by Rae, Nikita
“What?” I ask, laughing, slightly nervous under his intense scrutiny.
“Oh, nothing. I was just wondering what you were doing for Christmas break?”
I remember Brandon’s promise to come back to the city and I make a mental note to contact the owner of the apartment to see if it will be free. “Not much. Just hanging out with my uncle again. What about you?”
“I’m going to be on placement.”
“Over the break?” Our coffee arrives and I free-pour an unhealthy amount of sugar into the bitter black liquid. Noah raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything about my sweet tooth.
“Yeah, my Uni back in London would only let me stay two semesters if I completed my placement alongside my time here. Means I have to sacrifice baby Jesus’ birthday party, but that’s okay. I’ve never been one for Christmas.”
“Huh. You’ve clearly never done Christmas in New York.” I stir my coffee until I’m sure I’m not going to get a mouthful of un-dissolved sugar, and then take a deep draught. “So where are you completing your placement?”
Noah opens his mouth and lets out a laugh that sounds a little nervous. “Uh…Africa.”
“What? I thought you were interning at a paper or something! Africa? Why?”
“I figured before I came here that since I was gaining an international education I might as well make it really interesting. I organized to go and work for a not for profit agency in Sierra Leone reporting on the conflict.”
“But…” that’s dangerous, I want to say. Then again, from what he said about his childhood, Noah’s used to finding himself in dangerous places. I raise my eyebrows and hold my coffee mug out to him. He chinks it with his own. “Kudos to you for doing something important instead of signing up to sling caffeine at the New York Times.”
He laughs. “They wouldn’t have me. Heard I made bad coffee.”
Our food arrives and we make small talk, Noah occasionally tapping me with his foot under the table, trying to keep his face straight while he pretends he hasn’t done anything. I somehow manage to adlib my responses to the questions he asks me about my family, sticking to the truth as much as I can: my mother lives in New York too, but we don’t get on; my uncle raised me the past four years; my passion for journalism comes from hard lessons learned in the past; my father is dead.
He tells me about his family back in Ireland, about being an only child, the pressure he was under to join the family business before he had a massive blow up with his dad and left home for a while. Our stories couldn’t be more different. It seems his parents are overly involved in every aspect of his life, or at least they try to be, and my own mother doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore.
The cold is somehow worse when we leave Margo’s, maybe because the soup has warmed me and loosened the tension in my bones. Noah chuckles when I shiver, wrapping my arms around my body and stamping my feet in the snow.
“Here,” he says, pulling me closer. He rubs his hands up and down my arms furiously, and I laugh as he jostles my body. When he considers me thoroughly warmed, he stops and looks down at me, his eyes searching my face. For a moment I think he’s going to lean down and kiss me, and from the wry look on his face Noah knows it. His eyes sparkle when he says, “Not yet, Avery,” and pulls me back toward campus.
******
The apartment is sweltering when I let us in; Leslie’s left the heater on and I am so grateful I could kiss her. I pace in and huck off my boots. I head straight for my room, waiting for Noah to follow. It’s strange having him here with me, scanning my neat and tidy desk, my meticulously made bed, hospital corners and all. His gaze roves over my bookshelf, searching for… I have no idea what he’s searching for but he doesn’t seem to find it.
“Your roomI'm just being a brat looks like it belongs in a hotel. Where’s all your stuff?”
“What do you mean?” I unwind my long scarf and hang it back on a hook in the closet. Noah walks up behind me and peers over my shoulder.
“You clothes are organized by color.”
“And season,” I say, slamming the door shut. “I like…I like things to be methodical.” I spin around and walk into Noah’s chest. His hands go to my hips, and he smirks down at me.
“I am never showing you my room.”
“Oh?” A hazy feeling swamps me. Those freckles are a whole lot more prominent up this close. “And why’s that?”
“Because you’d dump me on the spot. I live out of a suitcase for starters. The rest of my clothes usually end up over the back of a chair.”
“Dump you? We’re not dating, Noah.” I try to sound a little mocking. I totally fail, naturally. Instead, I sounded breathless and flustered.
“You know you want to go out with me.”
Do I? I don’t deny it, but how is he so sure when I don’t have a clue what I want? My eyes flicker over his lips and, as if reading my mind, Noah licks them and gives me a lazy smile.
“Not yet.”
I shake my head and back out if his arms. “When you’re done messing with me, I should get those books and we should go. You promised me study.”
“We can go study if you want.” He edges closer again and puts his hands back on my hips. Even through my pea coat it feels like they’re burning against my skin. “Or,” he quirks one of his eyebrows, “we could stay here and find some other way to keep ourselves busy.”
Goodness knows how he has the ability to make me blush so furiously, but it seems to amuse Noah no end. He reaches up and traces my cheekbone with his finger, watching my eyes go wide. I clear my throat and lift my own hand up to his head. “How about you show me what you look like without that hat glued to your head?” I pull the beanie off in a quick tug and Noah lunges after it, groaning.
