Soulmates (9 page)

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Authors: Holly Bourne

BOOK: Soulmates
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I paused for a moment, and then sighed. “Okay.” Another brilliant smile and dolphins started diving through my belly. “I don’t think I could say ‘no’ any more if I tried.”

He stood up and offered me his hand. I took it, feeling another surge of energy pass through us.

“Thank God for that,” he said.

And we walked back down the stinging-nettle-fringed path together, holding hands.

I insisted we stop at my house so I could make myself more presentable.

“But you look fine,” Noah complained.

“Fine is the polite word for crappy,” I replied, wondering if he would mind waiting while I washed my hair.

“Girls are so weird.”

“It’s what keeps us mysterious.”

“Mysterious is an understatement.”

I hesitated when we got to my house and dropped his hand. “Umm. Do you mind waiting out here?” I asked, looking down at the ground.

Noah took in my little detached house and smiled. “So this is where you live?”

“You’re not going to stalk me now, are you?”

“You would love it if I did.”

“I don’t think people enjoy getting stalked. It’s not up there on the list of great things to happen to you.”

Another stomach-flipping grin. “Yes, well, they’ve not been stalked by me, have they? I’m wonderful. Very polite. Why can’t I come in?”

I struggled for the right words. “Well…if you came in you would meet my mother…and that’s just not a good idea.”

He looked puzzled.

“She gets worried about me, you see. And, well, if she sees you I’m going to have to explain you, and I’m not sure I can, and…it’s just easier if you stay outside.”

He nodded. “Fair enough.”

“I’ll be five minutes.”

I knew it would be more like ten minutes and I felt mildly guilty about leaving him standing in the street, but Mum would be UNBEARABLE if she saw him. I dashed inside and, as if she knew I was thinking about her, Mum appeared on the stairs just as I was about to run up them.

“Hello, dear,” she said, cradling a pile of laundry. “Did you have a nice walk?”

I shimmied past her to make the interrogation as short as possible. “Yes thanks.”

“Where are you off to?” she called after me.

“Just into town.”

“Where into town?”

“To get some coffee.”

“Who are you going with?”

She should have been an MI5 interrogator. I closed my eyes and lied yet again. “Just meeting Lizzie to go through some coursework.”

That seemed to satisfy her. I buried the guilt. There were much more pressing things happening. Like, Noah was outside my house. MY house. And we were going for coffee. Together. Less than six hours after promising myself I wouldn’t let him into my life. Well, promises were made to be broken, weren’t they? Or was that rules? Either way, I felt happy. Hallelujah happy. Happier than I’d been in for ever. And, much as I was aware how awful it was to attribute such happiness to a boy, I was fed up with denying myself him. Right, now where was my mascara?

The five minutes became fifteen as I frantically overhauled my face, hair and clothes until I resembled someone worthy of having such an attractive man by their side. When I emerged back onto the street, Noah was leaning against a tree.

He scanned me and I forced my heart to behave itself.

He whistled. “Well, I was just about to moan about you leaving me so long, but as you look so beautiful I might have to forgive you.”

I felt my face go red. “Sorry. I got sidelined by my mother, who was very interested in where I was going.”

We started walking towards town.

“And what did you tell her?”

I thought about whether to lie again and decided against it. I wanted him to hold my hand again and the need made me feel slightly pathetic. “I told her I was meeting Lizzie.”

“Poppy, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I’m not Lizzie. My name’s Noah. You know? That guy from the kick-ass band?”

We were still walking without hand-holding.

I wrinkled my nose. “You don’t do low self-esteem very well, do you?”

Noah shrugged. “That’s just as well considering you’re so ashamed of me you’re lying to your parents.”

Deep breath.

I turned to him, hoping I wouldn’t stumble on the pavement. “Look,” I said. “I don’t know you. You don’t know me. But, as you know because Ruth blurted it out, I have…
stuff
in my life. It’s all very boring and clichéd, but my mum’s part of it, and if you can be bothered to stay around long enough I might tell you, but I really don’t feel like it right now. Okay?”

