by Nora Flite
We hovered there—a moment that was as tense, as transparent, as fishing line. “Noel,” I said, hoping to magically say something sensible.
She curled tiny fingers in the collar of my jacket. On tip-toe, Noel shut me up with a kiss. It was bright as new rain, but it left dark clouds in its place when she finished. “Stop trying to scare me away.” She peeled the opening of her coat aside, put the blemishes on display. “These don't bother me. If they did, I wouldn't have let you do them.”
My smile was crooked. “You don't 'let' me do anything. You couldn't stop me.”
Noel hesitated, considered me carefully. “If I told you to stop, you wouldn't listen?”
“No. I wouldn't.” That was an easy question to answer.
Uncertainty flashed on her face. Good. This is it, now she gets the danger. Noel would finally realize she was risking her life with me. I'd come close to choking her to death twice now—hadn't I? She had to know, then she could do the smart thing and run.
I wanted her to run...
Or I had.
Now, the idea of her rejection planted a hard, gnarled pit up in my throat.
“Listen. If you want this,” she said, pointing between us, “to keep going... you have to be more careful.” Her hand brushed her jugular. “People can't see this stuff. I have months left in this program. I need to finish it. I don't want to be expelled or forbidden from participating... you don't want to be fired.”
I couldn't blink; couldn't breathe. Noel wanted to protect us—this fucked up thing that we had going. I was reeling, unable to make sense of her at all.
She touched my cheek, startling me. “No bruises over the shoulder line, nothing past the wrist where I can't hide it,” she whispered. “No more savage make-outs in public. And we need to behave in class.”
My grip wrapped around her hand. Turning it, I studied her thin fingers. How was such a small woman so confident, so brave? I'd seen this side when she was dancing, but to channel it to stand up to me, the man who'd left her more damaged each time we were together...
“In class, in public,” I said quietly. “No visible marks, I won't get you expelled.” My teeth grazed the brittle skin of her wrist—true to my word, I left no sign I'd been there.“But when we're alone, Noel Addison? In those moments, you belong to me.”
With red cheeks, she pulled away. “I should go inside. It's really late, I hope no one noticed I was gone.”
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, I nodded. “Then I'll see you in the morning.”
Noel shot me a tiny smile, slipping through the front door. I watched her until she was gone, lingering on the steps for some time. Her smell had invaded my nostrils, my clothes.
Everything.
I'd set out that night to sate my powerful need for Noel. I'd roughed her up, surely been inches from throttling her. The memory of her pulse in my grip set my cells ablaze. After all of that, Noel had kissed me and asked me to follow her rules.
It was laughable.
Turning my hand, I looked at the lines crossing the surface. It reminded me of my ceiling, all three hundred and six cracks. I didn't want to go back to my place alone.
I wanted to slip into the house, find Noel, and...
The front door slammed open.
“Carter! Carter, I need help!”
Spinning, I stared at the vision of a frantic Noel. There, half in her arms and mostly dragging on the floor, was Cally. “Help her, please! Something is wrong!” Noel sobbed. The pretty face I'd been kissing was shiny with wet terror.
Cally looked awful, hunched low and gasping for air. I didn't hesitate. Scooping her up, I climbed onto my bike with the thin girl in my arms. Had she always been so light? “Get on,” I snapped at Noel. “She needs to go to the hospital right the fuck now!”
My motorcycle's engine was furious when it jerked to life.
- Chapter Ten -
Noel Addison
My hands were clammy. Every time I walked by her room, it happened. I'd even tried keeping her door shut. That only made it worse. I'd picture her there, her body crumpled as she shook and sobbed.
Cally had been such a tight ball of arms and knees. And, God, the things she had been mumbling... “Please please please,” she'd whimpered. “Don't do this, don't take her from me. You can't! Stop, stop stop stop!”
Those chilling pleas sank into my marrow.
The only other person I'd seen like that—No. Stop it. Associating Cally with my mother was a foolish move.
My mother was dead.
