Every Little Secret (Second Chances #2) (13 page)

With Noah? I surrendered to him that night. I want him and me. Together. I choke back a sob as I approach the counter and order a coffee. Once I settle in my corner, I feel drained, empty. The aura of peace I usually find here is gone and questions nag at the back of my mind.

What made Noah flip out? Just like that first night on the beach when he pulled me from the ocean, then zoned out, lost in memories. It was almost like he wasn’t talking to me but a ghost from his past. I want to know. The desire to understand this boy grips me. I can’t go through classes and study all week without knowing more, without understanding the man I’m losing.

I toss my coffee in the trash barely having taken a sip and head across the campus. The sun hits the buildings and reflects off windows, giving everything a plastic look. Possibly a reflection of the fake life I created. For the first time I want something tangible, something I can hold onto that’s real instead of a mirage, instead of me walking through life barely alive, barely paying attention or taking time to smell the flowers.
 

I push open the doors to the library and practically run to the nearest computer, but it’s like everyone hit the library for last minute research. I search the entire place but the computers are taken. All students have laptops but this morning I left everything in the room. Finally a computer frees and I lunge toward it before someone else can grab it. I earn a few dirty looks but I can handle that.

 
Practically panting from the adrenaline rush, I flip from website to website typing in keywords like our high school, Noah’s name, the years he was in high school but nothing pops up. Pictures flash on the screen of Haley’s car accident. I shudder and move on.
 

Nothing.

I run my fingers through my hair and rest my head against the palms of my hands. What could’ve happened? I know a little. Noah stopped everything. He stopped playing soccer. It took years for him to start college and he still lives at home! With his parents!

Someone taps my shoulders. “Excuse me. Are you done?”

I stumble away, not even looking at the person. Shit. I’m like half an hour late for my first class. I rush across the campus and slip in the back, but I should’ve just gone to my dorm because I don’t understand anything my professors say. Their words flit in and out of my consciousness, barely making a dent at the questions flooding my brain.

By early afternoon, I’m done. Only one way to find the truth, so after my last class I find my spot, hiding in the shadows, leaning against the brick wall.
 

I wait.

A couple flops down on the stone bench under the shade of a tree. He plays with her hair, strokes her hand, and laughs. He leans over and kisses her cheek and then moves to her mouth.

I turn away, blocking out the image. I don’t want to see happy little couples flitting about campus, lost in their bubble. Minutes later, I peek but they’re still there, talking, whispering, trusting.

If only that could be Noah and me. Someday.
 

Then I see him, walking through the crowds of students. He’s slower today. His head isn’t held as high. Even with everything that happened, he takes my breath away and feelings stir in my chest. This guy is worth fighting for.

I step away from the bricks. “Noah?”

My words get lost in the carefree chatter. I step closer. “Noah?” I say louder.

He stops, his head tilted, listening. Slowly, he turns, searching the faces until he finds mine. Regret and fear flit across his face. I screwed up. Why did I think this would work? That Noah and I could work this out? I don’t deserve it. Isn’t that what my dad always told me? What am I doing here? Waiting for a glimpse of what could’ve been? Forget it. I’m an idiot.

I flip around and stumble away, the humiliation burning my face. Several steps away I feel his hand on my arm as he turns me around. We stand, face to face, inches away. His hand drops. I study him like I’ll never see him again. The faint yellowing of the bruise under his eye. His lip only slightly swollen now. The deep pools that are his eyes, hiding the depth of his past. I want to dip in and swim. Regardless of the warnings.

“Carly?”

“Yes.” I’m breathless, words escaping me.

“Are you okay? I mean after the other night?” he asks.

“I’m fine. You?” Somehow, I’m holding it together.

He nods. “Fine.”

We’re both liars, hiding behind the truth. Maybe both scared of the future.

“What happened?” I ask.

His eyes twitch and dart around as if looking for an escape. “I meant to check on you after…” He ignores my questions. “Sorry.”

“No problem. I was just fine.” Lies! Lies! I scream on the inside.
 

