Before I could think of a response, Dad’s harsh voice cut through the room. “Knock it off, Dustin. You’re nearly forty-five. There’s no reason to play sibling rivalry. Especially when your brother is talking about making pretty pictures and you’re aiming to be a congressman.”
“Fine.” Dustin glared at me. I knew he wasn’t used to hearing our father say anything positive about my life choices, but it surprised me to see how much the comment displeased him. “Good job, little brother. Looks like your cute hobby might make you a buck or two. Good thing, since you’ll need them.”
Chapter Ten
OUR GOOD-BYEhad been less than a week after our kiss.
The kiss.
The one that would torment me for the next twenty years, staying out of reach and gaining epic proportions. It had been the end of May and unusually warm and bright for Seattle that time of year. It’s strange the details I remembered. Summer vacation was days away. I’d never been so happy. I’d had my first kiss, school was nearly out, and Noah and I had freedom at our fingertips.
I was terrified as well. My first kiss had been with a boy. Though we went to church constantly, I only felt a little bit of religious guilt. I knew we went only out of social expectations. However, those same expectations said very clearly my first kiss wasn’t supposed to be with a boy, or any kiss thereafter. Still, the tingling sensation that coursed over my skin kept me up at night since feeling Noah’s lips on mine, his hand on the small of my back, holding me to him. When sleep did come, it brought with it sweet dreams. Sweet and sticky.
Those made me nervous too.
We saw each other many times over that week since the kiss, but both of us averted our eyes and kept our distance. Part of it felt lonely. I was used to being by Noah’s side at every free moment. It was also exciting. Those furtive glances. Heart racing. Sweat breaking out. The possibilities of our next kiss. What might come after.
I was foolish. Even for thirteen. Even if Noah had been willing to give endless kisses, they’d still been numbered. I knew his family’s plans. Same as every other four years. Yet, even though they were days away, those plans seemed impossible. No way could they happen. Not when the two of us were meant to be.
Even that thought caused guilt. A couple of our friends were already having sex. At least they claimed to be. With girls. They never spoke of love or feeling anything similar to what I felt for Noah. They talked about fucking, spoke in heated whispers when the teachers weren’t around. They weren’t thinking about such shit as love or what was meant to be.
I was.
Kissing a boy wasn’t the only thing that made me different, and I knew it.
It was Friday. I had such hopes for that weekend. Going back to Noah’s house. Making plans for the first week of summer. Maybe having him take off his shirt and touching his chest. Maybe kissing it? Did people do that?
The driver had pulled up and opened the door of the town car for me when Noah called my name. Turning, I saw him standing by the entrance of the school. I didn’t remember if I said anything to the driver or if I just rushed back to him. I didn’t need permission from staff. Plus it was Noah. And it was the first time he’d said my name since our kiss.
I ran toward him, then made myself slow down. No need to look pathetic. Noah’s dark hair was short and swooped to one side. He was so pretty. Tan. Already tall. Even as I drew up to him, I straightened my shoulders, trying to be closer to his level, cursing my pale skin.
“Noah!” I faltered momentarily, hearing the excited desperation in my voice. I tried again. “Hey. What’s up?”
I was so caught up in my own worries about my looks that I didn’t notice his expression. I did then, and my heart sank. Maybe it broke, already knowing before Noah said the words.
He looked close to tears. “Randall, I….” His chin quivered for a moment, and then he seemed to get control. “I need to tell you I’m sorry. What we did….” He glanced around, met my eyes, then gazed at our feet. “What we did was wrong. I’m sorry. I’m older and I should have protected you. Both of us. I made us sin.”
My eyes stung. I wanted to say something. Anything. Deny his words. Tell him he was wrong. No words came. Any power I might have used by speaking was focused on not letting tears fall.
Noah glanced up at me once more for the briefest second. He did have tears. “I’m sorry. I won’t cause us to sin again.”
Then he ran. His feet were moving before he fully turned around. He almost slipped. Even in that moment, I noticed how strange that was. Noah was perfect. Always smooth and controlled.
I wanted to call out. Scream for him to come back. Even cry. Anything.
I didn’t.
I watched him go, part of my brain already coming up with a plan to slowly convince him over the summer we weren’t sinning and no one would ever need to know.
Less than a week later, he and his parents stood in front of our church and received the congregation’s prayer-filled blessing for their return to Haiti. Noah knew where I was seated. I knew he did. I could feel it. He kept his gaze from ever even darting to my side of the chapel.
Then he was gone.
NEARLY EVERYdate I’d gone on—at least with a guy who knew I was a Morgan—had been to a new, fancy, trendy restaurant, then a play or opera, maybe an art museum. Each one of them an attempt to prove they were worthy of the Morgan name. Even the fucking at the end of the date had a polite attempt at class vibe.
Yeah, as gag inducing as it sounded.
It was part of the reason I’d switched to using hookup apps. Scruff didn’t show my last name and for sure wasn’t used for five-star dining.