Cally was not.
The way she'd been sweating and crying, I'd worried all night at the hospital that she WOULD die. Carter had sat with me in the waiting room. I'd insisted he leave, that I could handle this alone.
Eventually, his shoulder was where I fell asleep.
With no emergency number to call, or family to apparently reach, the doctors relented and told us her status in the morning. “Burst appendix,” the young woman said, flipping through her chart. “It was bad. I'm shocked she didn't feel it coming.”
“She'll be fine, right?” I'd asked in a panic.
“Now, yes.” She looked over her glasses at me. “Your friend is lucky you got her here when you did. It was touch and go, I'll be honest. Miss Mitchell will need to stay here for two weeks. After we release her, she'll bed rest. I'd suggest she not do anything strenuous for a few months.”
Months.
Carter had behaved strangely when he heard that. I thought he was about to break something. At his sides, his knuckles were clenched and pure white.
I was relieved my friend would be fine, but... it was a chore not to feel deflated. I wanted to fix it; to just make it all better.
Of course, that was impossible.
And without Cally, our tiny studio grew even smaller.
****
Spring came in with an explosion of color. Blue skies, buttery yellow flowers, Paris was a living oil painting. It was great to have the sun again. I gambled with the occasional brisk day, determined to expose my arms to the air.
For my final semester, I'd taken on a side class at the nearby campus. It wasn't affiliated with Rosella, but I was after anything that would keep my mind busy. Taking a French language class was logical enough.
In only a few weeks, it had been a great help.
Wandering back towards Lavender House, my path veered near the studio. It was unconscious at first, but I knew what I was doing when I spotted the familiar row of hedges. Come on, Noel. You added in an evening class to cut DOWN on the meetings with him.
But here I was, heading towards Carter again. I'd never felt such a strong pull towards anyone in my life.
After my first night at his apartment, things had changed. I'd crossed a threshold, wanted to keep things going with him. Carter was too enticing. I was wrapped up in him and didn't want to stop. I also couldn't risk being expelled.
It had been a relief when he agreed to follow my request for subtlety. Did he do it for himself, or for me? I didn't know.
Closing in on the building, my blood already pumping, I stopped in my tracks. There were two men outside of the studio. One of them, even facing away, I could tell was Carter. His broad, tight shoulders were unmistakable.
But the other...
Walking closer, my ears strained to hear the conversation.
“...Not happy either, Carter.” French and lyrical; Mr. Vince.
Carter was talking so low I expected him to spit gravel. “Then do something about it.”
“It's not that easy! Rosella Ballet has been fading for years. None of the companies or other schools care we exist.”
“And you think that's my fault.”
“Of course not!” Vince went from flustered to apologetic in a snap. “I wouldn't have asked you to come if I thought you couldn't do the job. Carter, we haven't had a notable student in who knows how long! Our reputation is dead in the water.” Sighing through his nose, I got close enough to see the director's eyes w
ere wet. “What am I to do? I can't afford to keep it going. No one has even applied for next year, no one! That's our reality.”
Before Carter could respond, I was jumping the hedges to reach them. “You're closing the studio?” I accused, flicking my eyes between them wildly.
Mr. Vince lifted his hands like I was about to throw a punch. “Miss Addison! What are you—”
“I heard you talking, you said Rosella was failing.” Air struggled through my lungs, my chest rising. Next to me, Carter was a silent observer. “No students. That means no money, right?”
He looked towards Carter, but the taller man just folded his arms. “I—well—yes, that's how it works.” Wiping his forehead, Mr. Vince sighed. “Miss Addison—Noel... please, calm down. This is a private conversation. It doesn't involve you.”
“It does involve her,” Carter said casually. His gaze fell to me, a brooding sort of calm. “You just said we haven't had any 'notable' students. That's not true.”
The head of the program sputtered. “I didn't say she wasn't talented.”
“Noel is better than anyone else here.” Carter raised his chin, gave me a half-smile. “Leagues better.”
