Truly

by Carmel Rhodes

  He shakes his head. “Basketball is my end game. If that doesn’t happen…” His voice trails off, and he moves his hand from my leg. I’m saddened by the loss of his heat, but maybe it’s better this way. When he’s touching me, it’s easy to forget that he’s the bad guy, the monster from my nightmares. Maybe he was right. Maybe I’m afraid of sex with him because I don’t know what that means for me. “My turn to ask the questions.”

  “Fair,” I agree. Noah has given me so much to digest already. If I ask anything more, it might make my head explode.

  “Why are you still a virgin?”

  I toss my hands up in frustration. “Are you only ever gonna ask me sex stuff?”

  “Your favorite color is purple,” he says waving a hand towards my head. “You prefer tea over coffee and hot chocolate over everything. You play with that ring on your thumb when you’re nervous. You want to major in photography, but probably won’t because what can you even do with a degree in photography? The only time I’ve ever really seen you let your guard down is in the moments just before you come.” He glances over at me, a smug smirk parked on his smug face. “I might not know everything, but I know more than you think.”

  My mouth drops open. I figured Noah never asked me serious questions because he didn’t care about getting to know me. I never considered the fact that he already kinda did. “You noticed all that in just a few days?”

  “I’ve always noticed you, Little One. Now, stop deflecting and answer the fucking question.”

  I blink at him, torn between wanting to throat punch him and kiss him. Instead, I answer the fucking question. “It just never came up.” Heat crawls up my neck at my choice of words. “I mean, it came up…a bunch of times...like so many times...”

  “Got it, my brother’s dick gets hard. Thanks for the visual.” Noah flicks on his turn signal with a little more force than necessary and changes lanes.

  “You asked! You can’t get all growly at the answer.”

  “She has a point you know.” Ethan laughs from the backseat.

  I whip my head around to find him grinning like an idiot. “How long have you been eavesdropping?”

  “Eavesdropping?” he says, affronted. “We’re in a sedan! It isn’t my fault you two decided to have a heart-to-heart in mixed company. Also, what’s tree housing?”

  I want to die. I want to roll into a tiny little ball and die. “Pull over,” I grit. “Ethan, you’re the map. I’m going to sleep.” My brain needs a hard reset.

  Noah laughs and pulls off to the side of the road. Ethan takes over driving, Noah settles into the passenger seat, and we get back on the road. The guys change the topic of conversation to basketball and before long, I fall into a dreamless sleep.

  I’m jolted awake sometime later as the car rolls to a stop inside the hotel’s parking garage. We decided to spend the extra money to stay in the French Quarter since that’s where we plan to spend most of our time. We were lucky enough to find an older motel just a couple blocks away from Bourbon Street.

  “We’ll go check-in.” Becca stretches her arms over her head. She and Ethan get out and I reach for my phone.

  “Looking for this,” Noah asks, his voice cold and detached. The garage is dimly lit, casting a dark shadow over his face.

  Something is off. His posture, the tone of his voice, his eyes are darker than they were before I fell asleep. This is the Noah from my nightmares. I freeze, knowing that I’m fucked. I just don’t know how badly.

  “Why do you have this?”

  “We were using your GPS, remember?”

  “Okay…”

  “You’re texting him.” It’s a statement and accusation all wrapped up into one.

  Guilt niggles at my belly, which is ridiculous. I have nothing to be guilty for. Noah, on the other hand... “You went through my phone? You had no right to do that.”

  “Do you still love him?” he asks, not bothering to look at me.

  He’s hurt. I hurt him and instead of expressing that emotion like a normal human being, Noah goes dark. I’ve been on the receiving end of dark Noah before and I’m not eager for a repeat performance.

  “Noah,” I try, softening my voice, “you’ve been nice to me for two days. I was with him for two years. I thought I’d be with him forever. Our break-up blindsided me. We weren’t going through a hard time. We weren’t growing apart. He just ended it. Of course, I still have feelings for him. I can’t just shut them off.”

  His eyes finally meet mine. “Then why the fuck am I being nice?” He grunts before pushing his way out of the car and slamming the door so hard the glass rattles.

