He nods and taps his fingers against the bare pine table. “I know that, Ariel, but it’s Christmas Eve.”
I pour the hot water over the tea bags and stir them around with a spoon, thinking about what he’s said. “What else was I supposed to do today?”
He sighs but doesn’t say anything.
“What are you doing today?” I ask, realising he’s been here with me for most of the afternoon.
“I’m helping you,” he says. “What else was I supposed to do today?”
I turn around and place his steaming hot mug in front of him. “Aren’t there any graves that need digging today?”
“It’s Saturday,” he tells me. “The church doesn’t do funerals on Saturdays.”
I hadn’t the first idea what day of the week it was. “Oh, yeah.” I shrug and blow on my tea. “I guess I’d forgotten.”
“Shall we go and drink these in the other room?” he asks, standing up.
I nod and follow him through the house. He stops when he enters the living room. “You put the tree up?” he asks disbelievingly.
I peek around the door and stare at the pathetic excuse of a Christmas tree. I came across it when I sorting through the stuff in the loft, but once I’d seen it, I knew I couldn’t wake up on Christmas morning without an actual tree. “Yeah,” I say. “I’m still not sure if it was a good idea though.”
“How come?”
I nod towards the sofas and watch as Noah sinks himself down into the armchair. My dad’s armchair.
“Because I’m still going to wake up on Christmas morning with no family.” I take a long swig of my tea and sit down on the sofa opposite the fire. When I look back up, Noah is staring at me with pity in his eyes. “I kind of thought it would make me feel better, but I’m not so sure,” I whisper.
He frowns and glances at the tree. “What’s that there?”
I notice his eyes moving quickly from me to the lone wrapped present sitting underneath the tree. “I don’t know,” I say honestly. “My mum had done most of the Christmas shopping already. I found all the presents in her bedroom.” Without warning, I burst into tears. My chest shudders and my hands start to shake so violently that I drop my mug of tea all over the floor. “That one has a label with my name on it, and it was the only one that was wrapped,” I tell him through my sobs.
“Oh, God,” says Noah, bending down to put his mug on the hearth. He strides across the room and gathers me into his arms, pulling me tight against his chest. “It’s okay,” he says. “Just let it all out. I’ve got you.”
And that’s what I do for the next forty-five minutes. Afterwards, I feel embarrassed and ashamed. I’ve literally screamed and cried, pulling and grabbing at him without really thinking about what I was doing. His t-shirt is soaking wet from a mixture of tears and snot. When I’ve calmed down enough to breathe properly, I wipe my nose with the back of my hand and peek up at him.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He puts his big hand on the back of my head and kisses my forehead. “Don’t ever be sorry for crying, Ariel. Don’t ever be sorry for missing them or wishing that they were here with you. Don’t be sorry for admitting to yourself how fucking devastating it’s going to be to wake up on Christmas morning as an orphan.”
“How do I get through it?” I ask. “How did you get through it?”
He starts to play with the bottom of my hair. “It’s just another day. That’s all you have to think. It’s just another day to get through.”
“But it’s Christmas,” I tell him. “It’s supposed to be a whole day that you spend with your family and pull crackers and tell crappy cracker jokes that no one finds funny.”
“It’s just another day,” he says again. “You’re incredibly strong and brave. It’ll be one of the hardest days of your life, but you’ll get through it. Then you’ll have twelve months to grieve, to remember the good times you had with them and to get stronger, and then next Christmas will hurt that little bit less.”
“I don’t want another Christmas,” I say. “I want to go back to the last one.”
He sighs and my head naturally lifts as his chest expands. “They’re gone, Ariel. Really gone. You’re never going to see them or hear them again, and you’re never going to make new memories. All the good ones you’ve got and especially all the bad ones will stay with you for the rest of your life, but that’s all you’ve got. You can cry and scream and say all the crap you want, but it won’t change that simple fact. I’m sorry to be so blunt, but it’s how I came to terms with it all. I had to realise that nothing was going to change the fact that I was all alone and always would be.”
I shake my head. “You have your Grandfather and Tara,” I remind him.
“My Grandad will be dead soon, Ariel. And Tara, well, girlfriends, no matter how much you love them, just aren’t in the same category as your whole family. They would have to be a pretty spectacular person to switch the balance over.”
“Balance?”
He nods. “The balance between the paralysing hurt of losing the people you love and the absolute glorious revelation of finding the one person that makes you happier than you’ve ever been.” He pulls his fingers through my hair. “Someone who makes you so happy that you stare into your future and finally look forward to it.”
I frown, listening to his words that sound beautiful but are full of hurt and pain. “Don’t you look forward to your future now?”
“I’m living my future,” he says. “I’ve been where you are now and I’m telling you that you’ll get out of it.”
“But Tara doesn’t tip the balance for you?”
“No,” he sighs.
I lean back away from him and level my face with his. “Then why the hell are you wasting your time with her? Go and find someone who gives you a future to be excited about.”
“It’s not that easy,” he huffs.
“Then go and have fun while you’re trying to find her. She’s not right for you, Noah. She can’t be or else you’d be telling me a different story.”
I feel him chuckle. “You act like a thirty-year-old.”
