“Tongue,” he says.
I laugh. “Really? You’d rather never speak a single word ever again, never tell your wife you love her, never tell your children that you think they’re beautiful, all so you could get your end away?”
He nods. “I wouldn’t get a wife or a child if I didn’t have a knob.”
“You’d still have balls and sperm,” I say. “You could still father a child.”
He shakes his head. “I’d want my knob.”
“Do men really like sex that much?”
“Yes,” he says, “you’d do well to remember that.”
I laugh, but stop when I feel a pain rumble across my stomach. I place my hand over my tummy and suck in a quick breath.
“What is it?” he asks, putting his wine glass on the table.
“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head. “I think I might have had too many nuts.”
Noah laughs right in my face. “Sorry,” he says, trying to convert his laugh into a cough. “Are you alright?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m fine, thank you.”
He clears his throat and sits back in the chair. “Don’t shit yourself, will you? I wouldn’t be able to sleep with you again if you shit yourself.”
“Noah,” I admonish. “You’re not the sort of guy that says stuff like that.”
“What do you mean?”
I shrug. “You act like Mr. Smarty-Pants most of the time, you’re bossy and a little controlling, but you’re kind, incredibly funny, thoughtful and polite. You think about what you’re saying…most of the time. But then there’s this other side of you that says dirty things and finds stupid, childish stuff funny and talks about me shitting myself. Not to mention how you are in the bedroom.”
“How do you know I’m not like every other man in the bedroom?” he fires back.
“Why, out of everything I’ve just said, do you concentrate on the bit about sex?”
“I’m a bloke,” he says. “We think about sex all the time. When you’re eating, we’re thinking about your mouth being around our cocks. When you’re drinking, we’re thinking about your lips on ours. We stare at your tits every second we get. Sometimes we do it even when we know you can see us. We don’t care. We stare at your arse and imagine it bouncing on top of us. We turn everything you say into an innuendo because that’s how our brain functions. It’s how we’re made. We just wish you women would understand that.”
“Wow,” I sigh, sitting back in my chair. “How long have you been wanting to tell me all of that?”
He laughs. “I haven’t really had to tell you,” he says with a shrug. “You’re a pretty cool girlfriend, despite your age.”
“What’s wrong with my age?”
“Nothing is wrong with it,” he says, refilling his glass. “You’re young and naïve and sometimes you act like a fifteen-year-old but I know it’s because you’ve spent all of your spare time training. I bet boys weren’t even on your radar.”
I stare at him. I know my mouth is hanging open, but I can’t do anything about it. I thought we got on. I didn’t realise he was making allowances for me. “What do I do that’s childish?”
He freezes as if realising what he’s just said. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean that you’re cute. You don’t know all the evil that’s out there yet and it’s nice.”
I don’t know evil? Is he fucking kidding me? “I think you’ve just insulted me,” I say quietly.
“I didn’t mean to, honestly.”
He leans over and grabs my hand, pulling it up to his mouth to kiss it. “I admire you more than anyone I’ve ever met,” he whispers. “I know you were on the brink of doing something stupid, but you’ve pulled yourself back, Ariel. You’re the strongest person that I’ll ever meet.”
I’m weak. I’m the weakest person he’ll ever meet and he’ll soon realise that. I hate that we’re getting to know the boring bits about each other. I hate that we’re so comfortable with each other that we’re now doing the boring bits. I hate that he’s going to realise at the end of the week that it was all for nothing.
“Ariel,” he says in his husky voice, “let’s go to bed and I’ll show you exactly what I think about you.”
I smile at him and let him pull me out of my seat. “What’re you thinking?” He guides us through the small living area, past the two small armchairs, and picks me up in his arms. He places me gently onto the bed and pushes my hair from out of my face.
“Slow and sensual,” he whispers.
“What?” I say into his neck as he kisses my forehead.
“Let me make love to you, Ariel.”
I feel myself beginning to panic. I can’t have this with him. If I have this, it’ll make leaving ten times harder. “Let’s do that tomorrow,” I say, trying to giggle my way out of it. “I’m feeling naughty.”
He wavers for a second and then shakes his head. “How naughty?”
Think, think, think. “How about I give you the best blow job of your life?”
He nibbles at my jaw. “And how are you going to do that?”
“How about you talk me through it? You tell me exactly what you want me to do as I’m doing it.”
He smiles at me and I know I’ve won. For now.
I wake up sweating. I’m drenched in it, but I don’t have to wonder why when I feel an arm and leg wrapped all around me. Sometimes Noah gets into a state in the middle of the night. He doesn’t talk, but he whimpers and claws at me. More often than not, he wraps himself tightly around me and clings onto me for dear life. Usually, I just let him. I’m so exhausted these days that I can sleep through anything…but not this night.
I’ve been awake most of the night with cramps in my stomach, sort of on my right side, just a bit lower than my belly button. It’s a stabbing-like pain and I think I can remember my mum having similar symptoms when she had appendicitis. I should probably wake Noah, but for once he seems to be sleeping peacefully. I place my hand on my stomach and close my eyes again, hoping for some more sleep.