Okay, now I was the one sputtering.
The director was at a loss. He straightened his vest, considering Carter and me. “It doesn't matter how good she is. No one knows about it.”
“Then,” I said, desperate to solve the problem, “we'll show them.”
“Show who?” Mr. Vince asked.
“Everyone!” I shouted, my hands waving over my head. I was gesturing wildly, the plan forming in bits as I spoke. “We're supposed to perform at the end of the program anyway, right?” I didn't wait for an answer. “Why not advertise it, reach out to the other schools and companies. We can organize, showcase what kind of dancers Rosella Ballet can produce!”
The director was rubbing his mouth, perplexed. “That might work. It's not a bad suggestion, anyway.”
Carter loomed over us, the sun behind his head in the late hour. “A reminder. There's only five students, now that Cally Mitchell is recovering. It'd be a very small performance.”
“We could each perform solos! Then, people would really see the talent we all have,” I insisted. Narrowing my eyes up at Carter, I expected him to argue with me. It sounded like he was trying to shove my suggestion out the window.
His smile started slow; it never fully formed. “Not all of you. Just one.”
It was a compliment, but it didn't sit in my stomach well.
“He's right,” Mr. Vince said abruptly. Nodding to himself, he gave me a thoughtful look. “I know you're quite good. I could pull some strings with the nearby Westward Theater, I'm old friends with the owner. He'd probably let us use their stage.”
My heart felt too big. It kept growing. “Then let's do it. It's worth a shot, right?”
Vince's eyes crinkled at the edges. “Yes. Quite right.” Turning, he gave Carter a firm pat on the shoulder. “I trust you'll help get them ready. A small performance is no good if it impresses no one.”
Deep furrows rose between Carter's eyebrows. He said nothing.
We watched the older man leave, his hand firmly clasped to his chin in deep thought. When he was out of sight, I felt Carter's fingers close on my hand. Peeking up, I was surprised by his severe frown. “What is it?” I asked.
His lips scrunched, then smoothed. Letting me go, Carter waved me into the empty studio. I thought he wanted privacy, a moment alone with me. When we entered, he paced around the room and pointed. “Explain this to me.”
“I—explain what?” My eyes traveled the wood beams, the small windows up high. One of them had tape covering a crack.
“I'm trying to figure you out.” He came my way; stopped in the center of the room. “What you did back there, rushing in to rescue—all of this?” His arms went wide. “This broken building? Why would you even bother?”
A thin, cold needle of ice dug into me. Reaching down, I toyed with the golden ring. I hadn't removed it since I'd put it on. I was still too anxious to confront Carter about it. “Sometimes things need to be rescued.”
“You'd need a good reason to spend effort on a failure like this place.”
I curled my fists. “You've never stepped in to save something when no one else would?”
That perfectly shaped nose crinkled. “If no one else would, it clearly wasn't worth saving.”
God, that needle became a glacier in my heart. On my finger, the ring was throbbing. He just doesn't remember. How? “Then trying to explain it to you would be pointless,” I snapped.
His long legs brought him to me. I saw him reach out; I dodged, too full of disgust to want him to touch me. “Noel!”
He said my name like it was a curse. That was fine. In that moment, I already felt banished. Carter was fast, but so was I. Fluidly I ducked, spinning past him and rushing for the door.
Carter was a blur. To an outsider, the hunter and hunted dance would have been beautiful. He shouted—I think it was my name again—before catching me around the waist.
“Let me go!” I screamed, his warmth enveloping me. “Don't touch me! Just go!”
Spinning me, he forced us face to face. “I'm not trying to upset you, Noel! I'm just...” His sentence floated away. He saw my tears before I felt them. Burning streams rolled down my cheeks. “Noel?”
I yanked backwards. It was useless, Carter had my forearms. “Please, leave me alone. I don't want to talk about this.” Unable to meet his stare, I looked to the side, saw myself in a mirror. That wasn't better.
“Talk about what?” Carter shook me, his voice getting throaty.
