Saving Noah

by Shandi Boyes

“I’m not a slut.”

  Noah balks, stunned by my snapped comment. “I never said you were.”

  Honesty is written all over his face, but it does little to weaken the devastation crossing mine.

  “No. You just insinuated it.”

  “No, Emily, I didn’t mean it like that.” His raging heartbeat almost drowns out what he says next, “I swear, I’d never think of you like that.”

  Chapter 14

  Noah

  The instant my question escaped my lips, I knew I had fucked up. I didn’t ask Emily if she had slept with Nick because I think she’s a slut; it’s because I know Nick is. He’s the very definition of a man-whore, and he doesn’t care who he stomps on to maintain his title.

  When I introduced them, recognition dawned on Emily’s face. She stared at him with her mouth ajar and her eyes wide. I couldn’t tell if she was shocked to see him again or happy. She was giving off both vibes. When her eyes twitched, like she was recalling a memory, I began to wonder how well they knew one another.

  Out of all of my bandmates, Nick is the biggest player. His ideas about relationships conflict with Jacob’s. He’s never been in love and isn’t planning to fall in love. But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t had a lot of partners.

  He spends his weekends trolling nightclubs and bars for women. A seed of doubt flourished in my head when I recalled Emily saying she had borrowed Lola’s ID a handful of times. The idea of Nick touching her infuriates me. Not just because I’ve developed feelings for Emily I swore I’d never have but because Emily deserves better than a douchebag like Nick. He may be my bandmate, but he is not a good person.

  I've lost count of the number of women he slept with after Marcus, Slater, and me. I never used to care. If he wanted my sloppy seconds, I was fine with it—as long as it was after I had finished with them, but the band nearly broke up after he slept with Slater’s fiancée, Nikki.

  Nick made out he was showing Slater how slutty Nikki was, but he went about it the wrong way. We all knew Nikki was bad for Slater, but it wasn’t our place to say who he should or shouldn’t date. Nick is lucky he's fast because if Slater had gotten ahold of him the night he walked in on him and Nikki together, I’m sure Nick would be dead.

  Things have been strained with our band since then. That’s why Slater now meets us at Mavericks, instead of traveling with us like we used to. I thought the effort Nick put in the past three years had convinced me he was a changed man. Clearly, I was wrong—not just about Nick, but at my beliefs I knew how to swoon. This is not how I planned our night to start.

  “I’m sorry for what I said, but I swear, I would never think of you like that.” When Emily’s chin balances on her chest, I raise her head back to its rightful place. “Whatever we’re forming is new, but I hope you realize I’d never intentionally hurt you.”

  Before she can reply, Jacob’s car pulls into the dusty parking lot at the back of Mavs. When the guys pile out, I ask Marcus to let them know I'll be there in a minute. I take my commitments seriously, but making sure Emily is okay is my only priority right now. What I said is true, our relationship is as fresh as a newborn baby, but the instant connection I felt for her months ago has grown astronomically since she became my girl.

  Once the guys have left, I scoot back so I can get a better look at Emily. Her cheeks are dry, but her eyes are brimming with unshed tears. “Are you okay?”

  I feel like the biggest asshole in the world. I wanted to spend our night showing her one of my greatest passions, but instead, I’ve made her feel like shit. This isn’t my idea of a fun night and proves I need more than a bit of help in the romance department.

  Emily’s teeth graze her sexy painted lips before she murmurs, “Can I be brutally honest with you?”

  I nod without hesitation. “Of course.”

  She exhales deeply before telling me about the consequences that arose from her last relationship. Although she tiptoes around the word "virginity," I'm reasonably sure that's what she's referencing. For an ordinary guy, her openness would be troubling, but I’m anything but ordinary. We’ve talked so much the past month, I’m shocked we have anything left to discuss.

  Listening to the first half of her story kills me—I knew someone as beautiful as her wouldn’t be untouched, but a small piece of me was hoping I could give her all her firsts—but the last half utterly guts me. How could Zander watch her be attacked in front of half the school and not do anything about it? It reveals how much of a dog he is.

