Before You Go

TWENTY

The weekend goes by, uneventful. I spend most of it brushing up on dance technique, reading, and hanging out with Jules. I try to help take her mind off Foster. She’s told me a little bit about their “friends with benefits” situation. And how once she stopped the benefits, Foster’s become a total manwhore. It’s not good.

During my remaining hours of the weekend, I dream about Noah. At his rate, there is absolutely no reason for a sex life. My dreams are keeping me perfectly satisfied.

Well, almost.

On Monday, I wake up feeling lighter. Free. Not happy, no, I won’t kid myself. But I would get by; maybe even become a contributing member of society.

Or maybe not.

In the commons, I see two figures in the distance and quickly feel a shot of pain right to the heart. If it didn’t hurt so bad, I would be embarrassed. I should be embarrassed. It doesn’t make any sense. Noah is talking to Jenna, his hands in his pockets as he stands close. Too close. I can’t look at her without feeling a deep rage. It isn’t rational. I’ve known plenty of girls who have it all—the looks, the life, the guy. It never bothered me before, even in my darkest days in Illinois.

The difference? I know deep down it’s Noah. I also know I’m being ridiculous. I have no claim on him—whether he told the truth about being single or not—but I want to claim him. I want to brand him with a big T.K. across his back. I want to yell, “He’s mine, back off, bitches.”

As I approach, I keep my eyes on the ground.

“Hey, Tabby,” Noah says when I walk by.

I wave and then I reach in my bag. As much as I hate to part with it, I pull his jacket out and hand it to him.

“Thanks,” he says. “See you in class.”

“I’ll be there,” I say, pretending Jenna isn’t standing next to him glaring at me. I know she’s checking me out—my pathetic clothes and ponytail—and wondering why the hell Noah is even giving me the time of day.

I wonder the same thing.

Still, I can’t stop thinking about him. I guess I’m bound to have feelings for him. He is the first person, other than family, who seems interested in me. Not because of dance. Not because of my cute girlfriends. Not because I have the right hair and the right clothes—because let’s face facts, I am far from rockin’ it these days. The way I feel about him is like that hero worship phenomena, or transference, when patients end up falling in love with their doctor or therapist. We studied it in my psych class last year. I think I’ve got it. My head says, “Perfectly natural, Tab, but definitely not real.” My heart argues, “It’s totally legit, Tabitha. For the first time, someone appreciates the real you.”

The last class of the day arrives and Professor Sands puts us to work immediately. I turn around and Noah has the same paperback on his desk that I have in my hands, except his is tattered around the edges and has a million dog-eared pages. I hold up my newer version of That Was Then, This Is Now. We laugh. Noah’s is a deep, inviting chuckle. The kind that makes you feel at home.

“Great minds, aye?” his voice thick with his Minnesota accent. “I’m so glad you’ve read this one. It might be my favorite.”

“Yeah, it’s a good one,” I say. “I think it was the title that lured me in, though.”

He bites his lower lip, and studies me.

I pick up his copy and examine the highlights and dog ears. “How old is this book?”

He closes his eyes and crinkles up his face and I want hug him and smack a huge kiss on the tip of his nose. He is adorable. I think maybe if I get close to him, some of that goodness will wear off on me.

“It’s only a year old, but I’ve put it to good use.”

“Have you finished all the chapter worksheets yet?” I ask.

“I have a few chapters left,” he says.

“Me too.”

“Do you want to finish those now and then we can start the project at my place after class?”

“Okay,” I say without thinking it through. Alone with Noah, I don’t stand a chance. I am weak and lonely. It’s a dangerous combination.

“Great.” He seems excited. Almost as much as I am.

I sit sideways in my seat, not willing to turn around, and read. Or, pretend to read, but all I can think about is spending the afternoon with Noah.

When class lets out, I choose to let myself have this day. No guilt. No past. No psycho behavior. For the next two hours, I’d just let myself be with this guy. This perfect, sweet, and ridiculously sexy guy.

We walk down Noah’s street. He keeps step with me and stays close.

