over.” Noah takes a deep breath and sets
his hands on his knees. “So,” he begins. “How the
hell have you been?” I look at Noah, practically sparkling in
the fucking moonlight, and I know I can't tell him anything real, not
now, not yet. Fuck, maybe not ever. I can't tell him that I've had
sex with more men than I can count on both hands and both feet, that
my family chose a murderer over me, that the only friends I've
made in five friggin' years are Lacey Setter and Ty McCabe. Ty
McCabe. I definitely can't tell him about Ty McCabe.
“ I'm
going to school,” I say vaguely because I'm used to being vague
with people. It takes a lot for me to really open up, to give out
pieces of myself. I used to have no problem with that, especially
when Noah was on the receiving end, but now … Things are so
different. “In California.” Noah is waiting patiently,
certain that I'm getting to something more relevant, more personal.
He's too trusting. I wonder if I was ever that trusting and shiver.
Noah thinks it's from the cold and slips his arm around my waist,
just like he used to do when we were in high school. In fact, I get
hit so hard with déjà vu that I can barely breathe. I
don't resist him even though I know I should, even though I know that
I might be giving him the wrong idea.
“ Me,
too,” he says simply. “Here in town, though. I …
” Noah looks away from me and out at the lake. “I
didn't want to leave in case you came back. Somehow, someday, I knew
you would.” Noah pauses. “I guess I was right.”
I don't respond to that. There's this unspoken phrase hanging in the
air. I knew you'd come back for me. I don't correct him,
tell him that I'm actually here for myself, to put me back together
and make things right. I go for a cigarette and am not surprised to
see Noah's nose wrinkle. He never liked it when I smoked. Back then
though, I only ever smoked a couple a day. Now, now I think I'd have
to consider myself a chain smoker. I just can't stop. Every
stressful impulse I have makes me crazy. It's either smoke or fuck.
That's all there is to it. Noah watches me light up, but he doesn't
pull his arm away. He sits there and lets smoke taint his expensive
shirt, his pretty blonde hair, his angelic face.
“ I
got a dog,” he says randomly, and I smile. “An
Australian Shepherd that bites.” I laugh and have to snatch at
my cig to keep it from hitting the table. I slip it back between my
lips and talk around it, the way Ty always does.
“ What's
she look like?” I ask wishing I could get a dog. I think a dog
would be good for me. A constant companion, one who doesn't judge,
someone that loves me for me always and forever. Yeah, I think I'll
get a dog. I'll have to move out of the dorms but whatever. I kind
of hate it there anyway. I want my own bathroom. I get this strange
image of Ty and me sharing a place, maybe even having Lacey as a
roommate. There's a fireplace and a bed for two, a bed that's always
full and never empty. Always full of Ty. Ty. Ty. Ty. I shake my
head to clear it.
“ She's
mostly white with orange splotches over her eyes and gray down her
back. I think you'd like her quite a bit. She's almost as ornery as
you.” I chuckle again and don't tell Noah that I like mutts a
thousand times better than purebreds. I want a grungy, nasty alley
dog like the Tramp from that Disney movie. I want a dog that's been
behind bars with a missing leg and a grin that doesn't stop. I want
a dog whose parents were so mixed, they were like rainbows, a bit of
every color. Noah's dog, however nice, is no doubt from some,
spoiled privileged breeder who feeds her pets raw rabbit and lets
them sleep on goose down beds covered in silk. “Want to meet
her?” he asks, and I shrug noncommittally. I don't know where
this is going, so I have to keep my options open. “Maybe
tomorrow I could take you out, bring her along, and we could go for a
hike along the river, like the good ol' days?” His offer