  “I swear I didn’t know he had a girlfriend, let alone a long-term one.” Emily sweeps her hand across her cheeks, ensuring they’re still dry. “The rest of the semester, I was bullied by the senior girls all while dodging propositions by guys who believed the rumors.”

  I struggle to find an appropriate response. Nothing I can say will ease her pain, so instead, I offer her my sympathy with actions instead of words. I press my lips to her temple while running my hand down her smooth, straight locks. I expect her to pull away like she did earlier, so you can imagine my surprise when she accepts my support by nuzzling into my chest so she can drink in my scent.

  Although I still want to strangle Zander, a few minutes of silence does wonders for my anger. “I’m sorry you were treated that way.” My agitation is subsiding, but my words still arrive with a growl. “High school sucks as it is, without additional drama.”

  Hearing something I didn't mean to express, Emily's head pops off my chest. She doesn't say anything, but I can see a million questions in her eyes. As I said earlier, we've talked a lot, but I still haven't worked up the courage to tell her about my brothers. I will one day, just not today.

  After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Emily murmurs, “I’m reasonably sure I saw Nick at the dance club last month.” Any awkwardness lingering fades when she smiles. “He was dancing with my friend Jenni.”

  I inwardly curse when excitement crosses her features. She appears pleased for her friend.

  She shouldn’t be. If she genuinely cares for Jenni, she should tell her to steer clear of Nick.

  I’m about to break a bro-code I’ve never broken, but if I don’t warn Emily about Nick, her friend will get hurt. Usually, that wouldn’t bother me, but if Jenni gets burnt by Nick, Emily will get burnt. That's something I won’t stand for.

  “Your friend should stay away from Nick. He can’t be trusted.”

  Emily’s smile falters, but she remains quiet, waiting for me to elaborate.

  I follow along nicely. “Nick is a player; your friend will get hurt if she isn’t careful.”

  It feels wrong ratting Nick out like this, but at the end of the day, he deserves it. It might even force him to clean his act up.

  “Oh...”

  Emily’s forlorn face makes me suspicious Nick has already gotten his hooks into Jenni. Before I can ask for more details, Jacob’s deep timbre ripples through the air. “Soundcheck in five minutes." His voice projects from the entrance of Mavs. “Ollie said if your ass isn’t on stage by then, he’s docking your pay.”

  Like fuck he will. He charges more for a pint of beer Friday nights than any other night of the week because of the hundreds of patrons my band attracts, so he sure as hell won’t be slicing the pittance he pays me.

  I stop clenching and unclenching my fists when Emily giggles. It’s a beautiful thing to hear after such a turbulent start to our evening. “Maybe we should head in?”

  “Are you sure you’re ready?”

  Smiling, she nods. “I’m so excited, I might pee!”

  I laugh, loving both her honesty and how at ease she is with me already. It shows that not even a month of turmoil could kill her spirit. I completely misjudged her three months ago. She's not shy. She's a fighter.

  After sliding out of the car, I offer my hand to Emily to help her out, her smile turning blinding when she accepts my gesture. We walk into Mavericks hand in hand. I’ve been here hundreds of times before, but you can tell it’s Emily’s first. Her eyes bou
nce around the space, absorbing its eccentric details.

  An old wood bar lines a wall housing hundreds of bottles of alcohol on glass shelves. Smoke hovers above our heads from the regulars washing down their beers with a cigarette, and two billiard tables are near the back wall just left of the restrooms. To our left is the stage. Ollie supplies most of the equipment, but we occasionally switch it up by bringing our own. In front of the stage is the dance floor, surrounded by wooden tables with barstools tucked underneath them. At this time of the night, only a handful of regulars mingle around, but within the hour, a younger, more energetic crowd will pack the space.

  When I spot Maggie at the end of the bar, I guide Emily toward her. Maggie is the mother hen of the group. She’s been working at Mavs for as long as I can remember. She even worked here when my brother Chris and I dragged our dad out of here after he had too many beers.

  Maggie’s gaze lifts to mine when we stop in front of her. The motherly twinkle in her eyes brightens the longer her eyes bounce between Emily and me.

