Chapter 23: The Boy I Once Hated: Chapter 22

Noah drives us slowly backwards off the driveway, and then we take off, going zero to sixty in what feels like just seconds. I scream as we accelerate and grip on to him tighter, and I can feel Noah’s body shaking in laughter at me.

The first couple of minutes, I’m still holding onto him with a death grip, my eyes squeezed close, sure that any minute now we’re going to crash.

But after a moment, the fear starts to slip away, and all that’s left is giddy exultation. There’s a freedom about being on the bike, feeling the pulse of the engine between my legs. I love how the wind whips at my hair, and the world rushes by around us, like we’re not really part of it anymore. I can understand now why Noah is so obsessed with his bike, if this is even a small part of how he feels when he’s on one. Noah takes off down the main road that goes by the coast, testing the speed limit on the straight shots of land. We ride for about thirty minutes until we pull up to a dock that I’ve never seen before.

Noah pulls into a parking stall and I hop off as soon as he gets the kickstand up, narrowly missing burning my leg on the hot engine.

Noah slides off with ease. ‘You’ll get better at it,’ he promises, and my insides jump, thinking of the promise in his words.

That there will be more days like this in my future.

He pulls my helmet off gently, and I swear sparks emanate from wherever he touches me. He pulls off his own then, his hair all over the place. It’s grown since the last time I cut it. It’s still not shoulder length as it once was, but it’s not a crew cut either. It’s just long enough that it beckons for fingers to run through its locks, and pull. My insides flip as I stare at this beautiful, golden boy, the sunshine making his hair even blonder than usual. He flashes me a white toothed smile, and I wonder how there could be so much beauty in the world.

For a second, dark thoughts of just how much we don’t go together flicker through my head, but I push them away.

At least for today.

For this moment.

He’s mine.

I’m sure those dark thoughts will be waiting for me as soon as we’re done here.

This time, Noah does take my hand, and I find myself looking around again for someone that we know.

But the dock is deserted. There are ten boats around the dock, but no one is actually around.

Noah leads me to the very end. And my insides tighten with anxiety as I stare at the gentle waves in the water.

There’s one boat tied at the very end. You can tell that it’s old, but whoever owns it has taken painstakingly good care of it. There’s a fresh coat of paint on it and every surface gleams. We come to a stop in front of it, and for the first time this morning, Noah seems…nervous.

‘This was my mom’s. Well, I guess the dinghy was actually my grandfather’s, but he gave it to her as a wedding present, and she always told me growing up it would end up being mine. After she died…it was.’

There’s a tic in his cheek and he’s biting his bottom lip as he does when he’s trying to hold in his emotions. It’s like watching a storm cloud pass over the sun as despair clouds his features, but he pushes those feelings away a second later.

‘She’s beautiful,’ I tell him earnestly, making his face brighten, almost like he’d been expecting a different reaction from me. He holds out his hand and I realize then, belatedly, that he wants to take me out on it.

I glance at the waves licking against the sides of the dinghy and then back at Noah.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

I give him a feeble smile and take his hand, allowing him to help me onto the boat. Then he gets to work on the ropes tying it to the dock, expertly unraveling them and tossing them aside. I’m doing my best to hold my panic attack at bay when he jumps into the dinghy and takes a key out of his pocket. A moment later, the engine rumbles around us.

‘Are you sure you have time for this today?’ I call out, barely able to be heard with how loud the boat is. It’s obvious that the engine hasn’t been updated; it’s much louder than newer boat engines are.

‘Today, I’ve got all the time in the world.’ Noah grins, coaxing my insides to be at war with each other.

Under no circumstances do I want to go out on this little boat into the ocean, but I also really want to spend time with Noah.

You just need to suck it up, I tell myself. Maybe today is the day I conquer my fears.

But as we head out, and the dinghy falls and rises as it meets the waves, I’m quite sure that today is in fact not the day I conquer my fears.

On these small boats, it feels like we could flip over at any point.

I grip the seat, my knuckles turning white with how hard I’m holding on. Nausea is building inside of me and I’m starting to hyperventilate. Noah’s concentrating on driving the boat, so he doesn’t see me falling apart.

I’m in the icy water. Darkness surrounds me everywhere. Every time I hit the surface, I’m dragged back under as if the ocean is desperate to keep me in its grip.

‘Skylar!’ Noah’s voice cuts through the nightmarish memory.

That’s when I realize the boat has stopped and we’re right by a sandbar.

‘Are you okay?’ he asks, concerned.

I nod, trying to suck in a deep breath so I don’t faint.

‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ he asks gently, squatting next to me and rubbing my skin softly.

