Noah skimmed his fingers down the line of my arm and lifted my hand to his mouth. His lips brushed over my knuckles, impossibly soft. He looked into my eyes and killed me.
“Then don’t act. See you at eight.” He let go of my hand and walked back to his car.
I stood on the doorstep, breathless as Noah drove away. I turned his words over in my mind. Let me try. I want them to think that. Don’t act.
Something was starting between us. But it would finish me if it ended. When it ended, which would be soon, if Jamie was to be believed. Dazed, I went into the house, leaned against the back of the door, and closed my eyes.
“Welcome back.” I heard the smile in Daniel’s voice, even though I couldn’t see it.
I tried to regain my equilibrium because my brother was in it deep, and I was not about to let it go just because my insides were mid-quiver. “You have some ‘splainin’ to do,” was all I managed to say.
“Guilty,” Daniel said, but he didn’t look it. “Did you have fun?”
I shook my head. “I can’t believe you did that to me.”
“Did. You. Have. Fun?”
“That’s. Not. The. Point,” I said back.
Daniel’s grin widened. “I like him.”
“What does that have to do with anything? How could you tell him, Daniel?
“Okay, hold on a second here. First of all, the only thing I told him was why we moved from Laurelton. There was an accident, your friends died, and we moved to start over. You don’t have the monopoly on that explanation, so relax.” I opened my mouth to protest but Daniel continued. “Second, he’s a good guy.”
I agreed with him, but didn’t want to. “Other people don’t think so,” I said instead.
“Other people are usually wrong.”
I glared at him. “Moving on. Tell me what happened. Leave nothing out.”
“After our first day of school, I went to discuss my independent music study with the teacher and Noah was there. He composes, by the way, and he’s really freaking good. Sophie told me she did a few open mic nights with him last year.”
I thought of little blond adorable Sophie, and felt a sudden urge to kick her in the shins and run away.
“Anyway, when he found out my name, he asked me about you.”
I rewound my thoughts. “But I didn’t meet him until our second day of school.”
Daniel shrugged. “He knew you somehow.”
I shook my head slowly. “Why lie, Daniel? Why pretend not to know each other this morning?”
“Because, I surmised—and correctly, I might add—that you would flip out. But really, Mara, you’re overreacting. You were barely mentioned in our conversation. We spent most of the time discussing the Kafka- Nietzsche nexus and the parodic sonnets in Don Quixote.”
“Don’t try to distract me with your smart talk. You shouldn’t have gone begging for friends for me. I’m not that pathetic.”
“That’s not what I did. But even if it was, have you exceeded your friend quota here in Miami already? Is there something I missed?”
I stiffened. “That’s a dick thing to say,” I said in a low voice.
“You’re right. It is. But you’re always insisting that everyone treat you normally, so answer the question. Have you made any other friends since we’ve been here?”
I gave him the death stare. “Yes, actually.”
“Who? I want a name.”
“Jamie Roth.”
“The Ebola kid? I heard he’s a little unstable.”
“That was one incident.”
“Not what I’ve heard.”
I clenched my teeth. “I detest you, Daniel. I really do.”
“Love you too, sister. Good night.”
I went to my room and slammed the door.
When I awoke the next morning, I felt heavy, like I’d gotten too much sleep, but my head ached as though I hadn’t. I glanced at my clock. 7:48 a.m.
I swore and stumbled out of bed, rushing to put on clothes. But when I passed my desk, I stopped. A small white pill floated on top of a napkin. I closed my eyes and inhaled. I hated the thought of taking it—hated. But the art show debacle was scary, not to mention the bathtub incident last week. And I didn’t want to freak out in front of Noah again. I just wanted to be normal for him. For my family. For everyone.
Before I overthought it, I swallowed the pill and dashed out of my room. I collided with my father as he turned the corner, and sent the accordion file he’d been carrying flying. Papers scattered everywhere.
“Whoa, where’s the fire?” he said.
“Sorry—gotta go, late for school.”
He looked confused. “Daniel’s car’s not here. I didn’t think anyone was home.”
“A friend’s taking me,” I said as I bent to pick up the papers. I shuffled them and turned them over to my father.
“Thanks, honey. How’ve you been? I never see you anymore. Stupid trial.”
I bounced a little on my feet, eager to meet Noah before he got out of his car. “When is it?”
“Opening arguments in two weeks, with one week scheduled on the docket,” he said, and kissed my forehead. “We’ll talk before I leave for base camp.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Moving to a hotel for trial prep.”
“Ah.”
“But don’t worry, we’ll talk before I leave. You go. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” I pecked him on the cheek and brushed past him into the foyer, slinging my bag over my shoulder. But when I flung open the front door, Noah was already there.
These were the things that added up to Noah that morning, from bottom to top:
Shoes: gray Chucks.
Pants: charcoal tweed.
Shirt: slim cut, untucked, thin and pinstriped dress shirt. Super skinny tie, knotted loose around his open collar, exposing the shadow of a screen-printed t-shirt beneath it.
Days unshaven: somewhere between three and five.
Half-smile: treacherous.
Eyes: blue and infinite.
Hair: a beautiful, beautiful mess.
“Morning,” he said, his voice warm and rich. God help me.
“Morning,” I managed to reply, squinting. From the sun, or from staring at him for too long. Flip a coin.
“You need sunglasses,” he said.
I rubbed my eyes. “I know.”
Suddenly, he crouched down.
“What are you—”
In my rush, I hadn’t tied my shoelaces.
Noah was now tying them for me. He looked up at me through his dark fringe of lashes and smiled.
The expression on his face melted me completely. I knew I had the goofiest grin plastered on my lips, and didn’t care.
“There,” he said as he finished tying the laces on my left shoe. “Now you won’t fall.”
Too late.
When we pulled into the school parking lot, I began to sweat despite the blast of the air conditioner. Dark clouds had filled the sky during our drive, and a few splatters of rain hit the windshield, prompting teeming multitudes of students to bolt to the front gates. I was nervous—terrified, really—to walk into school with Noah. It was so public.
“Ready?” he asked, with mock seriousness.