“That’s it,” he says and laces his hand in mine, ushering me inside. My breath catches when I feel our skin touch. His hands are big and a little rough, but warm and strong. It feels so good; I don’t think anything has ever felt better. I curl my fingers and tighten my grip, not wanting to ever let go.

Inside, Noah takes my backpack and sets it next to his on a bench. His place is so him: warm, cozy, and interesting.

We have the place to ourselves.

“Don’t you have roommates?”

Noah shakes his head. “I did, but he moved out. Come on,” he says pulling me into his room. “It’s more comfortable here.”

His room is nothing like I pictured in my little imaginative scenario with Noah and Jenna. The walls are pale blue and covered in paintings and framed tapestries and strange paper scrolls. There are religious artifacts everywhere: a golden Buddha, miles of prayer beads, the Star of David, a frame with words to the Serenity Prayer, even a crucifix. The room has a soothing feel to it, but it’s weird.

There’s no futon as I imagined, just a nice big comfy bed with loads of pillows and a navy comforter. There’s a desk in one corner, piled with books, papers, and no Jenna photos as far as I can see. And, surprise, surprise, in the other corner sits a keyboard and two guitars. I knew I picked up the musician vibe.

Noah messes around with his iPod before placing it in a docking station. He kicks back on the bed and pats the edge for me to join him. “What do you think?” he says.

“I had you for the music for sure, but I’m not sure what to make of the whole rabbi-Dalai Lama-priest-monk thing you have going on here.”

“Does it creep you out?” His eyes search mine.

“No, why? Should it?”

“No. God, I hope not.”

“So what gives? Where did you get all this stuff?”

“Here and there,” he says. “There’s a Tibetan shop in Linden Hills and a bunch of random stores in Uptown. Plus, my parents travel for work. They brought me back a few things from China and India.”

“Why the interest in global religions?

“You know how we talked about going through rough times?”

I nod.

“Learning about different religions and getting into some of this stuff helped pull me out of mine. Now I find it more fascinating than anything else.”

“Very productive. You know, a lot of people take a different route when they hit a rough patch. Drugs, sex, isolation. I’m impressed you went the other way.”

“Don’t be. I’m not saying I didn’t go through some of that stuff first.” He winks.

I want to ask him what happened. I want to know if his rough spot was as bad as mine, but I know we’re not ready to go there. I know I’m not. “You’re an interesting guy, Noah Adler,” I say. “I’ll give you that.”

I accept his invitation and move to sit on the edge of his bed.

“You’re interesting too, Tabitha Kelly.”

He catches my arms that currently hold my body on his bed and lets them, and me, drop onto his pillows.

“Take a load off.” He laughs and drops a pillow on my head. “Let’s relax a little before we get to work. I want to know more about you.”

I look into his green eyes and take a breath, then I tell him about me…just a little.

###

As the weeks pass, I spend a lot of “study time” at Noah’s and he does get to know more about me. More than I would like.

Today he is relentless.

“What more could you possible want to know?” I ask.

“I haven’t even got to all the basics yet,” he says before firing off a million questions. “What do you want to be when you grow up? How many kids do you want to have?”

I roll my eyes.

“Okay, then, something less personal,” he says. “What’s your favorite movie?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why?”

“Because it might change your opinion of me.”

“Come on,” he says, pinning me down. “Tenacious reporter, remember? I won’t give up until I have my answer.”

“Stop,” I tell him, his breath on my neck driving me crazy. “Okay,” I say between giggles. “Okay. It’s Dirty Dancing.”

“What?” Noah asks, sitting up now and looking at me like I’m his most fascinating interview.

“You heard me.”





“Nobody puts baby in the corner? Really, Tab. Isn’t that movie like fifty years old?”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I can’t help it. I love the dancing.”

“But it’s dirty dancing. I’d think you’d be more into Black Swan or something.”

“Mmmhmm.” I slap his chest. “The only reason you know about that movie is because of the girl-on-girl action.”

“I cannot confirm or deny.” He wraps his arms around me. “But really. Dirty Dancing?”