A sudden scorch shot through my arm. Noah had taken my hand.

He looked at me intently. “I plan on staying around long enough.”

And then he fixed me with such an incredible smile I’m surprised I didn’t keel over right in the middle of the road.

Middletown town centre wasn’t an attractive place. Okay, so it wasn’t ugly – far too uppity for that. But it lacked any character. The pedestrianized area was clogged full of bland chain stores – the upmarket ones, of course. I didn’t go into town very often. Whenever I needed clothes I much preferred to hop on a train to London so I could scour the vintage shops.

But, despite the distinct lack of choice, I was still surprised when Noah led me to a Caffè Nero.

I hesitated at the door.

“What is it?”

“You’re taking me to a Caffè Nero?”

He looked confused. “So?”

I couldn’t resist the urge to take the piss. “Isn’t it a bit ‘commercial’ for an anti-establishment rock star like yourself?”

He dropped my hand and dug into his pocket. “But I’ve got a loyalty card,” he protested. “And I’ve got enough stamps to get you a free coffee.”

This was too much fun.

“So you’re not only a sell-out but a cheapskate as well?”

He looked slightly pissed off but still smiled. “Are you ever nice to
anybody
?” He opened the door for me.

“Only people who earn it,” I replied, walking in.

“I can’t believe you don’t like coffee. I feel like I’m taking my five-year-old niece out for the day.”

We had found a comfy sofa to share and Noah was getting revenge for my ribbing him earlier.

I took a big sip of my banana-flavoured milk unashamedly. “Oi,” I said. “This is a very grown-up sophisticated drink.”

“It’s not embarrassing to order grown-up sophisticated drinks. Did you see the look the shop assistant gave me when I ordered
banana milk.
” Noah shook his head.

I refused to get upset. “Nobody really likes coffee. They just pretend to because drinking coffee makes them feel like a proper adult.”

“Is that right, Einstein?”

The place was packed. We’d been lucky to get the last sofa. Other couples and groups were dispersed around us, slurping and gossiping, enjoying Saturday.

Noah and I were almost touching. He was leaning back, relaxed against the arm of the sofa. It was still strange to be here. I could feel the energy build between our bodies, but again, felt able to contain the reaction he usually brought out in me.

I nodded. “Everyone who orders coffee secretly wants a banana milk. I just have the courage to order what I really want.” I held out my straw. “Come on, taste it.”

He batted my glass away. “I don’t want your banana milk.”

I pushed it at him again. “Go on. Just a little taste.”

“No.”

“You’re scared.”

“Of banana milk?”

“Yep. You’re not comfortable enough with your masculinity to try some.”

I shoved it under his nose and he hit it away again, spilling some over me. I squealed and got up off the sofa to dry myself off, but Noah grabbed my waist and pulled me onto him. I squealed again and my body automatically nuzzled into his shoulder while he rested his face against mine. My breathing became short. I was getting incredibly hot.

We stayed like that a moment, both trying to ignore the distinct smell of banana emanating from my top.

“You’re not exactly what I thought you would be like,” Noah said without warning.

My stomach dropped. Dread quickly filled my body. I’d felt so relaxed around him, I’d let my guard down almost immediately. “Is that bad?” I squeaked.

He pulled me into him tighter and I relaxed. A tiny bit.

“No, it’s good,” he said. “You’re not like other girls I’ve been with…I mean…I know…”

I looked up at him, which was difficult considering his head was resting on mine.

“Do they pretend to like coffee?”

He laughed. “Yes. They do.”

I shook my head, immediately hating them all. And when he said he’d “been with” them, what did he mean? Well, I knew what he meant. I silently cursed my virginity and struggled with what to say next.

“They’re lying to themselves and so are you.”

“Poppy. I like coffee. I’m not lying to myself.”

“I bet you didn’t like it the first time you tried it.”

He thought about it. “No. I don’t suppose I did.”

I turned over to look at him directly. “So why did you continue to drink it?”

