The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer (Mara Dyer #1)

“Soho,” Noah replied. “Have you been there?”


My mother nodded, as Joseph wandered into the living room in his pajamas. “My mother lived in London before she moved to the U.S.,” she said. “We used to go every year when I was little.” She pulled Joseph onto the sofa next to her. “This is my baby, by the way,” she said, grinning.

Noah smiled at my younger brother. “Noah,” he said, introducing himself.

“Joseph,” my brother replied, and held out his hand.

My mother and Noah proceeded to chat like old mates about Mother England while I shifted from foot to foot, waiting for them to wrap it up.

My mother stood first. “It was so nice to meet you, Noah. Really. You’ll have to come over for dinner sometime,” she said, before I could stop her.

“I’d love to, if Mara will have me.”

Four pairs of eyebrows arched in expectation, waiting for my answer.

“Sure. Sometime,” I said, and pushed open the door.

Noah grinned unevenly. “Can’t wait,” he said. “It was an absolute pleasure, Indi. Daniel, we must talk. And Joseph, it was wonderful to meet you.”

“Wait!” My little brother shot up from the coach and ran to his room. He returned with his cell phone. “What’s your number?” he asked Noah.

Noah looked surprised, but he gave it to him anyway.

“What are you doing, Joseph?” I asked.

“Networking,” my brother said, still concentrating on his phone. Then he looked up, and a smile brightened his face. “Okay, got it.”

My mother smiled at Noah as he followed me out of the house. “Have a good time!” she called after us.

“Bye, Mom, we’ll be back … later.”

“Wait, Mara,” my mother said as she took a few steps out the door. Noah’s eyes lifted to us, but when my mother pulled me aside, he kept walking to his car, leaving us alone.

Mom held out her hand. A little round white pill was inside it.

“Mom,” I whispered through gritted teeth.

“I’d feel better if you took it.”

“Dr. Maillard said I didn’t have to,” I said, glancing over at Noah. He stood next to his car and looked away.

“I know honey, but—”

“Fine, fine,” I whispered, and took it from her. Noah was waiting, and I did not want him to see. This was blackmail of the worst kind.

“Take it now, please?”

I tossed the pill in my mouth and held it under my tongue as I pretended to swallow. I opened my mouth.

“Thank you,” she said, a sad smile on her face. I didn’t respond, and walked away. When I heard the front door close, I extracted the pill from my mouth and threw it on the ground. I hadn’t decided not to take the drugs, but I didn’t want to be forced.

“Pre-date pep talk?” Noah asked as he sauntered over to open the passenger door for me. I wondered if he’d seen the pill exchange. If he did, he didn’t act like it.

“This isn’t a date,” I said. “But that was quite a performance in there. She didn’t even ask what time I’d be coming home.”

Noah grinned. “Glad you enjoyed it.” He glanced down at my clothes and nodded once. “You’ll do.”

“You’re so fucking patronizing.”

“You have such a filthy mouth.”

“Does it bother you?” I smiled, pleased by the thought.

Noah grinned and shut the door behind me. “Not in the least.”





26


I WAITED FOR NOAH TO LIGHT A CIGARETTE ONCE he started to drive. Instead, he handed me a plastic cup filled with iced coffee.

“Thanks,” I said a little surprised. It looked like it had just the right amount of milk. I took a sip. And sugar. “So how long of a drive is it? To get wherever?”

Noah lifted his own cup and extracted the straw from it with his mouth. The muscles in his jaw worked as he chewed. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. “We’re stopping to see a friend, first,” he said.

A friend. It didn’t sound ominous, and truly, I tried not to be paranoid. But a part of me wondered if I was being set up for something. Something bigger than what Anna had planned. I swallowed hard.

Noah clicked on his iPod with one hand while he kept the other on the wheel.

“Hallelujah,” I said, smiling.

“What?”

“The song. I love this cover.”

“Really?” Noah looked obnoxiously surprised. “Doesn’t seem like your thing.”

“Oh? What’s my thing?”

“I had you pegged for a closeted pop fan.”

“Bite me.”

“If I must.”

The song ended and something classical came on. I reached for the iPod. “May I?” Noah shook his head in exaggerated disappointment, but waved me on anyway. “Calm yourself. I wasn’t going to change it, I just wanted to see.” I scrolled through his music; Noah had excellent but consistent taste. I was much more diverse. I smiled with satisfaction.

Noah arched an eyebrow. “What are you smirking about, over there?”

“I’m more well-rounded than you.”

“Not possible. You’re American,” he said. “And if it is true, it’s only because you like crap.”