  They blaze when I say, “Maggie, I’d like to introduce you to my girlfriend, Emily.”

  Chapter 15

  Emily

  Hearing Noah call me his girlfriend makes me giddy. You know the feeling you get Christmas morning? Or after a heart-stopping kiss? That's how I feel when he references me as his girlfriend. Although we’ve been on a number of dates the past month, he never officially asked me out, so I was unsure what our relationship status was, but now I know, and I’m incredibly thrilled to accept the title of his girlfriend.

  “Emily, this is a dear friend of mine, Maggie.”

  Noah waves his hand to a lady standing behind the wooden bar. I’m not overly good at guessing ages, but she appears to be in her mid-fifties. Her wavy gray hair has a few strands of blonde through it, and although a smattering of crow’s feet dusts the corners of her stark blue eyes, they still have a youthful sparkle to them. Her Mavericks uniform is the same as Lola’s, but she has more material in her red t-shirt and full-length white jeans.

  “Girlfriend?” Maggie arches her brow into her hair. “That’s a first.” She smiles, seemingly pleased for Noah. “Welcome to Mavs, baby girl.”

  “Thank you.” I gently shake the hand she’s holding out, afraid I might break it if I grab it too hard.

  I have no cause for concern. Maggie’s grip is enough for my hand to throb. “How come I feel like I’ve already met you?”

  Hearing the same whip of edginess in her voice, Noah curls his arm around my shoulders. “Emily is Lola’s little sister.”

  Remaining quiet, Maggie drinks in the similarities between Lola and me. The caramel highlights I added to my shorter locks have me at a disadvantage. A few months ago, I would have said our turned-up noses were our only similarities, but now we look more alike than ever.

  Once Maggie finishes her avid perusal, she sets back to cleaning the spotless counter she was in the process of wiping before we interrupted her. If her snarled lip is anything to go by, I’m confident she isn’t a fan of Lola. For reasons I’ll never be able to explain, this makes me like her a little more than I did when I noticed the nurturing glint in her eyes toward Noah.

  Noah’s body heats my side before his breaths fan my temple. “I’ve got to prep for the show; will you be okay sitting here with Maggie?”

  When I nod, he shifts his focus to Maggie. “Be nice.” A ghost of a smile touches his lips, weakening my panic. He’s more playful than worried.

  Over the next several minutes, Noah and his band complete what I assume is a soundcheck. They fiddle with equipment while Noah occasionally says, “Check one, two, three” into the microphone.

  Around five minutes later, a well-built man with long blond dreadlocks enters the main doors. He’s wearing sunglasses, a long-sleeve Harley Davidson shirt, black jeans, and motorcycle boots. Pair those traits with the helmet lodged under his arm, and I’m quick to assume he’s a biker.

  Glancing over at the bar, he dips his chin in greeting to Maggie before stomping to the stage. I swivel my chair in the direction he just gawked. “Who’s that?”

  Maggie stops wiping the bar to peer up at me. “That’s Slater, drummer for Rise Up.” She stacks polished glasses under the bar, her smile picking up. “He’s a good boy, that one. As are all those young men. Even Nick, who can be a rascal at times, but they all have good hearts.”

  The pride in her voice makes my chest bloom with warmth. She talks about the boys like a proud mother would.

  My happiness cools a little when she locks her anxious eyes with mine. “Be extra cautious with Noah’s heart, Emily. That boy has been through enough; he doesn’t need more heartache.”

  Pretending my heart isn’t racing a million miles an hour, I nod before slinging my gaze back to the stage. Upon feeling my inquisitive stare, Noah’s head lifts from a speaker he's tampering with. He gives me a look that questions, are you okay? When I dip my chin, the concern in his dark gaze fades. He takes a few seconds to deliberate before he returns to setting up his equipment.

  I watch him in silence, pondering if the heartache Maggie mentioned involves the names tattooed on his chest. Noah explained they were in memory of his brothers, but that’s as far as our conversation went. Not everyone is as open and honest as me, so I steered our discussion toward a new subject, hopeful that when he was ready, he’d tell me without me bending his arm.