“I dunno.”

I poked him in the chest. “It’s BECAUSE you liked what being a coffee-drinker implied. The ‘image’ it gives out. You forced yourself to like it because you wanted to look like a proper grown-up person. When
really
all you wanted was banana milk.” I held out the glass again. “Now drink up.”

With amusement in his eyes, he leaned forward and took a long sip. He swallowed.

“So?”

“Yeah, it’s good.”

I punched the air triumphantly. “I told you.”

He grabbed my arm mid-punch and again pulled me into him. I settled back against his lean body, proud of myself for winning the argument.

“You are just the teeniest bit crazy, aren’t you?” he whispered in my ear, making every inch of my body erupt in goosebumps.

“Every girl is a teeny bit crazy. Some of them are just better at hiding it than others.”

“I suppose you’re right. I like that you don’t try to hide it.”

I laughed. “I do try and hide it! I’m just not very good at it. I’m incapable of keeping my mouth shut.”

“I like you very much, Poppy Lawson.”

I let the words sink in and a smile stretched across my face.

“Yeah…well…you’ll do,” I replied. And then I squealed again as he tickled the side of my stomach in protest.

Time passed at record speed as we sat there, getting to know each other better. We became one of those incredibly annoying couples who laugh at each other hysterically. When Noah came back from the till holding two glasses of banana milk, I burst out laughing and got a few dirty looks from customers. We talked about everything and nothing. Hours passed but neither of us brought up anything serious. There were huge questions hanging over us, questions we’d come here to supposedly work out. What was Noah going to do about Portia? What was this weird thing between us? Were we going to get together? If so, what would that mean? I was dying to ask about his past and the rumours I’d heard. I was sure he was intrigued to know more about me too, like why I’d hidden him in a bush so he wouldn’t have to meet my mother, or what the deal was with my panic attacks.

But it was so much easier to talk about nothing. We talked favourite movies, favourite bands, books, and all the usual stuff, but I didn’t take much in. To be honest, while he was talking, I couldn’t concentrate much. I would nod convincingly when really I was examining his gorgeous cheekbones, staring into those black eyes, or fighting the urge to run my fingers through his hair. I think he felt the same because sometimes, like when I was explaining why I told everyone my favourite band was The Beatles when really I didn’t have a clue who my favourite band was and I was just copying my parents, he would suddenly cup my face with his hand. It was a surprise to both of us when we looked out the window and saw it’d grown dark. I had one last slurp of my drink and took Noah’s outstretched hand.

We dawdled home, wanting to draw out the journey for as long as possible. As we walked past identical manicured lawns, I learned that Noah obsessively read newspapers.

“Really? But they’re so depressing.”

“You shouldn’t hide from what’s going on in the world just because it’s depressing.”

“Now you really do sound like an anti-capitalist rock star.”

“Shut up.”

“So how many do you read?”

“All of them, including both the locals.”

I was stunned. Well, he didn’t go to college, and he hadn’t mentioned a job. I guessed that gave him time to read all the papers.

“Isn’t that an expensive habit?”

He shrugged. “My parents pay.”

Silence. We hadn’t discussed his parents either. I wondered whether Lizzie’s gossip was true. Did he really live alone? At seventeen? I supposed there was time to find out.

“So what’s happening in the world then?” I asked.

“Loads. In fact, lots has been happening in Middletown recently.”

I stopped in the road. “Yeah right,” I said sarcastically.

He nodded. “It’s true. Do your parents not get the local papers? There was a story last week from the local weather association. They say there’ve been all these weird temperature fluctuations. Haven’t you noticed we’ve had random hot days come out of nowhere?”

“Surely that’s just global warming?”

“Nope. The weather patterns have been totally out of whack.”

I wasn’t convinced. Who belonged to a weather association anyway? Boring! “What else has happened?”

“Weird electrical shortages. Totally unexplained. There was this story in the
Middletown Observer
about people who’ve randomly had stuff blow up in their homes. And remember that first gig I did at Band Night?”

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