“I act like a thirty-year-old woman,” I clarify.
“As opposed to?”
“A man.”
“We’re capable of being mature,” he says in mock indignation.
“Okay, I’ll come and find you when you’re thirty and we’ll test that theory.”
He pushes his hands up my thighs, and I feel a sliver of electricity fire its way through my groin and into the pit of my stomach. “And how are you going to test it?”
I sense where he’s going and I like it. I want to go with him. “I’m not sure yet.”
His eyes hover over my face and then they fall to my lips. He moves in, giving me a waft of his aftershave, and brushes his cheek against mine. I can’t let him do this. I pull away and offer him my neck instead.
“Ariel,” he mumbles against my skin. “Why won’t you let me kiss you?” He presses his soft lips against the outside of my neck and kisses me softly.
“You just can’t,” I tell him. “Please don’t make a big deal out of this.”
“You’ve never been kissed?” he asks, sounding surprised.
I want to be honest with him, but I haven’t the first clue why. I barely know the guy. “I have,” I admit. “But not for a while.”
“How long is a while?”
“Two years,” I tell him.
He kisses up my neck and nibbles on my earlobe. “Why? And don’t tell me that the boys weren’t interested.”
“The boys weren’t interested,” I say quickly.
“Ariel,” he warns. “You’re not playing fair.”
“Kissing isn’t for us,” I say. “Kissing is for people who like each other…who want to get to know each other better. Kissing is for people who want to express their romantic feelings to the other person. Kissing is what you do when you want to make a declaration.”
“So what’s this that we’re doi
ng?”
“We’re not doing anything yet,” I remind him. “But we have fucked. And I think we’re about to do it again. We’re not declaring anything. We’re just doing something that feels good.”
His hand cups my breast, his thumb rubbing my nipple. “We’re not doing it yet.”
I lean back and push my fingers through his hair. “What are you waiting for?” I ask, readjusting myself on his lap until I feel his erection poking me in my thigh.
He stops kissing my neck and leans back against the sofa. “I’m waiting for you this time.”
I blink at him. “What?”
He smiles. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what you want me to do to you?”
I nod towards the floor. “Not on here,” I tell him. “Move to the floor.”
He complies immediately, picking me up and planting us gently on the beige carpet. “I want to show you how it’s done properly,” he says, pulling my t-shirt above my head. “Let me make love to you.”
I freeze. “No,” I snap, shaking my head.
He stares at me, looking confused. “Why not?”
“Don’t,” I say. “Don’t do this nicely. I don’t want kisses and I don’t want you making love to me. Just fuck me.”
“Ariel, this isn’t right.”
I grind my hips against his bulge. “It feels right to me.”
“I don’t understand this,” he confesses.
“There’s nothing to understand,” I say. “People do this, don’t they? They just meet and have sex. That’s what we’re doing here.”
“I think you need help,” he whispers.
“I’ll get some help,” I promise, lifting his t-shirt over his head. “Right after New Year’s.”
“Are you being serious?” he asks, putting his hand over mine, stopping me from unbuttoning his jeans. I lean back and stare at his solid chest. My eyes immediately move to his scars and I find myself reaching out to touch them. I want to feel them. I want to kiss them. They’re disgustingly ugly and look painfully sore but are breathtakingly beautiful all at the same time. Scars are a reminder—a history or a memory stamped right onto your skin. I feel like I should have something stamped all over mine. On every single piece of me.
He snatches my hand away. “Don’t touch,” he says softy.
I look up into his eyes. “Do they hurt?”
“No.”
“Then why can’t I touch?” I ask, pulling my hand out of his and moving it back towards his trousers.
“It’s the same reason that you have for me not kissing you.”
“It isn’t,” I say, bending down to lick his nipple. I smile when a groan slips from his lips. “But I get your point. I won’t touch them.”
“Thank you,” he breathes, and his whole body physically relaxes underneath me. “And were you being serious about getting some help?”
“Yes,” I say. “Now shut up.”
He smirks, removing my bra. “You fuck me this time,” he says, bucking his hips so I straddle him.
I wiggle my hips, moving my knickers down my legs, and then I position the tip of his cock at my entrance. I take a deep breath and look down into his eyes. He doesn’t look like the Noah that’s been with me all afternoon. His eyes are hard and cold as he stares right through me. I want to know where he goes when we do this, but I daren’t ask him because I’m not sure that I’d like his answer.
I shut my eyes and lift up slightly. This is going to hurt. I take a deep breath and push down onto him, forcing him inside me in one quick move. It feels like my hymen is tearing all over again. I clamp my mouth shut to stop myself from crying out and let my head drop so he can’t see my face. I stretch around him, my insides burning as they accommodate this foreign object filling me up completely.
Fortunately, the pain doesn’t last as long this time and I start to slowly slide myself up and down him.
Spasms, an equal mix of pain and pleasure, stab right through me, settling deep in my stomach. Noah’s lips part, quiet groans escaping them. The sound of his enjoyment spurs me on. I’m making him groan in pleasure. Me. I’m doing this to him. And I’m going to try and make myself enjoy it too.