The silence breezes between us and I feel him withdrawing, pulling, running away from me. “What happened?” I try again. I whisper. I beg.
 

He touches my cheek, his fingers gently resting there before he pulls them away. He won’t answer the question. I respond and place my fingers on his arm where the glass cut him, and then on the bone around his eye, then I trail them down close to his lips. I can tell this is goodbye. “I’m sorry. For whatever I did. I never should’ve tried to make our friendship secret. It’s just that…I wanted, I needed a secret in my life. I didn’t want to share you with anyone. I liked you too much.”

His eyes soften and he takes my hand in his and kisses my fingertips. He sighs, a deep, shuddering breath.
 

One more time I ask. I have to. “You listened to me and helped me now let me help you. What happened?”

He steps away, and the distance between us feels like forever. I want to yank him to me and force the truth from him, force him to see that he can trust me.
 

“You don’t want to know.” His voice is hoarse, his words shaky. “I’m trouble. You shouldn’t be around me.”

Then he walks away.

“Maybe I do want to know.”

He still walks, his stride picking up speed.

“You can’t decide that for me, Noah!” I raise my voice, drawing the attention of several people, their curious stares burning into me. I drop away and whisper, “That’s my decision.”

I stand, watching, waiting, and hoping he’ll turn around. He doesn’t. I lose him in the crowd and I wait even longer for him to return. He’ll realize the big mistake he’s making, that he’s losing the best thing that ever happened to him, that I’m for him. I convince myself of that while the tears streak my face.

“We could’ve been great together,” I say long after he’s been gone.

Noah

It isn’t easy going to school the next week. To everyone else it doesn’t look any different. My relationship with Dalia had been a secret. She’d made sure to keep it that way. Sure it had been exciting and a total turn on, the feeling like we were getting away with something. Every decision I made, every secret smile, every knowing nod in the hall, and every tryst in the janitor’s closet led to this.

Me feeling like a complete asshole. Feeling guilty. Feeling rage. Humiliation. Frustration. It swarms inside me with nowhere to go.

I thought no one would know. I thought I would go back to school, my shame a silent secret. By the middle of the week I realize how wrong I am about that. Dalia’s father might not have pressed charges or brought my name into the paper, but somehow, he made sure that word spread, that everyone knew. Teachers, coaches, classmates.
 

Teachers look at me differently, with a friendly but cold smile, barely acknowledging my efforts in class. Dalia huddles with her friends, their whispers and dirty looks shoot my way. They know. It seems like everyone knows, at least the kids in my grade. Who is this girl that I fell for? Is she the same one who first brought me into the janitor’s closet?
 

Dalia can’t look at me. She avoids my eyes and me altogether. She hides in her cluster of friends, listening to their gossip but not saying a word. She plays the victim well.
 

A hot prickly feeling stays with me all day, all week. I feel shunned. People acknowledge but don’t include me. Thank God for Tate.
 

On Wednesday, I leave school for my first therapy session. Dalia’s father set the whole thing up and will know my hours and if I skip. The threat of court or blabbing it to the newspaper stays with me.
 

Outside the door, I wipe my palms against my jeans. The small ferns in the corners of the waiting room wilt, limping over. Seascapes line the walls. I guess to make people feel comfortable. It doesn’t work.

I knock.

No answer.

I knock again, harder. The echo resounding in my head, like a judge’s gavel pronouncing me guilty.

Finally, the door opens. A short bald man stands in the doorway. His mustache twitches when he smiles, welcoming me inside.

“Hello there. You must be Noah.”

“Yes, Sir.”
 

He nods. “Call me Pete. No pretenses here. I want this to be an open and rewarding experience for you.” He points to an easy chair and then sits across from me, his legs crossed, his argyle socks showing.
 

“How’s school going?” His brown eyes, which are probably usually warm and inviting, narrow in on me.
 

“Okay.”
 

His left eyebrow rises. “Any problems?”

I shrug. How do I answer a question like that?

