Unraveled (12 page)

So I sit and
stare at the water, not moving.

When I hear
the sliding glass door open a bit later, I tense slightly.

Tate moves
into my line of vision and takes the chair again, his expression full of
regret. “You didn't deserve that and I'm sorry.”

Surprise
flickers across my face and I stare at him.

“I shouldn't
have said the things I said. You aren't stupid and I have a feeling a lot of
the things you did was due to Cole pressuring you,” he says quietly.

“As much as
I'd like to pass off the blame to him, I can't. In the end, I made the decision
to do drugs and to stay with him, Tate,” I say honestly.

“I know.”

I fall
quiet.

“I just feel
like I failed you somehow. I left you with Julie and Steve thinking that you'd
turn out better than you would if I'd brought you here with me. Yet, you still
got into this mess with Cole and I wish I could have somehow prevented it,” he
says with a sigh as he rubs his jaw.

“You didn't
fail me,” I insist. “You did what you thought was best. Tate, you were eighteen
and you had your own life to finally start living. That's what I'm trying to
do, I'm just currently making a mess of it but these are my mistakes to make
and learn from.”

“Are you
learning from them, Blayre? I sound like an ass but I need to know you're not
going to get involved with Cole again.”

“Cole and I
are over. I swear,” I promise.

Tate's gaze searches
mine and he looks relieved. “The drugs. How drawn to them are you?”

“I'm not
addicted, Tate. Go search my room if you want.”

He slowly
shakes his head. “No, I believe you.” Then he looks at me intently. “I have to
ask, is there anything else you are keeping from me?”

Alarm shoots
through me and I fight to keep it off my face. Noah... No. He wouldn't. “What
do you mean?”

“Well, you
kept the abuse from me and the fact that you got involved with drugs. Is there
anything else I should know about, because now’s the time to lay it all out.”

“There's
nothing else,” I lie.

“Alright. As
long as we're hashing this shit out, can we revisit the topic of a restraining
order?”

“No.”

“I'd feel
better, Blayre.”

“
You
would but I don't need one. Cole's not going to come after me, Tate.”

He shakes
his head, his expression grim. “I just have a bad feeling about him.”

“I think
you'd have a bad feeling about anyone I dated,” I joke, trying to lighten the
mood.

He hesitates
and then gives me a wry smile. “True. After everything that's gone down lately,
you're not dating again until you're twenty-five.”

“Yeah,
right!”

“I'll scare
off every guy that comes sniffing around you,” he says as he rises to his feet.
“C'mon, pizza showed up about fifteen minutes ago.”

We head
inside and I can't help but wonder what Tate would think if he knew Noah was
interested in me. Would he be angry or would he be okay with it since he knew
Noah? Considering we've already messed around, I think he'd probably lean more
towards anger.

Tate pulls
out some paper plates and we set up the pizza on the island counter. “How's
school going?” he asks before he starts devouring a slice of pizza.

“It sucks
just as much as it did last week.”

“Has Cole
approached you?” he asks casually.

“No,” I lie.

“Good.”

That night,
as I get ready for bed I find a business card taped to my toothpaste in the
medicine cabinet. I pull it off with a frown and study it. It's a hot-line
number for self-harmer's.

Noah.

I flip it
over and see his masculine hand writing on the back
. Just think about it.
With a soft sigh, I crumple up the business card and toss it in the garbage. I
should have known he wouldn't let it be. It is irritating but I also know he's
doing it because he cares. After years of being abused, it's amazing to feel
cared about.

My eyes lift
to the mirror and I take in my bruised face. I still look pretty bad but it's
my eyes that have changed. What used to look haunted now look determined. I am
going to somehow make this life of mine work. I still have no intention of
coming forward about the convenience store robbery but somehow, in some way—I
am going to make it right. I have no idea how, but there has to be something I
can do. If I could bring back Sean or even take his place, I'd do it in a
heartbeat.

But life
doesn't work that way.

I would have
to figure out what comes next on my own.

By Friday, my
mood is upbeat as I get ready for my evening with Noah. Not even the bruises
still marring my face could bring me down.

Well, not
that much anyway.

I managed to
cover a lot of them with makeup and I was wearing a light coating of lipstick
to try to hide the cut on my lip. I definitely look better than I had at the
beginning of the week. I pick up my brush and run it through my long hair one
last time before deciding I'm ready.

Now, all I
have left to decide on is which shoes to wear. I head for my room and go to my
closet. The boots Cole bought for me are there, along with a couple pairs of
wedge sandals. I'm wearing a cute flashy silver tank top that is on the large
side, over a tight black tank and a short black skirt with a slight ruffled
flair around the bottom. The boots would look the best but since Cole bought
them for me, I find myself a bit hesitant to wear them.

Then my mind
shifts to the last time I'd worn them for Noah. It had been the night I'd ended
up in his bed. Those boots had some good memories so it didn't seem fair to
toss them in the garbage because my ex had bought them for me.

I grab them
and slip them on before I change my mind.

