Noah (5 page)

Sensing how uncomfortable I am
,
Noah decides to tease me a little.
“
Oh
,
come on, Skye. I haven't even told you
all the ways I make them scream in pleasure and how they come back,
begging for more. My beard has some serious advantages. The way it
teases my partners is almost like having a third hand to assist me
in making them come."

Why is he doing this to me? I really cannot think
about his beard right now.

"Fuck, Noah. You might have taken that a little too
far," Caleb calls from the couch. "Skye doesn't need to know that
shit."

"Are you afraid she'll be asking you to grow a third
hand? Because you should, man. You really fucking should."

"Caleb can't grow a beard. He has no facial hair."
Why did I say that? Why did I fucking say that?

Noah bursts out laughing from the chair and Caleb
grabs one of the throw pillows on the floor and tosses it at Noah.
"Shut the fuck up, bro."

Without saying a word I hustle out of there and to
our back bedroom before either one of them says anything to me. I
have a problem some would call diarrhea of the mouth. I don't think
before I say things. Like what I just said about Caleb not being
able to grow facial hair, that's a thought that should have stayed
in my head, but instead I opened my big mouth and blurted it to
Noah. I just have to remember not to say something like that in
front of anyone else. I don't want to embarrass Caleb.

Thank
God
,
it was only
Noah.

Our bedroom door is open and I can hear the two of
them laughing hysterically. Men can get over things so much faster
than most women can. The two of them will finish laughing and
shooting insults at each other, then team up together to kill
something on Caleb's video game system.

As predicted their laughter dies down and I can hear
their conversation perfectly. "Long night at work?"

"You have no idea, Noah. Sometimes I wish my biggest
problem was customers not paying their tab or touching one of the
dancers."

Poor Caleb. These long hours are killing him.

"You want to order a pizza or something?" Noah asks
and I can hear him moving around in the other room.

"Dude, order two. I'm starving. The only thing I've
had all evening is a strawberry and coconut smoothie from the place
around the corner from my firm."

Hmm. I guess that explains the coconut I smelled on
him earlier.

Not wanting to hear any more of their conversation, I
shut the bedroom door and crawl into bed, the metal bed frame
squeaks as I move to get comfortable. It's been a long day, and
tomorrow will be even longer because I work another shift at the
coffee house and I have to be there at five am.

Being a barista does have its perks
,
though. I know how to make hundreds of
types of coffee, so I can make them at home whenever I feel like
it, and I can drink as much free coffee as I want when I'm at
work.

When I peer over at the clock I realize I can still
get three hours of sleep before I have to wake up. It's not ideal,
but I can take a nap tomorrow afternoon after I walk Ms.
Jericho
’
s dogs. All I
have to do is close my eyes and shut down my mind.

That's all.

I can do this...

I can't do this. Every time I close my
eyes
,
my memory brings
me back to an hour ago, when I was on the couch and Noah was on top
of me. Why can't I just forget about this? It was a few seconds
that meant absolutely nothing. We were just goofing around. So what
if my nipples got hard and he got excited?

The only thing that might help me right now is eight
inches long, vibrates, and is tucked underneath the mattress. If I
give myself the release my body so desperately needs I might be
able to fall asleep, but I can't do it. Masturbating right now
would feel like cheating on Caleb because Noah is the one who got
me all hot and bothered.

This is all Noah's fault. If he hadn't interrupted my
afternoon sex session with Caleb I would feel sated right now and
Noah pressing his erection into me earlier tonight would not have
aroused me the way it did.

Now I can't stop thinking about him because the
minute I felt his erection against my inner thigh I was instantly
fourteen again, pining after the boy I'll never have.

Skye

Age 14

"Don't call me a baby. Take it back!" I shout as I
straddle his chest and pin his arms down with my knees. He has a
good fifty pounds on me, if not more, so I know I won't be able to
hold him in this position for long. Lowering my hands to his chest,
I feel around until I find his nipples under his cotton shirt. My
index fingers and thumbs pinch together on each nipple and I twist
until he shouts out in agony, and then I'm flipped over and onto my
stomach. He stands bent over me from behind and holds my arms
behind my back.