“Hey, Ariel,” he whispers into my ear. “Wake up sleepy head. I think you were snoring.”
I open my eyes and try to smile at him, but a pain slices right through me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, looking down at my hand.
“Nothing,” I say, noticing that he’s already washed and dressed. “Just lady cramps.”
He pulls a face and then I see the wheels start to turn in his head. “You’ve never had a period.”
“What?” I ask, wincing as I try to pull myself up to a sitting position.
“Since we’ve been together,” he says, looking confused. “You’ve never complained of cramps, and we’ve never gone more than two days without having sex. Why don’t you have periods?”
“I’m on the mini-pill,” I lie without actually knowing if the mini-pill stops periods. “When I was training a lot, my periods used to stop then too.”
He shakes his head and sits down at the end of the bed. “Oh my God, you haven’t been training either.”
“Erm…” I thought I’d gotten away with this. “I didn’t like my new coach.”
“How long have you had him?” he asks quickly.
“About a year before I won the juniors in the summer,” I reply. “He wasn’t very nice.” I look around the room and notice his fishing stuff stacked up by the door.
“Why did you get a new coach?”
I take a deep breath. “George had a heart attack. He didn’t die, but he was too poorly to carry on coaching.”
“What’s the new coach called?”
“Joe,” I whisper. “I think it’s short for Joseph.”
Noah frowns. “Is he young?”
I nod. “Really young. He could have been a champion, but he got run over by a bicycle and it ruined his knee. He didn’t really go to school because he was training with the athletics team, so he didn’t have any qualifications. I guess training was the next best thing.”
“Ariel,” he sigh
s, reaching out to cup my face, “you’re too good to give this up. Think about what your mum and dad would want you to do. When we go back home, we’ll get you a new coach because you’re going to the Olympics in three years.”
I’m not. I’m not going back home either. “Okay,” I say. When I sit up, I realise I’ve got a tingling pain in my shoulder tip. This isn’t good. “Are you going out on the sea?” I ask. We’ve been here two weeks, but Noah has already made friends with half the fishermen.
“Yeah,” he says. “I’ll be back pretty late.” He leans over and kisses my forehead. “Are you sure you’re okay if I go? I can stay if you don’t feel very well.”
“It’s fine,” I say, kissing him on the cheek. “Go and have fun.”
He smiles and hops off the bed, pulling his aviator-style sunglasses over his eyes that were buried in his hair. “What are you going to be doing today?”
I shrug. “I might do a bit of shopping and then go to the beach and read or something.”
He kisses me on the mouth, slowly and carefully. He lets me lead until I brush his bottom lip with my tongue and then he pushes his fingers into my hair and really kisses me.
“We could stay in bed all day,” he whispers as he pulls away from me.
I smile. I would love to, but something tells me I’m not going to be able to play today. “Tomorrow,” I say. “Have a nice day.”
He kisses me quickly once more and then gives me a smile. “Don’t get into any trouble.”
I roll my eyes. “I won’t.”
He bounds across the room like an excited little boy and grabs his fishing rods. I’ve loved been here with him. These last two weeks, it felt like we were a real couple. We’ve shopped together, eaten out at restaurants together, swam together and acted the way couples usually act when they’re on holiday. I’ve tried not to think about what’ll happen next week when we’re supposed to be going back home. I’ve let myself get sucked into the bubble of a happy, normal relationship and it’s going to really hurt when it pops.
“See ya,” he calls over his shoulder as he walks towards the door. “Oh, and by the way, that blow job you gave me last night was the best one that I’ve ever had or will ever have again.” He grins at me and walks out of the room.
I slump back against the pillow and screw my face up as I hold on to my stomach. Sweat breaks out on my forehead and at the back of my neck. I’m feverish. Without warning, vomit jumps into my mouth and I just about make it into the bathroom before I violently throw up into the toilet. My eyes start to stream as snot falls from my nose. I can’t wipe it away because the pain in my stomach needs my attention. I wrap my hands around my waist and stumble back onto the floor.
“Help!” I call out.
No one comes into the room or even knocks on the door. My skin is on fire as I crawl across the floor in just my nightie. Tears threaten my eyes, but I don’t let them fall as I begin to shake. I somehow manage to get to my door, open it and fall into the corridor in a big, sweaty mess.
“Miss?” a man calls as he runs along the corridor to me. I lie down on my back and close my eyes, listening to his shoes squeaking on the floor as he approaches me. “Miss?” he asks again, placing his open palm underneath my head.
I open my eyes and see a flash of bright blonde hair. “I’m pregnant,” I whisper, doubling over in pain. “Argh,” I shout. “Help me!”
His big green eyes widen and shoot down to my stomach. “Okay,” he says. “Just hang in there for a second. We’ll get you some help.”
Chapter 24
NOW
Cold Feet
I tear off a chunk of bread and push it around my bowl to pick up the last remnants of soup. After the cemetery, Noah drove us to the next village over so we could eat. We’re sitting at a small table for two in the corner of the Dog & Duck pub, right next to a roaring log fire.
“I think I’ve gone nesh since moving away,” I say.