My vision swam away from me. “You don't remember,” I whispered.
“Remember what? Noel, just explain it to me!”
“It doesn't make sense...” Everything and all of it. “If you can forget me... forget that day, then...”
My teeth rattled from his jostling. Through the hot fog, I sensed his desperation. “Why won't you just fucking talk to me?” Carter was acting like he hadn't heard me. “Tell me what you want me to do!”
Purple and grey tickled the edges of my eyeballs. He doesn't remember me. And... and soon, no one will remember. Images of bones; of corpses. I was descending down slippery stairs and surrounding myself with the forgotten. The dead.
Was I going to faint? “Nothing. You can't do anything.”
“I can! If you talk to me, I can—”
The rope holding me together frayed away—and I gave up. “Talking can't bring her back!” I screamed. Such a wall of rage. It coiled upwards, mixed with my regret and all the parts of me that were furious about the unfairness in the world.
Cally in the hospital.
Valerie calling me a slut.
The studio on the verge of closing down.
Carter not remembering me.
My father being alone.
And my mother...
This wasn't about Carter at all. Him forgetting our first meeting didn't matter—it only hurt because I kept thinking about her not being remembered. The bones in the Catacombs had been the closest peek into my deepest fear. My mother dying had left behind a savage, never healing scar.
I didn't want the world to forget about her.
She'd been so beautiful, so elegant when she danced. The cancer had torn it all from her, left behind a ghost who talked about the past and never the present. I'd been forced to watch her melt away like bits of sand eroded away by the tide. If I died, and my father died, there would at least... at least the studio she'd loved would still remain.
Shaking with tears, my legs gave out. Carter held me, kept me from falling and brought us down on our knees so softly. My cheek smeared the dampness on his shirt; it was soaked.
“Bring who back?” he whispered.
“My mother.” It tumbled from my lips. I didn't struggle to hold it in. “My mother... she died over half a year ago.” Only half a year ago. That was the way I saw it. Grief was a cruel th
ing. It was invisible, ready to rise up and take over at any second.
The day Mom had died, I'd done such a good job of shoving my emotions down deep. My fear, the loss... I'd focused on my plan—our plan—and that had kept me going.
Carter cradled me, rocked me while petting my hair. “I'm so sorry, Noel. I didn't know.”
Closing my eyes tight, I willed the tears away. They didn't listen. “This studio... this is where she danced, when she was my age. She came here and trained. Mom talked about it so much, she really loved it here.”
He went stiff, but kept stroking my hair. “That's why you don't want it to close down.”
I said nothing.
For a long time he held me like that. While the sun set, Carter embraced me and let me cry. My eyes stopped making moisture before my heart was finally exhausted. Gingerly, he clasped my cheeks so he could look at me closely. His shirt stuck to my skin before peeling away. “When I was eighteen,” he said very calmly, “I lost both of my parents.”
Empathy welled up in me. “Oh, God. Carter, I'm so sorry.”
He shook his head, rubbing thumbs on my tear stains. “It's fine now. What happened to them...” he trailed off. His eyes transfixed elsewhere, seeing something I wasn't... something far away and all consuming. Shivering, he refocused on me. “I'm telling you so that you know I can relate. Losing your parents is... there's nothing else like it.” Again, that funny stare.
Reaching out, I felt the smoothness of his cheekbone. He wasn't crying, but I was desperate to offer comfort. “I'm sorry I got snot all over your shirt,” I whispered.
His grin was shocking, for both of us. Hugging me until my lungs wheezed, Carter kissed me. He tasted like plums and my own salty tang. “I'm sorry I pushed so hard to understand,” he sighed. “This place has more meaning for you than it does for me. I'll help you anyway I can, Noel. I promise.”
Hugging him violently, I discovered my body did have more tears to share.
- Chapter Eleven -
Noel Addison
“Surprise!” I cheered, offering the bouquet of lilacs and the pretty wrapped box of macaroons.