"All right, shorty. I think we should call a truce
before you get hurt."

"Never!" I shout defiantly, although it's blatantly
obvious that I won
’
t be
able to get out of the hold he has me in, and he knows
it
,
too. It's why he's
teasing me.

"If you agree to a truce I'll buy you ice cream."
It's an enticing offer.

I wait a few seconds to answer, acting as if I have
to think about his truce offering. "Will you get me three
scoops?"

"Sure, shorty, and I'll only get one scoop since I'll
be finishing your ice cream. Your eyes are always too big for your
stomach."

He's right. I'll never finish three scoops.

"Okay, truce."

Noah releases my arms and I place them on the ground
to push myself up. Standing up, I shake my arms to loosen any
cramps and pain I have from being restrained. There's a fresh grass
stain on my denim shorts and I have to pull at my French braid to
get a blade of grass out that somehow lodged its way in there.

It's late May in Michigan and the weather is finally
starting to warm up a little. Where we're from if the weather's
nice everyone is outside. This is a town where it's not abnormal to
see people in shorts and flip-flop
s
in sixty-degree weather.

I'm one of those people.

I live for summer. The warm weather heating my skin,
kayaking on the lake, camping at Twelve Beach, bonfires and s'mores
with Noah's dad telling scary ghost stories, and sleeping out in
Noah's backyard. It's the best time of the year.

We take our time walking to the ice cream shop and
then place our order. As soon as we're sitting down with our ice
cream at a white plastic table outside the shop, we people
watch.

"Mm..." I moan as I lick the first scoop of my Fat
Elvis ice cream. It's my favorite–banana ice cream with peanut
butter and chocolate chunks–
no
wonder Elvis got fat.

"That good, huh?" Noah asks as he takes a bite of his
fudge sundae.

"I forgot how great this tastes. What could be better
than peanut butter in ice cream?"

"Sex. Sex is better than all ice cream."

Rolling my eyes at him I continue licking my ice
cream cone. "I doubt it."

"When you're older, shorty. You'll see."

It's annoying when he dismisses my comments like
this. He acts as if I have no idea how good sex might be, and while
I have no experience, I am a fourteen-year-old girl with raging
hormones. That gives me a pretty good idea.

We continue to eat in silence and I watch him as he
devours his fudge sundae. Noah is nothing like the boys in my
grade. That's probably because he's three years older, but
physically he's Goliath and any boy in my grade is David.

He has strong, muscular arms from all the time he
spends lifting weights at home. Noah's never been into the typical
sports my classmates are into. He never played on the basketball
team or tried out for football. Noah is more the outdoor type.
Hiking, mountain climbing, skiing, and kayaking are how he spends
his free time. A few years ago when he turned fifteen he added
weight lifting to his regimen. He had just started going out with
Missy, a senior in high school, and had a sudden interest in
bulking up. I later found out
that
was because he planned to lose his virginity to
Missy and he wanted to make a good naked impression.

Noah succeeded in losing his virginity to Missy, and
then continued to sleep around with most of the girls at our
school. He's kind of a man whore, but I've learned to live with it
because he's my best friend. I'm not going to judge my friend. I'm
finishing my freshman year now and he's slept with most of my
friends. He'll have to watch himself though because he's almost
legal, and they aren't.

Covering his muscular physique is a green competition
t-shirt he received at last year
’
s kayaking race. He took second place and was the
youngest competing at the time. While second place was an
impressive finish, Noah was pissed off and determined to get first
the next time he races.

"So what should we do for your birthday tomorrow?"
Noah asks as he drops the spoon into his sundae bowl, finished with
his ice cream.

Groaning out in frustration I respond, "Can't we just
skip my birthday and fast forward to yours next week? I don't want
to celebrate my birthday anymore."