  Ethan and Becca return as Noah storms past. “Who pissed in his Cheerios?” Ethan asks, popping his head in the car.

  “Me, apparently.”

  “I’m on it.” Ethan gives Becca a kiss before heading in the direction Noah stomped off.

  “Girls night it is.” Becca hands me a room key. “Let’s go settle in and you can tell me all about it.”

  Our room is on the second floor of the small French-themed hotel. It’s an older building. The furnishings are a bit dated, but it’s clean, in our price range, and walking distance to Bourbon Street.

  “So, why is Noah so pissed?” Becca asks, joining me on one of the beds.

  I twirl the gold band around my thumb as I confess. “I texted Devin yesterday and he saw.”

  “Tru, I love you deep.”

  “Deep, deep.” I sigh, bracing myself for whatever it is she’s about to hit me with.

  “You shouldn’t be texting Devin at all, let alone after spending the day boo’d up with Noah. He kinda has a right to be pissed.”

  I roll my eyes. “We weren’t boo’d up.”

  “His tongue was in your mouth more than it was in his own.” She shoots me her judgy eyes. The same eyes she gave me after I showed up at her house with purple-hair and a nose ring back in tenth grade.

  I toss a pillow at her head. “Whose side are you on?”

  “Yours, always.” She grabs my hand in hers. “But you’re sending him mixed signals. If you aren’t into it, then fine, he’ll survive, but you can’t go around eating his waffles and kissing him while texting his brother. It’s not fair.”

  I chew on her words for a bit. Noah has been the villain of my story for so long now, it’s strange to think about casting him as anything else. But even I can admit that these last couple of days have been almost nice. “I wish I weren’t into it. It would make my life a hell of a lot easier, but...I am...into him,” I whisper. “But I can’t just shut off what I felt for Devin either.”

  “Devin isn’t here. Noah is and he’s hot, and rich, and completely obsessed with you. What would be the harm in giving him a chance?”

  “Because he’s also a psychopath with a god complex?” I deadpan.

  Becca shrugs. “Ethan has a small penis, but he knows how to use it.”

  I laugh. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “No one’s perfect. You just gotta learn to take the good with the bad.”

  “Sounds like settling,” I say.

  “It’s only settling if the bad outweighs the good. I can search my whole life for the perfect man and never find him. I want a real man who loves me, one who may not be everything I want, but who’s willing to be what I need.”

  “Is Ethan that for you?” I ask.

  “Hell if I know. I’m only eighteen, but I like him and I like being around him, so I’ll deal with the small dick because he makes me laugh and he’s real good at eating pussy.”

  My cheeks flush. I throw another pillow at her head, but she catches this one. “What if he doesn’t forgive me?” I ask, biting my bottom lip.

  Becca’s eyes go all wonky like they do when she’s concocting a plan. “Do you trust me?”

  “Not when you’re looking at me like that.”

  She gets up and goes to her suitcase and pulls out a scrap of fabric that I think is supposed to be a dress. “He isn’t
going to know what hit him.”

  I stare at my smoky-eyed reflection in awe. The dress fits me like a glove. It’s brown, the same shade as my skin, falls just below the knee, and hugs every curve of my body. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this sexy in my entire life. Considering the amount of time Becca took, buffing and polishing and painting my face, I’d say it was worth it. I just hope Noah agrees.

  “Did Kai give you her ID?” Becca asks putting a coat of gloss over my nude lips.

  “Yeah,” I say pressing it in. “I had to give her a hundred bucks for it.”

  “That’s a deal. I paid three hundred for mine and the girl doesn’t even look like me. Kai could be your sister.”

  Becca’s phone pings and she runs to grab it from the nightstand. She’s wearing all white and looks like a slutty angel. When I told her as much earlier, she curtsied, saying that was the point. “Ethan says they’re at a bar not far from here.” She types out a quick reply, then grabs her bag from the dresser. “Let’s go.”

