was finding excuses to touch Noah.
“Taylor took the heating pad . If you need heat just grab a water bottle, fill it with hot water and throw a dishtowel over it.”
“How very MacGyver.” I mumbled.
“Calm down with the name dropping. I forgot how hip you were to the t.v. scene these days.”
“Have you decided to stop agenting and become a stand-up comedian?” I quipped.
“Agenting, huh? Millions of dollars, a stellar education and from what you’ve mentioned an English Nazi of a foster mother, all to bring me, ‘agenting’.”
“Don’t make me go Brooklyn on your booty.”
“I cannot take you seriously when you refuse to use any curse words. Say it with me, James. ‘Ass!’”
“Eat dirt.” I narrowed my eyes at him and hauled the makeshift heating pack back upstairs.
Matt’s raucous laughter followed me all the way to my room where Noah was standing perfectly once again.
“Sorry, sug. I didn’t mean for you to go fashion me a heating pack. All better now.” He held up his hands and waved, smiling at me. Megas of watts, Batman.
“Are you sure?” I set the bottle on a small table wedged between the chairs in the corner, noticing that Luke and Diesel were gone.
“Positive.” He took the two steps to me and with his hands still in the air, smacked a kiss on my lips.
It was the most forward any man had been with me - aside from dear old dad’s “friends”. My signature icy attitude had a way of keeping men at more than an arm’s length distance.
“What was that for?” I stuttered, fingering my lips.
“For caring? For being you? Just because? Take your pick, sugar.”
I had never cared much nor participated in spending all of something on one thing – hopes, dreams, wishes, money – but, Noah made me want to put all of it on him; could he be it for me? Could he be the light at the end of my very dark tunnel? Life had never seemed so bright or sweet when he was around. Did it matter that I only knew him for about two weeks? Had it even been two weeks? Life was one big jumble for the past seven months. No matter how long I had known him, Noah was a balm that while there was no cure for my kind of ruined, he could temporarily heal me and that was priceless to me. How long was someone supposed to be acquainted before it was acceptable to say you loved them and wanted to be with them, anyway? I mean, shoot, do I love him? Ironically, one of my favorite quotes was “Only time will tell.”
I had waited this long, I could wait a while longer; if this was it, he’d still be here in four months, six months, a year, whatever. They say love never dies if it’s true.
In my life, I had to be sure. Not because of my career – other players in the game expect me to have a few divorces under my belt already. No, I needed to be certain because of my past. Other people were open books while I’m more like a post it note that reads:
“Caution – severely damaged – irreparable.”
This time, Noah placed his hands delicately on my cheeks. His long fingers splayed and the tips dipped into my hair. I sucked in a breath and my eyes drifted shut as he leaned in and laid his lips on mine. A rush of lust induced waves had me flying high at his touch. The combination of his nearness and his scent had me reeling.
I tilted my head minutely to fit better against him, my hands went to his waist. His two day old beard makings tickled my smooth face, only adding to the intense desire coursing through my veins. If this is how my space heater felt when she shot the cocaine into her veins, I would never question her again. Noah was my drug and I was hooked. If there was a cure, I didn’t want it. Our bodies were clamped together and I suddenly felt my backside bump up against the door. He had me pinned and I wasn’t fighting him.
Is this what I had been missing my whole life as a social pariah? Who gives a flying french stick; I have it now.
After what seemed like far too short a time, Noah
“Taylor took the heating pad . If you need heat just grab a water bottle, fill it with hot water and throw a dishtowel over it.”
“How very MacGyver.” I mumbled.
“Calm down with the name dropping. I forgot how hip you were to the t.v. scene these days.”
“Have you decided to stop agenting and become a stand-up comedian?” I quipped.
“Agenting, huh? Millions of dollars, a stellar education and from what you’ve mentioned an English Nazi of a foster mother, all to bring me, ‘agenting’.”
“Don’t make me go Brooklyn on your booty.”
“I cannot take you seriously when you refuse to use any curse words. Say it with me, James. ‘Ass!’”
“Eat dirt.” I narrowed my eyes at him and hauled the makeshift heating pack back upstairs.
Matt’s raucous laughter followed me all the way to my room where Noah was standing perfectly once again.
“Sorry, sug. I didn’t mean for you to go fashion me a heating pack. All better now.” He held up his hands and waved, smiling at me. Megas of watts, Batman.
“Are you sure?” I set the bottle on a small table wedged between the chairs in the corner, noticing that Luke and Diesel were gone.
“Positive.” He took the two steps to me and with his hands still in the air, smacked a kiss on my lips.
It was the most forward any man had been with me - aside from dear old dad’s “friends”. My signature icy attitude had a way of keeping men at more than an arm’s length distance.
“What was that for?” I stuttered, fingering my lips.
“For caring? For being you? Just because? Take your pick, sugar.”
I had never cared much nor participated in spending all of something on one thing – hopes, dreams, wishes, money – but, Noah made me want to put all of it on him; could he be it for me? Could he be the light at the end of my very dark tunnel? Life had never seemed so bright or sweet when he was around. Did it matter that I only knew him for about two weeks? Had it even been two weeks? Life was one big jumble for the past seven months. No matter how long I had known him, Noah was a balm that while there was no cure for my kind of ruined, he could temporarily heal me and that was priceless to me. How long was someone supposed to be acquainted before it was acceptable to say you loved them and wanted to be with them, anyway? I mean, shoot, do I love him? Ironically, one of my favorite quotes was “Only time will tell.”
I had waited this long, I could wait a while longer; if this was it, he’d still be here in four months, six months, a year, whatever. They say love never dies if it’s true.
In my life, I had to be sure. Not because of my career – other players in the game expect me to have a few divorces under my belt already. No, I needed to be certain because of my past. Other people were open books while I’m more like a post it note that reads:
“Caution – severely damaged – irreparable.”
This time, Noah placed his hands delicately on my cheeks. His long fingers splayed and the tips dipped into my hair. I sucked in a breath and my eyes drifted shut as he leaned in and laid his lips on mine. A rush of lust induced waves had me flying high at his touch. The combination of his nearness and his scent had me reeling.
I tilted my head minutely to fit better against him, my hands went to his waist. His two day old beard makings tickled my smooth face, only adding to the intense desire coursing through my veins. If this is how my space heater felt when she shot the cocaine into her veins, I would never question her again. Noah was my drug and I was hooked. If there was a cure, I didn’t want it. Our bodies were clamped together and I suddenly felt my backside bump up against the door. He had me pinned and I wasn’t fighting him.
Is this what I had been missing my whole life as a social pariah? Who gives a flying french stick; I have it now.
After what seemed like far too short a time, Noah
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