"What? You're turning fifteen. Your birthday is your
favorite day of the year. You're always dragging me around and
making me do whatever you want because it's your special day."

Shrugging my shoulder I hand him the rest of my ice
cream. "I just don't want to celebrate it anymore. We can celebrate
you turning eighteen and becoming an adult. God help us all."

He wastes no time diving into the rest of my Fat
Elvis as he asks between bites, "What's really going on, shorty? No
one just up and decides not to celebrate their birthday
anymore."

They do if last year their
g
randmother, the patriarch of the family,
passed away on their birthday. A week before my fourteenth birthday
I was traveling with my father and grandmother to visit my cousins
in Indiana. We were in a minor fender bender, nothing serious, but
my grandmother's seatbelt tighten
ed
on her stomach
,
causing her severe pain. We went to the emergency
room to get it checked out and everything was fine from the
accident, but she had to stay anyway to be safe. The hospital stay
made the virus she'd been fighting for weeks turn into
pneumonia.

She died from complications a week later, on my
fourteenth birthday.

My parents were devastated, as was I. She lived with
us my entire life and we were very close. I didn't want to
celebrate my birth on the anniversary of her death. More
importantly, I didn't want to watch my parents mask their pain to
celebrate something so trivial as a birthday.

"My grandmother died on my birthday last year."

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry. I completely forgot."

Biting my lower lip to hold back any kind of emotion
I reply, "It's no big deal. I just don
’
t want to celebrate my birthday at the same time
I'm remembering the saddest day of my life."

"I get it, Skye. I really do. We don't have to
celebrate your birthday. We can just spend the day together doing
normal things."

"Thanks, Noah."

The sun is setting when we leave the ice cream shop
and start our trek back home. Noah's house is right next to mine
and we've walked this path together for as long as I can remember.
When we pass Howard's Drug Store
,
Noah makes us stop and he runs inside, coming back
out with a lunch sack size
d
paper bag a minute later.

"What did you get?" I ask, reaching for the bag.

"Don't be nosey," he responds as he pulls the bag out
of reach. Dragging a hand through his stringy brown hair he asks,
"Hey, what was the name of that movie we used to watch when we were
kids?"

"You'll have to be more specific. I've watched
hundreds of movies with you over the years."

"You know, the one with the queen...and the white
rabbit...and the purple cat?"

Ah–an oldie but goodie.

"
Alice in Wonderland
." It's always been my
favorite and I've made him watch it a dozen times over the
years.

"Yeah, that's it. Remember the crazy tea party where
they sit around singing and drinking tea, celebrating
everyone's–"

“Unbirthday
,
" I interrupt, finishing his sentence. "Yeah, I
remember."

Opening the paper bag, Noah pulls out a package of
Hershey's Kisses. He rips the top open and pulls out one single
kiss, handing it to me. I love milk chocolate so I take the small
candy wrapped in silver foil, but I'm still wondering why he
suddenly brought up one of my favorite
Disney
movies and
favorite books.

"Happy Unbirthday, Skye."

I beam up at him as I open the wrapper and eat the
small piece of chocolate. "We
’
re celebrating unbirthdays now?"

"If I can
’
t celebrate your birthday, then I'm going to
celebrate every single unbirthday of yours because you deserve to
be celebrated."

That might be the sweetest, most thoughtful thing
anyone has ever said to me. Noah has a way of making me feel like
the most important person in the world. I've harbored a childhood
crush on him for as long as I can remember. It's probably because
he's a few years older than me, always teases me, and yet still
would rather spend time with me than the kids his own age. He even
puts me before the girls he's screwing around with.

But this...Noah wanting to recognize me three hundred
and sixty four days of the year, it makes me want to cry at the
beautiful gesture and I have to hold back the tears that want to
burst from my eyes. I've loved him like a part of my family for so
long, but in this moment my love surpasses anything I've ever felt
before. My heart feels like it might burst, pouring out every
feeling I have towards him. I love him. I love him more than a
friend, more than a family member, more than any other person or
thing on this planet.