‘I hate the ocean,’ I finally spit out.

His eyes widen, almost comically, if I was capable of seeing humor at the moment.

‘You hate the ocean?’

‘I’m terrified of it.’

‘But haven’t you lived by the water your entire life,’ Noah asks softly, trying to make sense of what I’ve said. ‘You’ve been on boats before?’

I rub my clammy hands on my knees, trying to get my heart rate under control.

“When I was little, I was out with my dad on his old fishing boat. There was a storm coming, so the waves were extremely rough. I knew, even at that age, it wasn’t a good day to go out. But he’d insisted, and I didn’t want to let him down. While we were out, a particularly large wave hit us, and I fell overboard… And he took off, not even noticing that I’d fallen out of it.’

Noah’s face is scrunched in fury when I finish.

‘Who saved you?’ he murmurs, a tightness in his voice that wasn’t there before.

‘There was another boat that happened to pass by and saw me fall off, and they came over and saved me just in time.’ I shiver, lost in that moment again, of the inky blackness threatening to overtake me, and how cold and alone I felt in that moment. I didn’t think there was any other place where you could feel as lonely as in the ocean’s depths.

‘And you’ve been terrified ever since?’

I nod, wiping away some cold sweat from my upper lip that I’m sure is oh so attractive.

‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ he growls. ‘Why don’t you ever say anything?’

I don’t really have an answer, or at least not a good one. I’m so scared of bringing attention to myself, or letting someone down. It’s like my cells are ingrained with the need to please rather than to make myself happy. It’s a curse I’ve always had. It’s why I’m so angry all the time. Not at the world, but at myself. I let myself down.

I don’t even realize that I’m crying until I feel his thumb on my face, slowly brushing my tears away.

‘Hey now,’ he says softly. ‘None of that.’ I bite down on my lip and stare down at my hands.

‘Sky, you never have to hide from me. Tell me what you love, tell me what you hate, just tell me. I want to know all of it.’

I glance up at him, feeling like he actually means every word. The problem is, I’m sure that most people mean things and have good intentions when they say things like this, but it never actually works out the way it should. People break their good intentions all the time.

Or at least, in my experience, they do.

Noah stands up and walks over and starts the boat again.

‘No,’ I squeak out, not ready for another hour or so on the waves. At least right here, by the sandbar, the water is exceptionally calm.

Noah immediately turns off the boat.

“I just need a couple of minutes,’ I whisper, hating how weak I feel in this moment.

‘Want to step onto the land for a minute?’ he asks.

I nod eagerly, realizing that the sandbar is in fact big enough for us to go on there. Noah grabs my hand and one of the saddlebags that was attached to his bike, and he helps me onto the cool sand. He motions for me to sit down and then pulls the boat further onto the land so that it won’t float away.

‘Go ahead, take off your shoes, get comfortable. The tide won’t rise enough to cover this place, at least not this time of year.”

To my surprise, he pulls out a light blanket and places it on the sand and then takes out a couple of wrapped sandwiches, and a few bags of chips and some apples.

“I’m not much of a chef,’ he comments, a bit sheepishly as he unwraps one of the chicken salad sandwiches and hands it to me.

My heart is leaping in my chest, and I take a big bite out of the sandwich, moaning in exaggerated pleasure. Evidently, someone making me food is my love language because every time Noah does, I get giddy.

‘It’s delicious,’ I assure him, and I’m not lying. I recognize the croissants are from that bakery in town, the one that always make my mouth water when I pass by and I smell them. I don’t know where the chicken salad’s from, but it’s got little dried cherries in it that give me a burst of sweetness with every bite.

It’s all delicious.

Here on the sand, the ocean isn’t…so bad. Terror still licks at my insides whenever I stare at the waves too hard, but I feel more at peace than I usually do when I’m this near the water.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had to endure my fair share of beach and boat trips, but I’ve rarely felt any moments of peace during them.

I’m wondering if Noah’s got a bit of magic in him after all.

The girl stood on the edge of the cliff, staring out at the desolate ocean, wondering if he was out there staring at the land and missing her as much as she was missing him.

‘Writing anything good?’ His voice cuts through the story I’d drifted into.

I blush and grab a bottle of water, wishing I didn’t do that all the time, get lost in my head. But unlike other people, who seem to get annoyed by that particular trait, Noah seems to find it…charming almost.

‘Tell me about the story,’ he says. I roll my eyes, and bite into the sandwich.

‘No, I’m serious. Tell me what the story is about.’

‘I don’t share my stories very much,’ I say quietly.

‘Why not? I mean, I’ve heard of how much your English teacher talks about the stuff you’ve written.”

