a finger at his head. “She’s mine today, so back off.”

  “Not what her shirt says.”

  Becca narrows her eyes at him, and I can’t help but laugh. My phone call with Devin is becoming a distant memory. I’d expected the knowledge that he hooked up with another girl would put a damper on the rest of my day, but surprisingly, it hasn’t. It sucks, sure, but I’m with psycho.

  “Best friend trump’s boyfriend.”

  “Not what her shirt says.”

  “Do I have to?” I ask, knocking back the tiny bottle of champagne Noah smuggled into the park, present number eleven. Six was a pair of diamond earrings in the shape of a one and a five, his jersey number. Present seven was a package of Carrot Cake Oreos, since the last pack never made it out of Louisiana. Eight was the hoodie I wore to the café the morning after he took my virginity and nine was a coupon for free basketball lessons—a coupon which I’ll never cash in because sports...gross.

  I hand the bottle to Noah and he takes a swig, grimacing. “Definitely.” We’re hiding off to the side of the restrooms because I nearly pissed my pants after Noah informed me that he bought line jump passes for the biggest, scariest ride in the park—present number ten. The champagne was supposed to be for after the ride, but he figured I needed the liquid courage. “You’re the one who wanted to come here.”

  He hands the bottle back and I finish what is left of it. I know I wanted to come to Six Flags for my birthday, but I’m not really much of a thrill seeker, unless you count going on dates with rapey jocks. Either way, my Six Flags experience was mostly about over-priced food and Ferris wheels, not plunging to my death, upside down.

  “Yeah, so you could win me a teddy bear and I could ride a few water rides. Not so I can plunge to my death, only to be pulled back at the last minute.”

  He rolls his eyes at my ridiculousness. Then, because he’s Noah and hasn’t had the chance to feel me up with Becca competing for my attention, he tosses the empty champagne bottle in a nearby trash can and grabs my waist, gripping me so tightly I nearly come on the spot. I don’t know what it is about Noah grabbing me that turns my knees into mush, but my God, I love it. His strength used to scare me. In some ways, it still does, but mostly it turns me on.

  He lifts me onto my toes, bringing me a little closer to his eye line. “Live a little, Tru.” He brushes his nose against mine, and at this moment, I’ll do whatever he asks. His breath fans across my neck, sending spikes of pleasure down my spine. I need his lips on me like I need air. Turning, I angle my mouth towards his. “You want something, Little One?” The corner of his mouth tips up, like he’s pleased with my desperation.

  “Present number twelve,” I say, tracing his bottom lip with my tongue without shame. He can tease me all he wants, but we both know it’s only a matter of time before he gives in. “I want you to grab my neck with the same force you used to grab my waist,” I murmur against his throat. It bobs up and down, and it turns me on to see he’s as affected by me as I am by him. “I want you to kiss me until I forget how to breathe without you.”

  Whiskey eyes darken to onyx as his hands trail up my sides, settling around my throat. His mouth hovers over mine. “Be careful what you wish for.” Those are the last words I hear before he devours me. His mouth moves in sync with mine. His hands flex around my throat, every so often, taking my breath away, replacing it with lust and want and need.

  “Noah,” I whine, though I’m not sure for what. I just need more.

  “I know, baby.” He moves his body so that one of his strong legs is wedged between mine. I grind shamelessly on his thigh, hoping for a bit of relief. We are tucked away, off to the side of the restroom, but there is no real privacy to be found here. Anyone could find us at any moment. He takes a hand from around my neck and shoves it into the back of my loose denim shorts. His fingers are inside of me seconds later and I hiss a moan into his mouth. “God damn, Truly. You’re soaking my fucking hand.” His voice his thick, and he adds in a third finger. I can feel him lengthening between us. I rock back and forth on his thigh as his thick fingers fill me from behind. It doesn’t take long before I explode.

  My body goes slack and Noah is the only thing keeping me upright. “Thank you,” I pant, once my voice stabilizes enough for me to speak.

  Noah brings his fingers to my lips, and I open without hesitation, sucking off my arousal. “You’re still getting on the fucking roller-coaster.”