He uncrosses his legs and leans forward. “Noah, I’m going to be blunt with you. We’re not going to get very far into this if you can’t be honest. Your parents are paying a lot of money and my reports of your attendance and cooperation are going straight to Mr. Donahue. Of course, anything you say is confidential.” He shifts in his seat and pulls out a file. “We need to get to the bottom of your rage. Figure out why you took out your pain, your issues on an innocent girl.”

My mouth drops open in shock. He just assumes I’m guilty. What? Had Mr. Donahue just told his skewed version of the story to this guy? It only takes about three seconds for me to realize that this is a punishment. Either I play along or I’ll be screwed, worse than I already am.

“So,” he clears his throat as if to announce our starting over, “why don’t we start with your relationship with Dalia.”

Something inside me shrivels up and dies.

***

I’m at The Salty Dog. I’ve been here every night. Hiding in the corner, slugging down water. Ordering a vodka so I won’t look like a loser, but not drinking it. I only allowed myself a couple drinks in the past couple years and most of those times were within the last month. Enough of that. I’ll never let a night go by again where I could be accused of losing control of my actions.

I can’t erase the memory of Carly’s face, the hurt and rejection in her eyes when I walked away from her last week. That killed me. I don’t want to tell her why I can’t be with her, why our relationship scares the shit out of me, why I can’t trust again.
 

I can’t tell her the truth, what I’d have to tell her for our relationship to go any further. That I supposedly raped a girl. What if she doesn’t believe the truth?

Someone slides onto a barstool next to me. As soon as the place gets crowded that means it’s time for me to go home and hide in my room, trying to study.

“What the hell is your problem?” the guy next to me asks.

I glance sideways at Chad. I tense, my body on the alert, ready to fight or run, but he’s relaxed, tipping back his beer for another drink. I ignore him.

“Seriously. You got the girl, so why are you treating her like shit, man?”
 

Staring at my glass, my fingers gripping it so tight it might shatter, I say, “Why don’t you leave?”
 

“I’ve been watching you all week. You slink in here and drown yourself in non-alcoholic beverages.” He laughs. “Fine. I’ll leave but I’m burning up with curiosity.”

He takes my silence as encouragement to continue. “You won the girl fair and square, so why aren’t you back at her place?” He nudges me and winks.

I shoot off my stool, slam a tip on the counter, and walk out. My hand crashes into the door to the bar and I welcome the sea breeze. I tremble and the rage wants release. All the frustration from the past week, from my life, wants a reason to beat the shit out of Chad. Maybe he’ll get the hint and leave me alone.

His footsteps grind in the sand on the sidewalk behind me. I can’t stop it. I turn around catch him in the face with my fist. “Leave me alone.”

He backs off, rubbing his jaw. “Sorry, man. But seriously? You screwed around behind my back, she dumps me and then you dump her? I don’t get it. Like I said, I’m curious.”

I take several deep breaths. “First of all, we weren’t screwing around.”

“That’s not what it looked like to me. I might’ve been drunk off my ass, but I remember some things.”
 

“We kissed, snuggled and then fell asleep.”

He laughs again, mocking in disbelief. “You snuggled? What are you? A fucking idiot?”

“No. But I could see aspects of her that obviously you never could. Sex isn’t love and I didn’t want her to think that’s why I was with her. Maybe you wouldn’t understand something like that.”

He scoffs. “Obviously not.” But then a quiet falls over him as if he’s never thought of that before.

I stare into the darkness. The crash of the waves sounds in the distance though I don’t hear it anymore unless I listen for it. It’s become white noise. Chad asked me a question. I have one for him too. “Why were you such an ass to her?”
 

His tongue flicks out and plays with his lip ring. He crosses his arms. “You getting personal with me?”
 

“You could say I’m burning up with curiosity.”

“That’s fair.” He nods toward me. “My dad’s an ass. I’m an ass. End of story.”
 

I feel a trickle of compassion for him. Just like me. Just like Carly. He has a past that shaped him into who he is. “Believe it or not, we’re not that different. You’re an ass. I have trust issues.” I’m shocked that I admit this, but it just came out, needing to be said.