‘Writing feels…sacred to me, I guess,’ I muse. ‘I know once the words are out there, that people can say anything about them. I’ll read a book and I’ll go on Goodreads, and people will have said the most horrible things about something I thought was so great. And I guess…I’m scared of that. Because it feels like I’ll be showing a piece of my heart to people, and I’m afraid that they will hate it.’

Noah nods, like my comments actually make sense. ‘But they could also love it too.’

I nod and shrug. ‘But that’s the thing, though; negative comments are the ones I feel like I would pay the most attention to. I once read this article by this actress who’s basically universally liked. She was talking about how she would watch a ten minute fan video someone posted on TikTok of how wonderful she was, and there’d be thousands of those, and then she’d see a six second clip that was negative, and it would totally destroy her. And of course the question is, why doesn’t she just pay attention to the thousands of people that love her? But it just seems to be how it is.’

He opens his mouth and I hold up my hand. ‘Or at least how it is for normal people,’ I say, raising my eyebrows pointedly.

It’s actually one of the things that I love the most about him. He doesn’t care. It’s like you’re either born with self worth or you’re not. Other people’s opinions are like oil to him; they just roll off and he never thinks of them again. I wonder what it would be like to walk through life that self assured. Because I’m not aware of anything in Noah’s background that would have made him that way.

‘I know you have that notebook tucked up inside your shirt, Sky. Give me a chance, little stalker. Show me your heart.’

He’s joking, taking the words that I gave him and giving them back to me, but it feels heavier than that. Does he realize that I have been showing him my heart all this time? I’m wearing it on my sleeve for him right now.

I pull out the tiny notebook that I carry around with me everywhere, just in case the words strike. You never know when inspiration will hit you. Sometimes I’ll be walking down the street, and I’ll see a glance that someone gives a girl as she passes by, and all of a sudden I’ll start imagining his hidden longing, and their story that could be if only she took a second to stop and look at him. Or I’ll be in the car listening to a song, and some kind of lyric will spark an entire story. I have notebooks upon notebooks hidden in my room, filled with words that have poured out of my soul from the most tiny encounters.

I hesitate, staring at the cover, but when I look up, he looks so…invested, and I decide to read a few parts.

A lot of this book is filled with sad poems. My experience the last couple of years hasn’t lent itself to particularly happy thoughts. But I find one small paragraph that I wrote about him, and I decide to be brave, just this once, and read it to him.

‘There was a moment that night when it felt like he looked at me and he actually saw me, that the spark in his eyes was my twin flame. Sometimes at night I imagine that he walked towards me, instead of away. That he’d seen inside my soul, and instead of finding it wanting, he’d found what he’d been looking for his entire life.’

“Is that about me?’ he asks, his face looking troubled at the thought.

I shrug, ‘It’s just a little something I wrote. I didn’t mean anything by it,’ I add.

Although he may have made love to me last night, everything inside me tells me that Noah is a runner. That even if he did feel something, even if he did recognize me for what I thought I could be to him, it could never last.

He still looks uncomfortable, so I tuck my notebook away, chiding myself for reading something so personal in the first place.

‘What do you want in your life, Skylar?’ he asks softly. He’s staring at the distant horizon. ‘Do you want to go to school? Do you want to get married and have five kids…’

I snort. “I don’t think the two are mutually exclusive,’ I joke, and he tosses a pebble at me.

‘I’m trying to be serious here.’

My smile fades and I nod, feeling like I should start asking him questions, because here he is, stripping me bare.

What was I supposed to tell him here? Was I supposed to tell him that for the last couple of years, all I wanted to do was get off this island and move away? Or about my dreams to attend the best English program in the country. Do I tell him that I want to be a New York Times best-selling author, and I want people to know my name? Or do I tell him about another silly dream I had, that I wanted to have a book at the airport. I wanted to walk into one of those places that sells floss and chocolate covered almonds, and see my books tucked in the corner, well-known enough that they would belong there.

Or was I supposed to tell him that falling in love with him was making me wonder if it was even possible for me to leave after all? That none of those dreams come close to winning his heart.

‘Go to school, write I guess, if I’m lucky,’ I finally say casually.

‘And you?’

His cheek tics and I know that he’s well aware I’ve given him a simplistic answer, but thankfully, he doesn’t press me further.

‘It doesn’t really matter what I want,’ he laughs, and it comes out all wrong, bitter like spoiled coffee. ‘My future’s pretty set in stone. Following my dad’s footsteps. As soon as I’m done with school at the end of the year, I’ll be just another fisherman on his crew. I was born on this island, and I’ll die on this island.’

Set in stone.

