“I keep thinking about that time in the bath,” he whispers. He looks away as if he’s embarrassed.
I sigh and look up at him, nudging his arm until he turns to me so I can stare in his eyes. “That was, and still is, the best orgasm I have ever had, Noah.” It’s true. It was. “You should be high-fiving me, not feeling ashamed about it.”
“It was the third time you’d had sex,” he says, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have done it like that with you. I should have been calmer, slower…gentle even.”
I can’t help it, but I laugh. “I’ve had much worse than that, Noah. Much worse.”
He frowns. “Your friend was pissed off her face the other night,” he continues. “She told us some pretty horrible things.”
I take a deep breath and bury my hands into my pockets. “They’re probably all true.”
“I can’t stop thinking about the first time,” he says. “I’ve convinced myself that I damaged you. I feel like I did this to you. Did I?”
“You ripped my hymen to shreds,” I say. “Of course you damaged me.”
“Ariel,” he warns, “you know what I mean.”
“No,” I huff. “I know it’s not that. And besides, it wasn’t always like that with us.” I cross my arms over my chest to try and keep myself warm. “Maybe I just like dirty sex and I always would have, even if I’d never met you.”
“I know, I just—”
“Overthink and overanalyse?” I finish for him.
He tuts and quickly shakes his head. “I hope you have regular checks.”
The doctor in him is clearly fighting to get out. “You’re the only man that’s gone bareback inside me, Noah.”
“You don’t have to be so crude all the time,” he scolds.
“I have regular checks,” I tell him with a smile.
We walk in a surprising comfortable silence for a few minutes. I think about just telling him everything. I know I should. Problem is, I used to trust him, but I don’t know who he is anymore.
“Please stop doing it,” he whispers, grabbing my elbow to pull me across the road.
“What?”
He guides me towards the front of our building and shields me from the biting wind with his body. “Stop being this way. You’ll get hurt one day.”
“I won’t,” I say confidently.
“Look at me,” he demands.
I find myself complying immediately and look up at him through my lashes. Men aren’t normally beautiful. They’re masculine and attractive, but you don’t normally think about beauty when you see them. They tend to be more angular and harsher looking. But Noah is beyond beautiful.
In the shadow of the building and the darkness of the night, his dark blue eyes look almost black. “You’re better than this,” he whispers, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. This simple gesture makes my blood freeze in my veins. “Please don’t belittle yourself by acting like you don’t give a shit.”
“Noah,” I breathe.
“Just stop it,” he says.
“I don’t think I can,” I confess.
His forehead creases into a frown. “I don’t understand,” he says honestly. “And I’m really struggling here.”
“I know you don’t,” I tell him. “I’ve promised to tell you and I will. You have to believe me, and you have to let me go and get some sleep.”
He nods and takes a step away from me. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”
I reach out to him, but he flinches at my touch. I pull my hand back to my side and feel the burn of embarrassment filter across my cheeks. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He blinks up at me. “For what?”
“I’m sorry for leaving without explaining it all to you. I shouldn’t have done that, but I was frightened, Noah. I was a scared little girl and I didn’t know what to do.”
He nods slowly and reaches out to touch my necklace. “You still wear it?”
I stare into his eyes and nod with a sad smile on my face. “I’ve never taken it off.”
Chapter 19
THEN
Just A Normal Day
I wake to the tickling feeling of fingertips trailing a line up my spine.
“Good morning,” I mumble into my pillow.
“Hello,” he says, leaning over to kiss my shoulder. “Did you sleep well?
I slept like a log. I roll off my front, trying to ignore the pain I have in my stomach from lying that way, and blink up at him. “I slept incredibly well.” I stretch my arms above my head and push my legs straight. “I feel great.”
“Good,” he says, “you can go and get in the shower, and I’ll see you in about fifteen minutes for breakfast. I’ve put you a mug of tea on your desk.”