  The warm night air hits my face as we make our way down the street on wobbly legs. Becca said I needed to relax a little, which led to us taking shots of spiced rum while we got ready. Thankfully, the bar is just a block away from the hotel. The guy at the door barely looks at our ID’s before sticking an over twenty-one band around our wrists and waving us inside. Becca spots the guys at the bar flanked by a couple of girls dressed head to toe in clothes that could have only come from an Instagram boutique.

  Ethan stands with his hands in his pockets and a polite smile parked on his lips. Noah, however, is sitting on the stool with one of the girls perched between his legs. I scowl in their direction, unsure of why I even care. Noah is a dick. The bad definitely outweighs the good. He can flirt with little miss Fashion Nova all he wants.

  I’m young, single, and in New Orleans. “What do you want to do?” Becca asks. I don’t think Noah being a sleazy douche was a part of her plan.

  “Drink and dance,” I tell her. “In that order.”

  “With them?” She thumbs towards the guys.

  Noah’s eyes bore into my skull as he drinks me in. His hand slides up the girl’s leg, and I know he’s only doing it to piss me off, but I’m not moved. So what, I texted Devin? If he can’t talk to me about it like an adult, then why am I even wasting my time?

  Glancing around the small club, I spot another bar in the back. “Over there.”

  Becca nods and grabs my hand, leading me through bodies. We order two rounds of shots, rum that tastes like strawberries, and head to the dance floor.”

  Our bodies sway to the beat and before long, Ethan is there with his arms around his girl. I look back to where Noah is still standing with the girl tucked into his side. Fucking asshole. I’m not going to cry for him. Fuck him.

  “I’m going to get another drink,” I yell over the music. I head to the bar, needing more of the syrupy sweet rum to deal with this night. I order my shot and settle onto the stool. When the bartender returns, I go to hand her my debit card, but a long arm reaches out with a twenty. He winks at me, telling the bartender to keep the change.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I say, stealing a glance at the man who just bought my drink. He’s tall, with blond hair and green eyes, and looks like he’s in college. He’s got a dimple in his cheek when he smiles. Handsome, in an Abercrombie sort of way, like he rows crew or plays lacrosse.

  “I know, but I saw you here, sitting alone and I knew I’d kick myself if I let some other bastard buy your drinks.”

  I chuckle and twist the gold band around my thumb. “You’re sweet.”

  “I’m honest. Every guy in here is staring at you.”

  “Everyone but my guy.” My gaze trails over to Noah who’s staring daggers at me.

  Abercrombie Model follows my line of sight. “He’s staring now.”

  “Because you’re talking to me.”

  “You wanna make him jealous?” he asks with a mischievous glint in his eyes. His hand settles on my lower back. “Dance with me?”

  I knock back my shot and stand, letting him lead me to the dance floor. The song is an up tempo beat, but he pulls me into his arms. His hard body presses against my soft one as we sway. “What’s your name?” he asks.

  “Truly,” I respond.

  “Of course, she has a sexy name.” His hands dip lower. “Is this okay?” The fact that he’s asking makes me smile. Noah just grabs and touches me whenever he wants. It’s nice to be asked for a change.

  “Yeah, it’s okay.”

  We sway some more. The rum and his gentle touch make me warm on the inside. “You never told me your name,” I say as the song changes.

  “It’s Bryce—” he starts, but I’m pulled from his arms just as I hear it.

  Noah wedges his body between us, his back heaving up and down with rage.

  “Guess our plan worked.” Bryce grins. “If you get tired of playing games, I’ll be at the bar.”

  Noah stares at his back as he saunters away. Anger rolls through my body. Bryce is nice. Bryce is normal. Why can’t I be attracted to nice and normal?

  I push his chest with as much force as I can muster. “I hate you,” I spit.

  “Yeah, well the feeling’s fucking mutual.” He grabs my arm and pulls me through the crowded bar. I can smell her on him. Her scent is so cloyingly sweet it makes my stomach roll.

  I struggle to free myself, pushing and pulling and stumbling my way past the bouncer and out onto the night. Noah’s grip is firm as he drags me down Bourbon Street. “I wish I had never laid eyes on you. I wish I never went to that stupid fucking party. You ruined me.” Hot, angry tears stream down my face, as I struggle to keep up with his pace. “I hate you so fucking much.”