  Thankfully, I didn’t die on the rollercoaster. And for my bravery, I rewarded myself with deep-fried everything. Noah rewarded me with a stuffed Big Bird he won by dominating a game called the 3-Point Challenge. And I’m not even exaggerating when I say he dominated it. Noah made sinking three-point shots look so easy, he drew a crowd. Everyone thought they could beat his record. What they failed to realize was that Noah was offered full scholarships to play basketball at three different schools and will likely turn pro.

  No one even came close.

  He sank so many threes, the kid who ran the booth let me pick any prize I wanted. Naturally, I chose the obnoxious yellow bird and we had to take turns lugging it around the park for the rest of the day.

  As promised, Noah delivered eighteen presents, some extravagant, like the earrings, and some thoughtful, like the photo album, while others were kinky, like the cowboy hat he wore while he fucked me that night. All of them held special meaning.

  We load up the car after waffles the next morning, and since the diary’s next stop isn’t until Nevada, Becca and I decide to let the boys choose where we go next. Ethan Googled fishing holes, so now we are heading into the heart of Texas to stay at a roadside motel that, judging by the pictures online, looks like something from a Hitchcock film.

  We ride through a small town that looks like it belongs in a teenage football drama. The kind of place where football is king, sweet tea is the beverage of choice, and you aren’t sure if the bless your heart lobbed at you is a compliment or an insult. So far, the only landmarks I recognize are Wal-Mart, McDonalds, and Exxon. Actually, if you sub out football for basketball, it’s a lot like Newton.

  Becca rolls the car to a stop in front of a motel with a wagon wheel and a broken vacancy sign that simply reads: O VCAN.

  “It looks...like the pictures.” She pushes on her cheer smile. The one that’s tight around the edges and fake as fuck.

  “That isn’t a good thing. I bet I’m the only black person in this whole town.” I stare at the dilapidated building that resembles something from American Horror Story. Welp, I’ve made it to eighteen. I had a good run.

  “You guys are being dramatic.” The car door squeaks as Ethan opens it. “It’s charming and they have great fishing here.”

  “Are we still doing that?” Becca groans.

  “The whole point of this stop was so that we could go fishing.” Ethan rolls his eyes at his girlfriend. “Plus, there’s kayaking and hiking. It will be great, trust me.”

  “I’m not exactly outdoorsy,” Becca says, fluffing her blonde hair to prove a point. Neither am I. I grew up in Chicago. The closest thing to outdoorsy that I’ve ever gotten was that time in sixth grade when I went to a 4-H day camp with my science class.

  “Don’t worry, babe, I got you.” Ethan grins, leaning over to press a kiss onto her lips before he exits the c
ar.

  She grumbles a little more, but all the fight is gone from her tone as she files out after him so that they can go check-in.

  I get out to stretch my legs. Noah comes around, pressing his lips to mine. “Don’t tell Becca, but Ethan has a whole camping thing planned for tomorrow.”

  “Ugh,” I groan. Suddenly the Bates Motel is looking a lot better. I tell him about my disastrous time in sixth grade and he laughs at my expense. “It isn’t funny, and if you think I’m putting worms on hooks, you’re sorely mistaken.”

  “I’ll bait your rod, but it will cost you.” His hands slip into the pockets of my newly acquired Jameson Men’s Basketball hoodie, and he pulls me into his chest.

  “I can pay in sexual favors.”

  If you would have told me at the beginning of the year I’d be in the middle of nowhere Texas flirting with Noah Tedesco, I would have keeled over laughing from the impossibility of it. Now, though, we’re here and I can’t seem to stop smiling at his stupidly perfect face.

  My fingers twitch, and the urge to touch him burns bright in my body, so I do. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I tug him closer to me. He comes without hesitation. His hands slip from my hoodie and he cups my ass.

  “I’m fucking you either way,” he tells me pressing his lips to mine. When he kisses me, I feel seen. I feel cherished, like I am the center of his universe. Which is insane. He is Noah freaking Tedesco. Mr. Perfect. People treat him as if he hung the moon, yet here he is, spending his summer chasing me around the country, filling me with his all-consuming kisses, marking me as his. Pulling me further and further under his spell with each passing day. It’s dangerous to let myself get so wrapped up in him, but when his mouth is on mine, when his hands are on me, it’s hard not to lose myself in his orbit.

  My tongue twists and tangles with his as he lifts me onto the hood of the car, his big body occupying the space between my legs. I claw at his shoulders and pull him closer, needing more, desperate to feel him inside of me.