He laughs. “You know, people in the south don’t know what that word means.”
I blink up at him. “Really?”
He nods. “They don’t have gravy on their chips either.”
I put my spoon in the empty bowl and push it to the middle of the table. “Well, what do they have on their chips instead?”
He shoves the last bit of the baguette into his mouth and grins. “Just peas. Sometimes they have curry sauce, but I think the Welsh win the curry sauce contest.”
“Bleurgh,” I say with a scowl. “That’s disgusting.”
“I know,” he says.
I want to ask him where he’s been in the south to know all of this, but I don’t. If he told me he had a woman down there, I think I’d be sick right now. I don’t understand where this pang of jealousy has come from, but I feel ill whenever I recall Ben and Owen telling me he’d had lots of sex. I know I’m not one to talk, but he’s my Noah. No one else was supposed to have him.
“Why did you freak out back there?” he asks.
“Why was Candy apologising to you about her rent being delayed?” I fire back.
He frowns, clearly confused about why I’ve brought that up now. “I own the building,” he says nonchalantly.
“You own the whole building?” I ask, trying to calculate how much money he must be raking in every month.
“Yes, I purchased it about five years ago and renovated it. It’s a pretty good investment.”
I bet it is. “And that’s why you’re in the penthouse?”
He laughs. “Why should the king not live in the best tower in his own castle?”
I look at him and raise my eyebrows.
“That’s what Owen always says,” he tells me. “I just like it up there because of the roof. It’s a good space to think.”
“It’s nice,” I say.
“Do you know what it was before?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“It was a mental institute. That’s why it’s only a stone’s throw from the actual hospital. Patients that were in the hospital for reasons other than mental illness didn’t want to be in the same hospital as people who were mental. They used to think it was contagious.”
I shudder. I don’t really like the idea of living somewhere where weird things used to go on. The treatment of depression back in the old days wasn’t anything like the way they treat it now.
“You’ve done well,” I say.
He shrugs. “I imagine I’m just the same as you.”
“In what way?”
“Ridiculously wealthy thanks to our dead parents.”
I nod. My bank balance is pretty healthy, but it’s not everything. “Money makes the world go ‘round, but it doesn’t make you happy,” I say.
He raises his glass of red wine to me. “I concur.”
“I’d give it all back,” I say, clinking my glass against his.
“As would I.”
We both sip our wine and let our thoughts swarm between us. I drain my glass and sit back in my seat, curling my legs underneath me.
“So,” Noah says slowly, “let’s go back to my original question.”
I sigh loudly and try not to shudder. “I don’t really want to talk about it. Michael is the last person I want to see. I thought I’d never see him again, and I was more than happy with that.”
“So you haven’t forgiven him?”
“No,” I say, “and I never will.” I bite my lip and glance at my watch. “It’s late,” I say, peeking out of the window. “And it’s starting to snow.”
He grins at me. “I’ve got overnight stuff.”
I shuffle in my seat. “That was a little presumptuous of you. Is this for our hot night of passion in the spa hotel?”
He laughs and starts to mess with the beer coaster. “Maybe. Or perhaps I just had to get her off my back. She won’t take no for an answer.”
I smile at him. “Noah Carter, always the heartbreaker.” The words slip out of my mouth before I realise what I’ve just said. “I didn’t mean that,” I say
quickly.
He shakes his head and pushes his chair back. “It’s okay. I know what you meant.”
We pull up at a pale stone wall that’s bordered by bark shavings and hundreds of shrubs and bushes that are all lit up by tiny little white lights. “Where are we?” I ask, squinting through the darkness at a huge set of black gates.
Noah leans across me and pulls a small, black piece of plastic from out of the glove box. He presses a button and then the gates begin to swing open.
“We’re home,” he says.
I frown at him. I’m not sure which part of that little sentence has confused me more. “Home?” I repeat.
He smiles at me and drives through the opening. We make our way down a tree-lined driveway for about half a mile. Thousand of white and purple LED lights are littered along the branches of each tree, guiding us along the way
“Noah,” I say, looking eagerly out of all the windows. “Is this your house?”
He pulls up in the turning circle and turns the engine off. “Yes,” he says. “I just haven’t made it my home yet.”
I can’t speak. I don’t even think I can do the house justice by trying to describe it. It’s certainly an architectural masterpiece, that much is already clear. I get out of the car and slam my door shut as my eyes take it all in.
It seems to be a completely different shape than what I remember. Timber that has turned almost silver from the weather clads the majority of the funky-shaped building. The other bits are either glass or cream-coloured concrete. The windows are all different shapes and sizes but it seems to work. The front door is one huge piece of oak and is about as wide as two normal front doors. Directly above the door is a vertical, rectangle-shaped window that is virtually the same length as the height of the house. Through it I can see the oak staircase inside that is walled by thousands of books sitting on built-in shelves. The dimmed lights start to switch on in every room. I turn to Noah and see him messing with his phone.
“I can control every piece of technology in the house from my phone.” He shrugs as if it doesn’t impress him. “Apparently, it’s the latest thing.”
Noah and Me Page 18