I look over towards the other side of the room and notice the bright red mug. How long has he been up? “What time is it?”
“Nearly nine,” he smiles. “You hungry?”
His eyes move from my face and down the entire length of my body. I think somebody else is hungry. “Very,” I say, realising my voice sounds different.
He smirks. “Naughty girl.” He pushes me onto my side and taps my bum. “Get your mind out of the gutter and get in the shower. I’ll see you downstairs in a bit.”
I sit up and feel my necklace drop back into position. “Will my necklace be okay in the water?”
Noah nods and walks over to the window. “Yeah, it’ll be fine.”
I push myself off the bed and walk over to see what he’s staring at. There are children everywhere. Despite the snow, some are trying to ride bikes and scooters through it. Some have kites blowing in the cold wind, but most of them are just throwing snowballs at each other.
Oh God.
It’s Christmas Day.
I’d completely forgotten. I stumble away from the window and grab my dressing gown.
“I’m showering,” I say, running through my bedroom and across the landing.
“It’ll be alright,” he calls.
I just about manage to make it to the bathroom and slam the door shut before the tears start to fall. Caleb and Daniel should be out there. Mum and dad should be in the kitchen cooking the turkey, and I should be playing downstairs with Lily and her new presents. But instead, I’m crying in my bathroom while a virtual stranger makes me breakfast.
The others are lying in the bottom of a grave, decomposing to nothing. I hate the thought of bugs eating their skin, of things slithering around their skeletons. I shiver. Maybe I should have had them cremated, but I couldn’t stand the thought of them burning. I know it’s ridiculous because they were already dead, but I kept imagining the smell of burnt skin. They had already died; I didn’t want them burning too.
Suddenly, I think about Noah. He must have seen, heard and smelt his own family burning alive right in front of him. I feel a stab of pity like a knife poking me in my stomach. How is he doing this? How is he downstairs cooking breakfast for me when he’s probably thinking the same things that I am?
The only consolation I have is that at least my family’s deaths were relatively quick. The doctors told me that the impact of the van rolling and then hitting the other car and tree would have killed them all almost instantly. He said none of them, except Michael and me, were alive when they arrived at the scene.
At least they didn’t have to suffer. At least they weren’t screaming in pain, begging God to take them away because of how much it hurt.
I walk down the stairs like the tin man.
“What are you doing?” laughs Noah.
“I’m wearing thermal leggings underneath my walking trousers, and they’re making my legs feel like sausages.”
He holds out his hand and helps me down the last few steps. “Speaking of sausages, your breakfast is ready. I’ve done you a full English, so you’ll have to eat around anything you don’t like.”
It smells amazing. I caught the scent of bacon wafting up the stairs when I got out of the shower. “I like everything,” I tell him.
“Ev
en black pudding?”
I can’t believe he cooked black pudding. “Yup, and I like white pudding.”
“Who eats white pudding?”
I shrug, walking into the kitchen behind him. “I do.” I stop when I see the table. There are two huge, oval plates full of food, two mugs of tea and two glasses of orange juice. Where did he get all of the food? “This looks great,” I tell him, sitting down at the table.
“Tuck in,” he tells me. “We’ve got a big walk ahead of us.”
I cut a sausage up into pieces and stab one of them onto my fork. “How big is big?”
He raises both eyebrows at me and grins. “My favourite walk is about twenty miles long.”
He’s joking, right? “There’s snow on the ground.”
He cuts up his bacon and scoops it onto his fork with some beans. “And your point is?”
I watch him eat. He keeps his mouth closed and chews while staring at me. When he swallows, I see his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “It’ll be harder,” I finally say.
“Only a little,” he says. “I’ve checked your boots out and they’re good, so it won’t make much difference to you.”
“We’re going to be knackered,” I say, piling a mini buffet onto my fork. My piece of egg wobbles precariously on the top.
“That’s the idea.”
“I can think of better ways to get knackered,” I tell him with a smile.