“Lord, woman! What are you doing to me? Give it back. My hair is a disaster!”
I hold the hat high in the air, laughing, the way the kids at high school used to do to the freshmen. I’m a midget compared to Noah, however, and it only takes him a second to retrieve it.
“Trouble, woman. Pure, unadulterated trouble.” He’s so much closer now, our bodies pressing together properly for the first time. He slips his arms around my waist, neglecting to return the beanie to his head, and sighs. “Okay. It’s out there now. Take a good look. I’m gonna shave it all off soon.”
I’m almost embarrassed by the fact that I want to run my hands through his hair; it’s messy, much straighter than I thought it was going to be given the way it’s always curling at the ends. Noah’s eyes don’t leave mine as I tentatively reach up and thread my fingers through the thickness of it.
“You shouldn’t cut it,” I whisper.
Noah tips his head back a little when I bury my other hand in his hair, and he closes his eyes. The look on his face makes me want to do something crazy. When my hands reach the back of his neck, he exhales and tightens his arms around me.
“You’re cruel,” he breathes.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t have a choice but to kiss you now and I was going to wait at least two more days.”
I lean into his chest, my chin resting against it, and look up so that his jaw line blocks my vision. Embarrassment takes over and I bury my face into his shirt. He smells of a bright, sharp cologne. I let my hands drop so that they came into contact with his skin at the back of his neck and he tenses. I trace my fingers lightly down to the collar of his shirt, and then back up again, wondering when I became the type of person to make the first move. Noah groans a little and his hands work their way up my body. They stop at my neck, and he cups my face, gently lifting it so I can’t hide anymore. I hold my breath, waiting. My eyes are closed when he tilts my head back and I feel the explosive heat of his lips against my neck, just below my ear. I suck in a deep breath, my eyes snapping open.
Noah starts walking, guiding me backwards, and I’m too stunned to protest. The edge of my bed presses against the backs of my legs and I get that weightless sensation of panic in my
stomach. It always came with falling, even though I know it’s only a short distance. I topple back and Noah’s hands are on me instantly, stroking his thumbs across my neck and a small part of my exposed collarbone. He fumbles for a second, trying to undo the buttons on my coat, but then he freezes.
“Is this…is this okay?” he pants. But it’s not his voice I hear; it’s someone else’s entirely. My dream washes over me like a tidal wave and Luke Reid is the one asking questions.
I lay on my back, eyes closed, shocked by how badly I want him to take off my coat and everything else I’m wearing. My silent nod is all he needs. He tears at my coat when he can’t get it off and one of the big wooden buttons shoots across the room.
“Ah shit, sorry!”
I lace my fingers behind his head and pull him down, not caring about the stupid button or the fact that I’m tearing at his jacket like an animal. He unzips it and shucks it off, throwing it on the floor behind him. When his weight presses down on top of me, I can’t take it anymore and I arch my back, pushing up to kiss him. He meets me halfway and his lips crush against mine, forcing my mouth open. His tongue is hot, sliding over my teeth, exploring my mouth.
My breathing’s out of control—way too quick, ragged. Luke groans again and presses down, spreading my legs so that he’s suddenly between them. I hitch my knees up, pressing them against his hips and his hand reaches back and lifts under my thigh so that it’s wrapped around him. I follow suit with the other leg and lock them around his back. My head’s spinning. I gasp in a deep lungful of air. God, I really need to breathe. My chest feels ridiculously tight, and my heart is pounding. My concentration slips and my heart rate triples. Ruffled dark hair, dark eyes. A tight black t-shirt and worn out jeans. Shit! I’m not with Luke. I’m with Noah. Noah. Why is my body, my mind doing this to me? I should be fantasizing about the boy currently pressing up between my thighs, and yet I’m not. Why the hell is he waiting there for me, drawing me away from the heated moment, when I should be present in the here and now with Noah? My whole body goes rigid when he presses forward and I can suddenly feel how badly he wants me, digging into the most sensitive of places.
I freeze and make a strangled gasp at the back of my throat. The noise doesn’t sound like a moan of pleasure. It sounds like I’m freaking the fuck out. Which I am. Noah hears my panic, has to, because he instantly stops moving, pulling back. He looks momentarily frustrated before he gives me a shaky smile and drops a little to kiss me again, his lips much softer this time.
“Woman, you near attacked me,” he murmurs into my hair, sending chills through my body. I shudder and wriggle out from underneath him, straightening out my shirt.
“I did not!”
“Did so.” That wicked smirk makes an appearance again. “It’s okay. I liked it. Feel free to do it again whenever.”
My cheeks are red hot and my skin is on fire, especially in the throbbing area between my legs where he was just rubbing up against me. I push down the overwhelming urge to run to the bathroom and wash my hands, my face, the back of my neck. Instead, I lower myself to the ground and scrabble around under Leslie’s bed to find the button that flew off my coat. Noah’s leaning back against my pillows when I stand up, watching me. He has something in his hand.