“Have you even watched it?”

“I can’t say I have.”

“No judgment then. It’s so good, and the dance scenes are amazing—it’s not even acting. You can tell they’re all really feeling it. I just love that. And the music.” I sigh. “And Patrick Swayze.”

“I knew it; always about the men with you chicks,” Noah says, his hand resting on the small of my back. A layer of cotton is between us, but his touch is still electric. He leans in and brushes his lips against my neck.

And I want more.

Even though it scares the hell out of me.

A moan slips from my throat at his touch. I’ve had to keep myself so controlled around Noah for the past few weeks—not an easy feat when I know how good he is with his hands, and his mouth, and…ugh! I’m starting to unravel. I need to take control of this—whatever this is—if I want to get out of it unscathed. Maybe if I lead, if I keep it purely physical…maybe then, I can get what I want.

Noah.

But I have to be in control. I’m not ready to hand over my heart again.

Noah opens his mouth to say something, but I interrupt.

“Is it okay if we just hang out here for a while and not talk?” I ask him gently.

“Too many questions?” he asks, looking hurt.

I nod, but slip my hands under his shirt before he can be too wounded.

There. Advantage: me.

I rest my head in the crook of my arm, using the other to explore his lower back and shoulders. I slide in closer and Noah’s breath hitches.

I’m doing it.

My hand comes around his body to his chest, where I let it drift over his lean muscle. Getting a little daring, I trail my thumb over his nipple.

And that’s all it takes.

He crushes into my lips and kisses me, really kisses me, and I take the plunge, not thinking about anyone or anything other than him.

We kiss. And kiss. And kiss. Soft and slow at first. I’m lost in the feeling. In Noah. He smells like peppermint and tastes sweet; The Head and the Heart plays in the background. Everything is perfect.

The kisses become more intense and he leans into me. My body responds to his and pushes back while the music echoes in my head. I’ve never felt this before, even when things started getting heavy with Thomas it wasn’t like this. I didn’t want to crawl into his skin or tell him how special he was.

I want all of that with Noah, but I’m not sure I can. I’m not sure he’d want to continue if he knew the real me, if he knew the whole story. The guys at my old school—even the nice ones—looked at me like I was damaged goods once the word was out. I wonder if Noah would be like them.

But the more my mind drifts to the past, my body works overtime to keep me in the present. Each touch, each sensation is heightened. Then in one fluid movement, Noah has me flipped over and trapped under him. His lips continue their rough assault and his hand snakes under my shirt.

It makes me nervous; I need to take charge again.

I take his hand and pull it off my bare skin, struggling under his weight. He lifts up to relieve the pressure, and that’s when I launch myself on top of him. Straddling his hips, I use my hands to push my full body weight down on his chest.

All me.

His eyes grow wide, waiting to see what I’ll do next.

I lean back and pull my shirt over my head. Noah’s hands travel to my ribs, gripping me, before moving to my breasts. Again, I grab his hands and place them down by his sides.

I reach behind my back and unclasp my bra.

“I really wanted to do that,” Noah says, his voice strained.

With a slight adjustment of my shoulder, the bra falls off.

Noah exhales. His eyes burn my skin.

“Touch me,” I give him permission.

He obliges, watching me closely as if he now understands that I need to be in control. He leans up to touch me and taste me.

Soon I want more.

I guide his hand between my legs and know it will take nothing to make me come undone. But before he touches me, Noah stops.

He shifts our position, dropping me to his side as he takes the hand I was using to guide him and slowly moves it to my chest, holding it tight in place.

“My turn,” he says, his face determined. All playfulness gone.

His free hand finds its way back between my legs and I have to bite my lip to hold in a scream.

“Tabby,” he warns when I start to protest.

This time, without my guidance, his fingers brush over me and find the perfect spot. When they do, they press down.

I tell myself that I want to go through with it.

I want him.

Still, I want control even more.

Red lights flash behind my eyes signaling potential disaster to my brain. And that’s when my body shuts down.

“Stop,” I say, my voice hoarse. “Stop!”