Is anything ever that definite?

I wasn’t sure about that so I decide to press him just a little.

‘Why do you have to do that? It doesn’t sound like you want to do that. It doesn’t sound like that would be the life you envisioned for yourself.’

‘Envision?’ He chuckles disheartedly. ‘There is no vision of a different future for me. It’s what everyone in my family has done. It’s what everyone expects me to do. I’m not like you, Sky. I don’t have some crazy talent just waiting to be unleashed on the world. It’s a good steady job, and my dad is counting on me to help him. It’s all good. I’ve made my peace with it.’

Even as he says the words, it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than me, and I’m not sure he’s being very successful at it.

‘What would you like to do, if you could do anything…what would it be?’ I ask fervently, reminded about the time I snuck into his computer and saw the hidden folder with all those expensive sailboats in it.

‘I’m not even sure anymore,’ he finally says after a long pause, sounding almost…ashamed.

‘My mom was sick for so long. I poured all my focus on getting her better, and then later, spent whatever time I had watching her die. I guess I’ve just been existing since then.’ His shoulders droop. ‘I think she’d be so disappointed in me if she saw me now. I know she would be.’

I flinch at the self-hatred in his voice. Noah always comes across so confident. Yes, I’ve seen him absolutely devastated, but I’ve never seen him like this, so laden with self-hatred.

‘I think you’re wrong about that,’ I murmur to him.

‘Yeah, well, you didn’t know my mother, did you?’

I have the urge to flinch away with the way he just lashed out at me, but I know his dark thoughts are the ones that are ruling him right now. The ones provoking him to keep me at arm’s length.

‘In a way, I feel like I do know her,’ I say carefully, reaching up and brushing a piece of his golden hair from his tanned face. ‘I think you’re your mother’s son. And like her, I think that you’re the kind of person who would sacrifice your future to help and make your father happy. I think you’re fiercely loyal, and ridiculously sweet on the inside despite your gruff exterior. Just by knowing the kind of son she raised, tells me that I know your mother pretty well after all.’

He stares for the longest time dumbfounded at me.

‘The way you see me… I’m afraid one day you’ll wake up and realize you’ve got it all wrong.’

He says the words so softly they almost fade away in the wind, but nevertheless, they pierce me right in the chest. Because I know that I feel the same way. I’m afraid that this beautiful, broken god of a man will wake up one day and see me for what I am– the mousy bookworm that’s better off in the shadows rather than the main stage.

‘Not a chance,’ I whisper, and he leans his forehead against mine, brushing a few soft, slow kisses across my lips. I want to ask him what this is, make him reassure me that he feels what I’m feeling, but I don’t.

I just let the moment sit. I let the day pass by, beautiful and tragic at the same time.

Because the best day of your life always has to end.

And I think this one might be mine.

School feels even stranger than usual with this secret hanging over me. Now when I walk down the hall and see Noah staring at me, it feels laden with so much more than it did before. And when I see one of the girls who is obsessed with him brushing against his arm, I want to run over and shake her, scream to the whole school that he’s mine.

But of course I can’t do that.

Because if the school couldn’t handle one kiss, how would they handle a whole weekend of fucks?

The day passes like that. Looks with hidden meanings and having to watch the school worship him while I have to worship from afar. When another girl comes up to him though, pressing her breasts against his chest to get his attention, something snaps inside of me.

Kyle’s just behind me, sending me his usual longing looks ever since I told him we could never be anything but friends. I know it’s wrong, but I say hello for the first time since that talk. Kyle immediately lights up, and takes a few steps towards me.

‘How you been, Sky?’ he asks, trying to go for casual with his one hand tucked in his pocket and his other one gripping the edge of his letterman’s jacket.

‘Good,’ I tell him, surprised when I realize that for the first time in a long time, I actually mean that.

I open my mouth to ask him how he’s been, when all of a sudden my arm’s grabbed in a tight grip.

‘Sorry Kyle, I need a few words with Skylar,’ Noah says through gritted teeth.

A flicker of anger crosses Kyle’s face and his jaw tics, but he shakes his head and walks off without another word, well-versed that he is never going to win against Noah.

Noah practically drags me down the hall, garnering a few looks as he does. The bell rings, but he makes no move to let me go to class. When the halls have emptied, he pushes me into the women’s bathroom, and clicks the lock.

‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ he growls.

My eyes widen. ‘What are you talking about?’

He gestures out to the hallway. ‘With Kyle, what the fuck were you doing?’

‘I was just saying hello. He’s my friend,’ I snap defensively, an edge of guilt creeping up my spine because I know that I’d been trying to get a rise from Noah after watching girls paw at him. There’s a wild flare in Noah’s blue eyes, like I haven’t seen before.