  Noah pauses, spinning on his heels to face me. Leaning down so that we are eye to eye, he seethes. “If you hate me so much, then why’d you get all dressed in your slutty clothes and follow me to the bar?” He tugs at the strap of my dress, pulling it from my skin and letting it snap back with a pop. “Did you think if I saw you in this, I’d want to fuck you? Is that it, Little One? You want me to fuck him out of your system?”

  “You’re disgusting.” I brush past him. We’re close enough to the hotel I can see the awning. I just need to keep it together long enough to get back to my room. “And I can still smell her on you.” I toss over my shoulder. “I’d rather die than ever let you touch me when you reek of another woman.”

  I make it to the hotel entrance and up to the second floor with Noah hot on my heels. Just as I reach my door, my body is forced backwards by my hair. Noah’s voice slides down my spine as cold as an ice cube, sending a wave of chills through me. “I’m done being nice, remember? You can bring your little ass willingly or I can throw you over my shoulder and carry you to my room kicking and screaming. Either way, you’re coming with me.”

  “Rot in hell.”

  “Hard way it is.” I can feel his smirk against my neck, same as I feel his erection digging into the small of my back. He likes me feisty, and I fear I’ve just thrown down the gauntlet for an opponent who is all too eager to pick it up.

  Spinning me, he lifts me over his shoulder and carries me down the hall to his room. My body buzzes with this odd mix of anger, trepidation, and excitement. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am the one with the skewed moral compass. All I know is, as much as this man infuriates me, there’s a part deep down that likes the fight.

  I punch his back in vain, but he doesn’t stop until we are tucked inside his room. He drags me straight to the bathroom, depositing me on the counter. His eyes bore into mine. The normally umber color is almost black with lust or rage or some combination of the two. “You make me crazy, Little One.” His voice is low and animalistic, like he’s holding onto his humanity by a single thread. I swallow, watching as he steps back to turn on the shower.

  Noah likes to dominate me. He likes to hurt me. My scalp is still prickling as evidence to that fact, but he also seems to care about me in hi
s own twisted way. And maybe that makes my own twisted heart beat just a little harder for him.

  Peeling his shirt over his head, he tosses it at my feet. My eyes trace the planes of his muscles, the curve of his bicep, the dip at his hip, and the smattering of hair trailing from his navel down, disappearing beneath the band of his jeans. His shoes go next and he kicks them away effortlessly.

  My teeth sink into my bottom lip, and I adjust myself on the counter. The steam from the shower makes my thighs stick to the porcelain.

  The sound of a zipper sliding down catches my attention. Lust tints my vision as Noah drags the denim, along with his boxers, down his legs. His penis springs free, long and thick and veined. He fists it once before settling between my legs. I can’t help but stare. I’ve seen it before—that night—felt the weight of it against my tongue, but in the hazy light of the bathroom, in the wake of the last few days, seeing it now sends a thrill of nervousness shooting through me.

  Noah bends down to push my heels off. They fall to the ground with a thud. The sound, finite. There’s no going back now. First, I lose the shoes, then the dress, then my hymen.

  Helping me to my feet, he turns me around, pulling the dress down my arms and pushing the fabric over my hips and down my legs. My breasts are heavy with want, my nipples hardened to the point of pain. Noah presses a kiss on my ass before hooking his thumbs into my panties and pulling them down as well.

  As I step out of the fabric, my braids sway across my bare back. Noah leads me into the shower and lets his head fall under the hot spray. Water beads and drips down his chest, and the tension in his shoulders lessens.

  “You wanted me clean,” he says, nodding to the bath products lined along the ledge.

  “Because you smell like a whore,” I grit, reaching for a bottle. I flip the cap and take a whiff, closing it just as quickly. The smell is wrong. I grab the other bottle and test it. This one is right. This one is Noah, clean with just a hint of spice. I squeeze some in my palm, rubbing together until it lathers. I start working on his neck and shoulders, running my hands down his chest, and over his shaft, tugging with a little more force than necessary. “How would you feel if I came to you smelling like another man?”