Speaking of
Cole...I'd been a little worried this week, fully expecting him to approach me
again but he'd left me alone. It had been a relief and the rest of the week had
gone smoothly. Well, at least as smoothly as it could for someone like myself.

I head
downstairs and find Noah out on the patio smoking a quick cigarette as he waits
for me. The rest of the house is silent due to the fact that Tate's working a
late shift tonight and I'm thankful for that. If he saw me all dressed up and
heading out with Noah, he'd assume it was a date.

I knew it
bothered Noah that he'd kept his interest in me a secret but after what had
gone down last weekend, I think even he knows that Tate would be against us
dating. It wouldn't matter to my brother that Noah is his best friend. He'd
made it clear earlier in the week that he didn't want me dating anyone anytime
soon.

As I step
into the cool night, I scan Noah's attire. He's wearing designer jeans that had
the well-worn look and a dark burgundy short sleeve shirt that hugs his chest
and shoulders in all the right places. He catches sight of me and immediately
puts his cigarette out in the ashtray on the patio table. His gaze slides over
me from head to toe. “I'll have to keep a close eye on you tonight,” he says
lightly as he walks over to me.

“Why?” I ask
with puzzlement.

He grins. “If
I don't, some other guy will try to steal you from me. You look really good.”
His eyes drop and focus on my boots. “I've never been into the boot-look but I
have to say you wear them well.”

“Yeah?” I
say, slightly bemused. I wasn't sure how much I enjoyed wearing them but the
guys seemed to like them which made it worth it. Especially when it was Noah
who was doing the admiring.

“Yeah,” he
confirms.

We make our
way out to the garage and then we climb in Noah's car. With the overhead light
on, he looks at me questioningly. “Where to?”   

I'd won our
little bet so I get to choose what we do tonight. I'm pretty sure he let me win
because he was curious to see what I'd plan. I'd thought long and hard about
what to do and in the end, I decided I want to be spontaneous. “Just head
downtown and park somewhere. I want to walk around for a bit,” I say.

He nods and
starts the car up. Both of us are silent as we make our way downtown. Noah
navigates through the traffic before parallel parking on a busy street. We both
climb out and Noah smiles as he walks toward me. “I'm all yours.”

I know he
means it in more ways than one and I like it.

We begin to
walk down the sidewalk and since this is not a date, he doesn't put his arm
around me or hold my hand. I find myself wishing it was and try to push aside
those thoughts. Tonight is about having fun with a friend.

My eyes scan
the shops and restaurants as we pass by. I spot a little Mexican restaurant up
ahead and my eyes brighten. I reach for Noah's hand and lead him inside. The
scent of jalapeños and peppers, mixed with other scents make my mouth water
since we'd skipped dinner earlier, knowing we'd likely eat out tonight.

The
restaurant is decorated in a Mexican theme and full of bright, lively colors.
The place is kind of crowded but the hostess manages to find us a little table
in the back. We sit down and order our drinks before scanning our menus.

“I suppose I
should have asked if you like Mexican,” I say to Noah when he looks up from his
menu.

“I do,” he
assures.

I decide on
quesadillas while Noah orders a platter of enchiladas. When we're alone again,
I settle back in my chair, take a sip of my soda and look at Noah with great
interest.

He catches
the look in my eye and gives me a questioning look. “What's on your mind?”

“What kind
of women do you usually go for?”

“Dark haired
with green eyes.”

I roll my
eyes. “I'm serious. Do you gravitate more towards blondes or brunettes? Or
maybe redheads?”

Noah looks
amused. “You really want to know?”

“Yep.”

“I never
really had a 'type.' I just went out with someone when they caught my interest
and seemed interested in return.”

Well, that
doesn't tell me too much. “Do you like bold women or do you like the ones that
are comfortable not being the center of attention?”

“Does it
really matter?”

“I'm just
curious.”

He shakes
his head. “Be curious about something else. I am not talking about women with
you, it's a complete mood killer.”

I'm
disappointed but let him have his way. I was just trying to figure out what
kind of women usually caught his attention in hopes that it would tell me a
little more about why he's interested in me. “Okay, tell me what life was like
before the accident,” I say lightly as I switch the topic.

Our waitress
pauses at our table before he can answer and sets a bowl or tortilla chips and
salsa down, before sauntering away. He reaches for one and says in reference to
my question, “It was pretty average. I never knew my dad and my mom died when I
was eight, so I grew up in foster homes,” he explains as he dips the chip in
the sauce and pops it in his mouth.

“When you
say foster homes as in plural, how many are you talking?” I ask as I reach for
the chips as well.

“Several. I
got bounced around a lot but eventually ended up in a stable home my junior and
senior year. I had friends, played sports and did all the stuff guys tend to
do.”

“I bet you
were popular in high school and on the football team, am I right?”

“Guilty.”

“And you got
frisky with the head cheerleader behind the bleachers.”

“Guilty.”

