This Winter

Chapter 44

Senior Year

We watch from the sidewalk as my mother's casket is lowered into the ground. Nobody seems to notice us tucked beside the building and huddled together. I like that nobody notices.

After everyone has cleared the area I decide to walk to where her grave is. Noah follows along silently and I wonder if his parents are waiting on him.

I place my hand onto the fresh dirt hesitantly. With a small whisper I tell her, "Goodbye, Mom."

A part of me wants to stay longer- stay all night. I'm exhausted though and I don't think I can bear to stay here any longer.

Noah wordlessly takes the keys from my front pocket as he gives me a small smile. He then drives me home, with quick glances towards me out of worry.

I don't really speak the rest of the day.

He spends the night too, without asking. He doesn't even go to school the next morning and I assume this was arranged with his parents. Instead he sleeps with me in my mother's bed and combs his fingers through my hair soothingly.

The only time he leaves my side is to cook dinner and then breakfast in the morning. He brings the food to the room and I barely eat.

I can tell he's worried about me. Normally if somebody was worried about me, I would at least put on a show to ease their mind. For some reason just the thought of pretending seems hard. I just can't.

"Things will get better," he promises me in the morning and presses a kiss to my temple.

I want to believe him, but I feel as if it won't. I can't see it ever getting better.

"I love you," he whispers as an attempt to make me feel better, but it doesn't help.

"I know," I whisper to him, "I'm going to take a nap."

Noah doesn't conceal his emotions well. He looks fearful and worried before I close my eyes to sleep.

Despite being eighteen, Noah's still a boy. A teenage boy who has no idea how to help me and nor should it be his job.

Present

I'm already stepping into dangerous territory with Noah when we end up at my hotel room.

He slips off his shoes and rids himself of his jacket, relaxes into my bed and flickers through channels on the television.

Something seems dangerous about having a very attractive Noah lounging on my bed, but I try to ignore my selfish desires. Today was his father's fucking funeral- I shouldn't have any thoughts like this.

Noah doesn't seem to have a single thought on the matter, so it helps me be able to focus on his emotional well-being... instead of the way his sweater is lifted and exposing skin.

I try to lay beside him as casually as I can. I can't help but jolt away every time his leg brushes against mine or his shoulder bumps into my arm. I feel like my youth- afraid of his touch because it means so much more to me.

I manage for a few hours like this. Holding my desires in and trying my best to keep my mind from wandering to the dark. Just long enough for him to finally decide he is hungry.

"Do you want to get food from across the street?" He asks with a stretch of his arms and an over exaggerated yawn.

"From the Mexican restaurant?" I ask him as he turns the television off and throws it to the foot of the bed.

He nods his head slowly at me and grabs at his stomach, "I'm starving."

***

An hour later we're sipping margaritas and laugh obnoxiously in a booth tucked in the corner of the restaurant.

Noah's telling me stories of his college days and the stupid things Stephen dragged him into. Both of us a bit tipsy as we laugh extra hard at each joke.

"You know how sometimes at football games they give money away?" He asks me while holding back a laugh.

"Yeah," I nod, feeling the corner of my lips already beginning to turn.

"Stephen signed up to try and win money during half time," he tells me in between laughs, "And he had to make a field goal, but he missed it! In front of thousands of people!"

"How bad was it?"

"It didn't even leave the ground! He flubbed it," he laughs.

"No!" I gasp and begin laughing. "Was he embarrassed?"

"A little, but I was more embarrassed than him! He was sitting beside me for the game and everyone kept making jokes!"

I laugh at his despair and take another long sip of my margarita, "Stephen sounds funny."

"He is a mess. A total mess," he tells me while shaking his head.

We continue telling more stories after that. Soon the pitcher of margarita we ordered is empty and the two of us can hardly contain our laughter. We also don't realize in our midst of laughs how closed we've begun leaning in.

My legs are pressed against his under the table and I'm leaning dangerously close across the table to him.

Part of me knows what is happening is bad.. very bad. Although, I can't seem to control myself. Every laugh that escapes his lips reels me in more.

"I think we should pay," Noah tells me while looking a little too intently into my eyes. His legs rubs against mine with intention and my mouth dries.

"Okay," I tell him, nodding eagerly.

"Okay?" He whispers back and I've become very aware to what I'm agreeing too.

"Yes," I tell him and gently take his check from his hands, sensually. "I've got you."

He doesn't object to me paying and instead falls back against the booth with a thud. His eyes stay trained on me as I give him a small smile and turn to walk to the front of the restaurant.

As I pay upfront to can still see him sitting in the booth, red cheeks and a tentative smile on his lips. He waits until I'm done paying to come join me at the front of the restaurant.

His hand laces into mine wordlessly. With a childish laugh I tug on his hand- pulling him out of the restaurant and walking towards the hotel.

I don't even spare it a second thought, something sober me will definitely be angry about tomorrow. We are crossing lines that will definitely make the next few days very complicated and messy. Although I'm too drunk to think about consequences.

Before I can blink we are both back into my hotel room and sloppily kissing and struggling to remove items of clothing. I'm giggling like a teenager when we first slept together. Despite my age and maturity, Noah has brought me back to my youth.

"It's been a while," he tells me, "Can we take it slow?"

"Yes," I tell him while kissing his back gently.

And then we definitely cross lines and I have no idea what tomorrow will bring.

Blip blop. Chip chop. My writing has become shit shat.