He shakes his head. “Nope. We’re walking and that’s final.”
Five hours. That’s how long we’ve been walking. I have blisters on my feet, chaffing on my thighs and I’ve probably got frozen snot hanging from my nose. I hate Noah right now.
“Nearly there,” he huffs, stabbing his stick into the snow. “It’s been a good hike.”
I could hit him over the head with his stick and watch him roll down the hill. Or, I could whack his knee with the stick and bust it so he has to hobble all the way home. Or maybe I could just claim I’ve broken my ankle so he has to carry me all the way back? Thoughts like this have been circling around in my head for the last hour. I know it’s mean to think this way, but I don’t believe he realises just how sore everything is on me.
“Have you lost your tongue?” he calls over his shoulder.
I sigh. “No.”
“You’re starting to sound like Moody Margaret.”
What? “Who the fuck is Moody bloody Margaret?”
He laughs. Hard. “It’s a character from Horrid Henry.”
“Oh, silly me,” I say, rolling my eyes at his back. “I didn’t realise you were into watching TV programmes for five-year-olds.”
Noah turns and gives me a dazzling smile. “You’re cute when you’re annoyed.”
“I’m not annoyed,” I tell him. “I’m in pain.”
He shrugs. “Annoyed. In pain. Same difference really.”
Is he kidding me? I squint at him through the sun and turn around. I have to admit that the panoramic view of the Moors is breathtaking. The sky is bright blue, the sun is a big ball of hot fire in the sky and the usual heather-covered ground is blanketed in snow that glitters as if it has thousands of crystals embedded in it.
“I used to come up here with Buddy in the summer and just sit here, thinking about life.”
“Who’s Buddy?” I ask.
Noah huddles up next to me. “He was my Grandad’s dog.”
“Where is he now?”
Noah shrugs. “I like to think he’s somewhere out here, living the dog’s life.”
“What do you mean?”
“It was a few days after my Grandad collapsed until someone found him. Only a couple, but it was enough for Buddy to figure out a way to escape.”
“He ran off?” I ask in disbelief. I’ve always heard stories where the dogs keep some sort of weird vigil by their owner’s side.
Noah nods and laughs. “He’s probably slumming it with some bitch.”
I raise my eyebrows at him.
“What?” he laughs. “He was a right dirty bastard. Used to hump everything that moved, including my leg. And my back, when I used to bend down to tie my laces.”
I giggle at the image. “I hope he’s not cold.”
Noah shakes his head. “He looked like a bloody big wolf. He had this mane of perfect fur that looked as if it was groomed to within an inch of its life when really we didn’t even brush him. I’m sure there’ll be stories in the next few months about the wild wolf that lives on the Moors.”
“I hope so,” I say.
“Anyway,” Noah says, pulling his backpack off, “we’ve not stopped to chat.”
I huff. “I want to punch you.”
“Just out of curiosity, where?”
I try to fight my smile. “I want to grab your stupid little stick and whack you around the back of your kneecaps with it.”
Noah puts his hand on his chest and laughs really loud. “Wow,” he smirks. “You’ve definitely been thinking about that.”
I shake my head. “I’ve been thinking a lot worse.”
“Alright,” he says. “We need to head back now anyway because it’ll get dark soon.”
I hadn’t thought about that. I check my watch. “Won’t it be going dark in a couple of hours?”
“Yeah, but we’ll be quicker walking back since it’s all downhill.” I watch him unscrew the cap to the flask and pour us both a steaming cup of tea. I don’t know what he did yesterday, but he must have bought half the supermarket. A couple of hours ago, he stopped us to eat. He’d made ham sandwiches on brown bread and brought a flask of spicy chorizo, chickpea and cabbage soup. It was lovely and warmed me up just right. For pudding, we had double-chocolate muffins.
“Where’s Tara anyway?” I ask, handing my cup back to him.