He glares at me. ‘Do you want him?’

‘What? No, of course not!’

‘So then you were just trying to make me jealous!’

“I —’ I’m about to give excuses, but then I just get mad. ‘What the fuck were you doing letting those girls rub all over you anyway?!’ I snap.

A smug look crosses his face. ‘So you were jealous.’

I roll my eyes. ‘And you aren’t?’

Anger laces his features, and he’s biting his bottom lip again. He’s so much bigger than I am, looming over me. He’s wild and worked up in the moment, and there’s a strange rush in my veins watching him like this. I didn’t realize that it would feel like this, to have Noah Fontaine’s attention like this…is intoxicating.

‘I don’t want you talking to him again, and I don’t want you seeing him.’

I realize then my panties are damp and I’m…desperate for him.

I feel edgy, a strange energy running through me that I don’t know what to do with…until I suddenly get an idea. Or should I say…a craving.

‘I don’t want him, Noah,’ I murmur, taking a step forward until it’s me that’s pressing my breasts against his chest. ‘The only person I’m thinking about, the only person I want…is you.’

I brush my lips across his, but he doesn’t kiss me back, prefering to just stare at me. I can tell that he wants me; he’s rock hard against me… But this feels like a test. A challenge. One I intend to win. I trace my tongue against his lips, and grind against his hard ridge through our layers of clothing. Feeling brave for some reason, I slowly start to lower myself to the ground, dragging my fingertips down his chest as I do until I get to his belt buckle.

Still, he makes no move.

Taking a deep breath, I keep going, tracing his belt buckle before I undo it and then unbutton his jeans, slowly unzipping them.

‘I want to make you come,’ I whisper, licking my bottom lip. ‘I want to taste you.’

To this, he finally moves, his hand grabbing the back of my hair and lacing it through his fingers.

‘Is my little stalker as dirty as she sounds right now?’ he rasps, his blue eyes hooded.

I gaze at his enormous cock, wondering, not for the first time, how it actually managed to fit in me. I lick at the tip and he groans, his grip in my hair tightening until it’s just at the point of pain.

‘How bad do you want me?’

‘More than anything,’ I half sob, and he brushes the tip of his cock with his finger and then rubs the pre-cum on my lips. I trace my tongue along them, trying to capture every drop. His eyes are lazy and hot.

‘Are you going to let me fuck that perfect mouth?’ he asks. And I nod, reaching out and taking his dick like the offering it is. I squeeze it gently, watching as the broad tip leaks with a drop of moisture…and I’m…starving.

I touch my tongue to his slit and take a long lick, lapping up the burst that seeps onto my tongue. I’ve never gone down on a guy before…obviously, but there’s something about this forbidden act that I love. I’ve heard girls at school talking about this being demeaning, but it’s just like Daisy has always said. In this moment…it feels like you own them.

I slide my lips over the head of his cock and begin to suck on him like he’s candy. There’s no way I can fit him all in my mouth, but I do my best.

“Fuck,” he growls as his hands tighten and loosen in my hair, like he wants to take over but he’s stopping himself.

I move up and down, sucking up his pre cum. Daisy had once told me that the key to giving a good blowjob was to be enthusiastic, and I definitely nail that condition on all cylinders.

There’s a steady stream of praise coming out of Noah’s mouth.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl. Sucking my cock so well. Feels so good, baby. Fuck. Yes. Just like that.”

He finally gives in to the urge to control my movements and he fucks my face…hard…as his fingers dig into my hair, guiding my movements. Tears are streaming down my face as I choke on his dick.

And I love it.

His breath grows ragged and his movements are uneven as he starts to come. I thirstily drink down everything he gives me, his cum still seeping out of the sides of my mouth. He guides me off his dick and I give the tip one final kiss that has him moaning.

When I glance up at him, he’s staring at me like he’s awestruck. He wipes his thumb through the extra cum on my face and slides it back in my mouth, feeding it to me. I lick it up eagerly, not even knowing who I am right now.

Noah helps me to my feet and presses his lips against mine in a hard, licking kiss. He’s not grossed out at all by the taste of his cum in my mouth, evidently.

“That was fucking amazing,” he growls.

“Yes, it was,” I respond with a grin.

He shakes his head. “You’re full of surprises, little stalker. Because I know that was your first blow job.”

I smile shyly and he continues to stare at me.

“No more Kyle,” he finally says, and I nod slowly.

“No more groupies,” I say back, and he nods too.

We slip out of the bathroom into the luckily empty hallway.

And I’ve never felt more alive.