  Doesn’t weaken my curiosity though. Not in the slightest.

  Over the next hour, the bar goes from a laidback atmosphere to a space thrumming with energy. Excluding one table dead center of the stage, the ones lining the dance floor are full of noisy patrons. Rise Up may not be known nationwide, but they have a massive following in their hometown. I’m impressed, which isn’t an easy feat these days. Tell me one teen who isn’t cynical?

  Mavs’ rundown appearance hides the young, energetic crowd it draws this time of night. It's so busy, the four barmaids working alongside Maggie are run off their feet. If I had any idea how to pull a beer, I’d offer to help. Alas, I don’t, so I’ll continue sitting around, being unhelpful.

  I crank my neck when a manly voice greets, “Hey, Em.”

  After clearing an expansive chest, my eyes land on the smiling face of Jacob. "Hey, Jake.” The chirpiness in my voice softens when I notice he has a fading black eye and a scarred lip. “What happened to your face?”

  I’ve only met Jacob a handful of times, but he’s a giant teddy bear, so I’m shocked he'd participate in anything violent. Noah, on the other hand...

  My inner monologue tapers when Jacob mumbles, “I ran into a door.”

  When Maggie tsks him, Jacob’s eyes narrow. “Is Lola working tonight?”

  Maggie rolls her eyes with the attitude of a teen. “No. Thank goodness.”

  Just like Noah, Jacob finds her dislike amusing. His throaty chuckle chops up his words when he rumbles, “Be nice, or you might offend Lola’s little sister, Emily.”

  He bands his arm around my shoulders to squeeze me tight. Even with me sitting high on a barstool, I’m swallowed by him.

  He’s barely hugged me for a second when his arm is yanked away. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

  After snarling at Jacob, which increases his laughter, Noah stops to stand in front of me. “Do you want to stay here or up front at the band’s table?” He nudges his head to the empty table I mentioned earlier.

  Considering tonight is the first time I’ll hear him play, I want to be as close to the action as possible. “The band’s table.”

  I leap off my barstool, my eagerness on full display. I’m excited to see Rise Up perform, but the fact Noah will be front and center the entire time has my pussy throbbing with anticipation.

  Chapter 16

  Noah

  “Noah...” Emily turns to face me. Tears are welling in her eyes, but I’m not worried, because she also has the biggest smile stretched across her face. “I love it.” She leaps into my arms to curl her legs around my
waist. “I love you.”

  My heart strums against my ribs. Not once the past three months has she directly said she loves me. She toyed around with it, expressing it in a non-direct manner when her head gets hazy with lust, but she’s never directly said it like she did now. Although I’m ecstatic, I’m too stunned to say it back. I love her too, but for some fucked-up reason, I can’t get the words out of my mouth.

  Instead, I kiss her.

  It starts an avalanche of hands, lips, and teeth. We’ve made out like this many times the past twelve weeks, but there’s a new friskiness in the air tonight. We’re alone at the fancy hotel I saved up for so I could show Emily how real men treat a lady.

  I crave Emily like solar panels crave the sun, but no matter how intense my cravings grew as we tiptoed from a forming relationship to one with enough intensity to electrify Ravenshoe, we’ve never slid past third base. She’s constantly worried I’m rejecting her. I’m not—I never would. I just wanted our first time to be special. She lost her virginity in the back of a van with a douchebag who had no clue of her worth. I refuse to disrespect her like her scumbag ex did.

  Although it was torture stopping our make-out sessions when they stepped over the line I deemed acceptable, it was best for all involved. It supplemented the feelings we’ve developed for each other with a massive boost of respect, convincing me nothing will ever come between us.

  Renting a hotel room doesn’t sound romantic, but with Emily still living with her parents and me boarding at Jacob’s house, there isn’t any other place for us to go. Furthermore, you couldn’t see Emily’s face when I opened our hotel room door. I spent the afternoon lighting candles on every surface; her favorite flowers are on the bedside tables, and her crush, Adam Levine, is crooning in the background. I’ve got all my bases covered... and then some.