“I totally didn’t mean to but I just read this by accident. It was on your pillow.” He hands over a sheet of paper covered in Leslie’s loopy handwriting, and a small orange envelope with an underlined A on it. I read Leslie’s note first.
Roomie,
That guy from last month came by to see you this morning. He looked tired as hell. I’d still date him, though. Maybe you could tell him that if you see him again. I need an older guy in my life. Anyway, he practically begged me to give you this. He made me promise not to read it, said something about mail fraud being a federal offence (who is this guy???)
Anyway, I’m staying in the city tonight with my sister but I’ll be back tomorrow. See you soon,
Leslie xoxo
Noah watches me read the note with a curious look on his face. He throws a balled up strip of paper at me, and I smile.
“Sorry, that’s…it’s nothing. Just an old friend from back home.” The same one we saw at O’Flanagan’s. The one doing his damnedest to make sabotage my love life, even if it is all in my head.
Noah nods and scoots off the bed. “You don’t need to explain anything to me, Avery. It’s none of my business.”
“I know, I just…” I trail off. It’s probably better if I just stop talking.
“Would you like it to be my business?”
I tap the corner of the envelop against my palm, knowing what it will say inside. An apology, probably. For Casey. For basically telling her my new name now. Luke hasn’t texted me since the other night but I’ve hardly had my phone switched on. Maybe he has tried to call. There has to be a reason why he’s written me an actual letter. Why do I feel so conflicted whenever I think about him? Especially after the hottest make out session of my life with another guy. Another really hot guy who’s basically asking if I want him to be a part of my life.
“I think so. I think that would be…”
Noah leans forward and kissed me. It’s soft and slow, and has me melting all over again. He eventually pulls back and strokes down the side of my face. “I’d like for you to be my business. I know I’m going off to Africa in less than a month and then I’ll only be here for a semester after, but we can think about that later. For now, what do you say we just get to know one another and figure out the basics?”
I open the drawer on my nightstand, slipping Luke’s envelope inside. “That sounds perfect.” I really like Noah, sure, but the likelihood of us getting serious in just over four months together is almost non-existent. I won’t have to explain anything I don’t want to, and it would be nice to have someone to take my mind off things. He’s funny and cute, and he makes me feel like a normal human being. That’s an incredibly valuable ability these days.
I kiss him again and pull him up off my bed. He takes my hand and bites down gently on one of my fingers. “So…am I allowed to say it?”
“Say what?”
“Well, the note, it says…” He raises his eyebrows, as if waiting for me to catch on.
I let out a deep sigh and glare down at the piece of paper. “I mean it, Luke really is just an old friend. He’s a pol—” Noah puts his finger over my lips.
“That’s not what I meant. I was referring to the last bit. Your roommate’s gonna be in the city tonight. That means you’ll be…alone?” There’s a question in the way he says that, like I don’t have to be if I don’t want to. I pull on my pea coat, now minus a button, and punch him lightly on his arm.
“Not yet, Noah Richards.”
Morgan: Where are you? Come party with me!
THE text arrives just as I’m about to take a shower before bed. It’s way too late to be going partying with Morgan, but the woman doesn’t seem to have any sense of timing.
Me: Are you lit, Morgan Kepler?
Morgan: Like a house on fire!
I laugh, but then turn my phone off. She’ll be texting me all night otherwise. It’s when I’m brushing my teeth that I remember Luke’s envelope. I half consider just tossing it straight into the trash, but I’m not brave enough to do something like that. It’s rude. Even if I do want to ignore Luke, the manners Dad instilled me with refuse to let me be that brash. I get into bed at eleven thirty and retrieve the letter from my nightstand. When I open it, I’m a little taken aback. It’s not an apology. Not even close. It’s a single white piece of paper with four symbols drawn onto it.
Any of these symbols mean anything to you?
I immediately recognize one of them. The one that looks like a number eight on its side is fairly common. It’s the symbol for eternity. I scan over the other markings, trying to think back. Are any of them familiar? I can’t be sure. I don’t think so. I flip over the piece of paper to see if Luke has explained anything on the revers
e, but it’s blank. I sit up in bed and stare at the symbols for another five long minutes. Why is Luke asking about them? And why is he not explaining himself? The endlessly curious part of me wants, no, needs to know.
Is that why he did it? To make me call? I shove the thought aside and slip the envelope back into the draw. After a few minutes spent arguing internally with myself, I take out my cell phone and bring up Luke’s number. I refuse to call. No, after the other night outside his apartment, the vile look on Casey’s face, the horror on his? I can’t bear the thought of hearing his voice. I go with a text message instead.
Me: Why?
I hit send before I can chicken out and tuck my cell under my pillow, trying to put it all out of my head. It buzzes a couple of minutes later.
Luke:It’s important.
Me: That’s not an answer.
Luke:It’s related to the Wyoming Ripper. I still have a friend back at Break PD. They did me a favor. I’m looking into a couple of things.
I have no idea what Luke is doing snooping into the Wyoming Ripper case, but it can only mean one thing: trouble.
Me:You have the file? Can you get it?
