I’m not letting that go. I can’t.I won’t.
This might be the end of the weekend, but it’s not the end of us. Not even close.
This is just our beginning.
15
Brad
“You can’t be serious,” Noah laughs, a bright smile beaming on his face.
“I am so serious. In front of the whole school and everything.” I shake my head. I don’t even know why I’m telling him this, but the way he laughs at my story about falling off the stage in twelfth grade, how happy it makes him, makes me want to keep talking.
“That’s insane. It’s pretty cool that you played guitar in a band though. Why didn’t you tell me?” He shakes his head, looking out the window.
I shrug. “Stopped a long time ago. I didn’t want you to expect me to play anything for you.”
“You really fucked up in telling me then. You’re definitely playing something for me.” He bites his bottom lip.
“No way. Why don’t you play something for me?” I laugh.
“I don’t know how or else I would. Looks like you’re going to have to teach me something else.” Noah tugs at my arm.
I place my hand in his lap, where it’s been for most of this drive. He interlocks my fingers with his and brings the back of my hand to his mouth.
“Oh yeah? What was the first thing?” I smirk.
“Eating ass.”
Myjaw drops. “Noah,”
“Brad,” he mocks, looking out at the trees. “I’m expecting you to teach me everything you know.”
Shaking my head, I look back at the road, as I try to stifle my laugh. “Well, I’m still a beginner, so we can learn together.”
Noah gives a slight laugh. “Sounds good,” he mutters lightly.
My brows furrow as I take in his sudden shift. Glancing over at him, I notice that he’s zoned out, watching the trees along the curvy roads pass by. He’s been doing that more often since we entered town. We still have about thirty minutes left to our drive, but I can tell he’s getting antsy the closer we get.
“You okay?” I ask, squeezing his thigh.
“Hmm?” He looks back to me, biting his lip ring. The little time we’ve spent together, I feel so close to him that I can read him easily.
“You’re nervous about going home,” I mutter. “You have all the right to be. Hell, I am too.” I grip the steering wheel, wishing time would slow down.
“It’s not my home,” he says softly, looking down at our hands. I feel him squeeze me tightly, taking in a big, slow breath. “I think I just need a smoke,” he says, leaning his head back on the headrest. He hasn’t touched his smokes since the first night we got to the campsite.
I like to think it’s because he felt so calm with me. I’m itching to get him back to that level of relaxation again.
It’s already dark outside, the streets are quiet, and it feels like it’s just him and I out here.
I think quickly, and at the next light headed home, I take a left instead of going straight.
Noah doesn’t think anything of it until we’re heading down a dirt road, on the outskirts of town.
Hepicks his head up. “Wait. Where are we going?” No concern in his voice.
“We’re already late. What’s a few more minutes?” I smile, looking over at him. “Or an extra half hour?”