My thighs start to ache after a few minutes as the lactic acid builds up, but years of training have taught me how to ignore it. I bounce up and down on him, our skin slapping as I pound harder and harder. When I realise that I get zaps of pleasure when I move in certain ways, I circle my hips as I move on him, forcing him to brush against one spot in particular. I stop moving and push myself down as far as I can go, sending him deep inside me. I feel him in there and I know that he can’t go any further. A deep ache, similar to a period cramp, vibrates around my lower abdomen. I pull my thighs up higher and clamp them around his ribs. I can feel the softness of his scar on my left knee. I ignore the fact that his cold skin is grating against my knee and start to circle my hips again. Oh God, this feels good.
I feel like I’m stretched to breaking, but I carry on swirling around on him. I throw my head back, feeling my hair tickle the top of my bum, and lean my hands back on his big thighs. Now his cock is hitting my front wall and I want to scream his name as the pleasure swamps me. I lift my bum up and then let it drop back down, pulling myself off and then planting myself firmly back onto him. My breasts, which are far too big compared to the rest of my body, bounce up and down on my chest. It feels strange and a little embarrassing, but Noah starts to circle his wet thumb over my clitoris and I completely forget about my bouncing tits.
Fuck!
“Faster,” he grunts, placing his hands around my bum. He lifts me up with his hands and grabs my hips, pulling me down onto him. He repeats this over and over until my hairs stand on end and I start to shake.
“Oh, God,” I whisper.
“Harder,” he says, bucking his hips so he’s moving deeper and faster inside of me.
The tops of his thighs slap against my bum. The sound of our skin colliding like that does something to me. It makes me breathe faster and the tingling zoom around quicker. Then all of a sudden I’m floating and I feel myself clenching around him as my heart slams into my chest.
So this is what it feels like to come undone?
“Fuck,” he breathes, thrusting a couple more times before I feel warmth bursting inside of me. I collapse onto his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat returning to normal.
He leans up and kisses the top of my head. “That was incredible.”
How can it be incredible when I don’t know what I’m doing? “You don’t have to pretend,” I tell him.
He chuckles. “I’m being serious. Girls don’t normally do it like that. You give yourself to me completely and it’s liberating. You’re not worried about what you look like or what you sound like. You just listen to what your body wants and you do it.”
“If you say so.”
“I do,” he says, and without looking at him, I know that he’s smiling.
“Ariel?” he says after we’ve calmed down.
“Yeah?” I answer without looking up.
“I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
Chapter 16
NOW
Clearing The Mind
I push my arm out from underneath my nice warm covers and slap my palm down on top of the stupid alarm. I rub my eyes, crawl out of bed and peek outside between the curtains. It’s dark and there’s a glistening layer of fresh frost on the ground.
I sigh and head into the bathroom. The heating hasn’t kicked in yet so the whole apartment is freezing. I’m going to have to have a chat with Ruby about the heating. The only thing worse than working nights is working them in the winter and having to come back home to sleep in a freezing cold bedroom. I flick on the shower, thankful that we at least have instant hot water. Then I realise I don’t actually need a shower if I’m going running. I shut the water back off, rinse my hands underneath the tap and splash my face. I spray some deodorant on and go back into my room. I quickly pull my running clothes on and walk as
quietly as I can into the kitchen.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” shrieks Ruby. “What in God’s name are you doing, Ariel?”
I take a step back and start to laugh. “What’s with all the religious profanity?”
“It’s the shock,” she says, putting a hand against her chest. “I always revert back to my Catholic school days when I’m in shock.”
“You went to a Catholic school?”
“Yes,” she says, then narrows her eyes. “Why do you sound so surprised?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I mumble. “I must be confused because of all the Catholic things that you do.”
She puts her hand on her hip. “Listen here, missy. I am a Catholic. I was christened a Catholic and I’ll die a Catholic. I just don’t happen to practise all of the Catholic teachings.”
A smirk forms on my face. “I’ll say, because I think the whole floor heard that you weren’t practising the no-sex-before-marriage thing.”
She wags her finger at me. “Don’t start on me, lady. From what I’ve seen tonight, you’re the one with all the secrets. Which, by the way, you’re going to have to spill to me pretty soon.”
I laugh as I fill a glass with water and drain it all.
“Why do you have your sports stuff on anyway?” she asks.
“I’m going running,” I tell her.
“You run?” she says with raised eyebrows.
“I used to run a lot,” I answer honestly, “but I haven’t run in a good few years though.”
“How much did you used to run?”
I shrug. “A lot. Every day for miles and miles.”
“Why’d you stop?” she asks as the microwave starts beeping.
“What are you cooking at this time in the morning?”
“I’m on an early shift and this is hot milk,” she answers. “So why’d you stop running?”
“I just stopped and I don’t really know why anymore.”
“And you’re just starting up again right now?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say, grabbing a banana and peeling it. “What’s with all the questions?”
“There’s something going on,” she says, taking her mug out of the microwave and blowing the top of it. “First you asked me not to tell anyone about your weird sex thing, and now you’re starting to run again. Is there something you want to tell me, Ariel? Does it have something to do with this Noah dude?”
Noah and Me Page 10