Noah releases me and stills instantly. “What?” his voice is raspy too. “What’s wrong?”

I bury my head in his neck, grip his hands, and hold us still until our breathing slows. He follows my lead, but doesn’t seem mad or frustrated. I talk myself down from blinking red to a cool blue and loosen my grip on his hands. Noah swoops his arms around me, pulling my head to his chest.

“Sorry,” I tell him. “I just get a little nervous.” I wave it off but his expression tells me he’s not buying it. “It helps if I can—” I break off not quite sure how to say it.

“Be in control,” Noah finishes for me.

“Yep.” I exhale. It feels good to admit.

“Can you tell me why?”

I shake my head.

“Tabby.” Noah squeezes his protective arm around me. “You like me, right?”

I laugh. “Yes, I think we’ve established that.”

“And you want to be with me?”

“Again, have you been here for the last thirty minutes?”

Noah chuckles. “Okay. Good.” He rubs my arms. “So, if we’re going to try this, you have to trust me to be in control sometimes.”

He meets my eyes and runs the back of his hand along my cheek.

I nod.

“I mean, as hot as it is to have you go all dominatrix on my ass, you need to share that control with me. Do you think you can do that?”

My body shouts, Hell yes! My brain, not so much.

“I don’t know, Noah,” I tell him honestly. “I want to, but I don’t know if I can. This is the third time I’ve had to put the brakes on things.”

Noah sets his jaw. “We’ll figure it out, Tab.” He’s so confident it’s hard not to believe him.

My head continues to spin. “I’m tired.”

“Okay,” Noah says, worry covering his face.

“Can we just rest here awhile?” I snuggle into his pillow.

“I can’t think of anything I’d like better.” He laces his fingers in mine and pulls me close.

###

Noah is asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow. My craziness is taking its toll on him too. I listen to his breathing, trying to relax and quiet my mind. It doesn’t work and soon I’m sliding into those memories. The ones I want to forget.

I jolt up, wanting to wake Noah. I’d rather answer all of his questions than wallow in my unwelcomed thoughts. I’m so frustrated, I could scream. But I don’t. Instead my eyes well up and before I can stop it, a tear drops.

Noah’s sleepy eyes open. He studies me. His face drops with my tear. My cheek is wet and I look down to hide it.

Most guys would look away and change the subject, but not Noah. He stares at me with concern covering his face. Yes, he’s definitely one of the good guys. I give my best attempt at a giggle to blow off this uncomfortable mess. It doesn’t work. He can see right through me.

“Tabby, I’m sorry I didn’t know you were upset. I wouldn’t have slept—”

“No worries,” I cut him off.

“Well I am worried. I want you to be able to talk to me. Maybe I could help.”

“I’m sure you have better ways to spend your free time than trying to help a head case.”

“What if I told you helping you would help me?”

“I’m not sure I’d believe you.”

“Just wait, it might be you running away after you find out I’m the hot mess.”

“I don’t believe it,” I tell him. “I think you’d be better off with someone without so many issues.” I don’t want to go there, but it has to be said. “I saw you and Jenna talking again today; maybe you aren’t done with her yet. Maybe your time would be better spent with someone normal like her.”

“That ship has sailed,” he says.

Though I know it’s selfish, I’m glad he says it. It’s exactly what I want to hear.

“It’s complicated, but it’s not what you think,” he tries explaining. Again. “We are not involved that way. Really.”

Noah moves closer, and shifts me on my side so I’m looking right into his eyes. He lifts my hand and places it around his neck and strokes my arm with his fingers.

“But,” he says. “I would like to be involved with you.” He never takes his eyes off me. Those green pools only inches from mine. “I want you, Tabby,” his breath catches.

Noah leans in and gently runs his lips over mine and my body feels like it is turning inside out. “I think I can help you,” his voice, vibrating on my lips.

“How?”

“I have a plan,” he says with a gleam in his eyes. “Think you can trust me?”

“I think so,” I say, willing to try just about anything to have this with Noah. “When do we start?”