I grin at him.
“So you were the typical, popular jock.” I could so see it. He was just so laid
back and easy going. I bet the girls fought over him.

“I was,
yes.”

“Do you miss
those times?” I ask curiously.

Noah laughs.
“No. Obviously I miss my hearing but those days are over and I'm pretty happy
with where life has taken me.”

I nod. “I
like that.”

“Like what?”

“That you
don't really have any regrets.”

“There's no
point regretting what you can't change. You just move on,” he says lightly.

When our
meal arrives, we begin to eat.

“Tell me
something about you that I don't know yet,” Noah says out of the clear blue.

My mouth is
full of food, so I chew and think over his question before swallowing and
answering. “I hate country music.”

“That's
menial. Tell me something good,” he says as he pushes his plate aside and looks
at me with interest.

“Um...I
don't know. You know mostly everything about me,” I say with a shrug.

“How about
this. If you could do anything in the world with nothing holding you back, what
would you do?” he asks.

My nose
wrinkles. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” he
says with amusement.

I think long
and hard before looking at him sheepishly. “I'd take a vacation.”

“A
vacation?” he asks slowly, obviously not expecting that one.

“Yeah. Seven
days of relaxation and bliss. No past, no future to worry over, just me and
seven days of freedom to be who I want to be.”

“Where would
you go?” he asks with interest.

“Hawaii.”

“So, you
could do anything in the world, and you would choose the average vacation
getaway?”

“Yep.”

He smiles.
“Interesting. Ready?” he asks, referring to the fact that my plate is empty and
we'd decided to forgo desert.

“I believe I
am.”

We pay our
bill and exit the restaurant. My mood is relaxed and light hearted as we walk
down the busy sidewalk. It's a Friday evening and everyone seems to be out and
about. Noah is patient as we walk and not a single suggestion leaves his mouth.
He's clearly willing to walk around all night if that is what I want to do. I
spot the tattoo shop up ahead and excitement bolts through me.

That's it.
That's
what I want to do.

I grab
Noah's hand and lead him towards the tattoo shop. I catch sight of the wary
look crossing his features as we head inside. Loud music greets us and I see
the shop is pretty busy. People are standing at the counter up front while
others move around the room, looking at all the tattoo designs on the walls.

Noah's hand
touches my hip as he leans in and says, “Please tell me we aren't here for a
tattoo.”

I grin up at
him. “You are. I'm here for a piercing.” 

“You want me
to get a tattoo?”

“Yeah.”
Actually, I don't expect him to but I'm curious to see how far he'll go to do
what I want tonight.

Doubt
flickers across his face before his expression shifts into a slight smile.
“Does that mean you're picking the design?”

He's clearly
yanking my chain and has decided to play the game with me. “You want me to?”

“Why not,”
he says with a shrug. “But I get to choose the piercing, right?
Where
are you getting pierced?”

“Belly
button.” He looks relieved and I'm curious as to where he thought I'd pierce
myself besides my belly button but I decide to leave that inquiry for later.
“Alright, go find me a piercing. Something cute,” I order before I saunter off
to go look at the tattoos on the walls.

Once I make
my way across the room, I glance back to see if Noah's going to do as I ask and
I see he's up front, scanning the glass encased counter that has piercings on
display. I've already decided to buy whatever he picks for me whether I like it
or not.

I turn my
attention back to the tattoos and I slowly walk around. There's plenty to
choose from and I am fully aware that Noah won't really be getting a tattoo,
but it's fun to look at them and choose one that I would think he'd like. I
pass by insects and devils and all that stuff you usually see on guys. There's
a huge selection of tribal designs and I pause briefly before continuing on for
my search of the perfect tattoo. Noah already had a tribal design around his
bicep. I personally wouldn't want to see another one on him.

As soon as I
see all the crosses, I slow down and hesitate. I hate anything religious. I
hate going to church and I can't stand seeing religious decorations. It's not
because I don't believe in God, because I do. My aunt and uncle didn't destroy
my faith in Him. I just...didn't like it in my face on a daily basis. However,
Noah's cross on his necklace flashes in my mind. His cross meant something to
him and I thought it was beautiful that he wore it in honor of his mother. I
would never get a cross tattoo on my body, but I could definitely see Noah
getting one in remembrance of his mother.

I step
closer and begin to scan them. If I were to pick one out for him, it would
be...that one. I lean forward and study it intently. It's about two inches long
and it's not frilly but it's not simple either. It has a simple, very detailed
cross in the middle with a design that interweaves around it. It's beautiful. I
reach out and trail my nail over the laminated surface, tracing the cross.

“That for
me?” Noah asks from directly behind me.

I start
slightly and then turn and smile up at him. “If you were getting a tattoo and
allowing me to choose, it would be that one,” I say as I point to the cross.

His eyes
follow the direction of my finger and he steps closer, scanning the cross
intently. “You have good taste.”

This has me
grinning because I'd gotten something right for once. “So, what do you have for
me?” I ask as I spot the little plastic slip in his hand.