“She’s from Ireland. She goes back there for Christmas every year.”
I frown at him. “And what do you do?”
“I’m normally up here on my own or I’m at the farm, helping out.”
“Oh,” I say. “Okay.”
He puts the stuff back into the bag and swings it around, pushing his arms through the straps. “That’s enough chatting,” he jokes with a smile. “We’ve got another couple of hours of walking to do.”
I stick my tongue out at him.
I want to cry. I hobble up the path to my house in the darkness and collapse onto the step.
“Don’t sit on there,” he scolds. “You’ll get piles.”
I look up at him and blink. “What if I’ve already got them?”
“You haven’t,” he says. “I checked.”
“Ew,” I laugh, getting up to swat his arm. “You’re disgusting.”
We’re laughing as we stumble into the hallway. He pushes me up the stairs and runs a bath. I sit on the landing carpet and let my head drop. I haven’t been this tired in forever, not even when I did the race in the summer.
“Come here,” he says from the doorway of the bathroom.
“I can’t,” I say. “I’m stuck.”
He sighs. “Come on,” he beckons. “I have a surprise for you.”
Now I look up. The light is on in the room behind him and I’m in darkness so I can only sort of see his silhouette, but I can instantly tell that he’s naked.
“Seriously?” I say, pushing myself to standing. “You still have energy left?”
“Nope,” he laughs. “We’re just going to have a nice hot soak together. I’m too cold to wait for you to get out.”
“Oh.” I stagger towards him, letting my arms hang limply by my sides. “Can I get in with my clothes on?”
“No, they’ll swell up like a—”
“Penis?” I finish.
“Aw,” he says with a patronising smile. “You said penis. How cute.”
I laugh and begin to peel my tops off over my head. I take my bra off and snap it across his bum. “That’s for laughing at me,” I tell him.
He ignores me.
I roll my eyes and peel both pairs of trousers down my legs. When
I stand up, he turns and laughs at me. I look down at my semi-naked body and frown at him. “What’s so funny?”
“You,” he says, nodding at me. “Talk about sexy.”
I look down again and notice my big, comfy black knickers and my woolly walking socks. I’m not wearing a scrap of anything else. I wriggle my knickers off, feeling my freezing cold thighs as I do so, and then stand in front of him. “That better?”
He stares at my socks.
“Okay, fine,” I say. “You win.” I take my socks off and climb into the bath without waiting for him. I wince as the hot water sloshes over my numb bits. Jesus. I know the water isn’t too hot, but it feels as if it’s scalding me. The steam rises up off the top of the water, soaking my face and the few bits of my hair that have fallen out of my bobble.
“Shove up,” he says. I turn and stare at him. I know he can see me doing it, but I don’t care. He’s perfect in every sense. I scoot forward, leaving just enough room for him to slide in behind me. His legs come around my sides and his feet touch the end of the bath. He wraps a wet arm around my cold chest and pulls me back against him. Then he takes a deep breath and rests his head on the back of the bath. “This feels nice,” he says.
I nod. I can feel his knob floating in the water at the bottom of my back. I didn’t realise it would float. He sinks lower into the water, pulling me with him until the water rests just under my chin. We just sit like that until our toes begin to get some feeling back into them. The water no longer feels too hot, but just right.
After a few minutes, I feel one of his fingertips start to make a circular pattern on my left thigh. He makes figure eights and then reverses and goes back over the outline he’s just made until he stops suddenly and pulls his hand away. The next thing I feel is his finger as it starts to write on the thigh of my right leg under the water.
He draws an ‘I.’
He removes his hand to signal the start of a new word.
W
A
N
T
My breath catches in my throat. The feeling of his fingers over my sensitive skin is overwhelming. My nipples immediately go hard and poke out through the bubbles. Noah must see them and hear my response, because he suddenly starts to breathe heavily into my ear as he leans around my neck to watch his fingers.
Noah and Me Page 13
