Closets Aren't Just For Clothes...

Chapter Twenty-Six.

Chapter Twenty-Six.

I burst out into fit of laughter. "N-noah... Adopted...? Why would your parents adopt a hell-raiser like Noah?" I question, practically choking on my laughter because I think he's just messing with me.

Matt's expression doesn't change. "Talk to him about it. I don't know the whole story. I'm not even supposed to know," he admits. "Noah and I swapped secrets years ago. Secrets pull people apart, at least, it did for us anyways," he finishes.

I stop laughing. "Wait, you're actually serious, aren't you?" I start to feel a knot churn in my stomach, as Matt nods in response.

Why couldn't Noah just tell me that? Being adopted isn't a bad thing. More like a sad thing. Is it that Noah doesn't trust me enough to tell me? I mean; how could he not tell me. He can get mad at me, for giving him the cold shoulder at school, but I can't get mad at him for not telling me, what is probably the most important thing that happened to him?

"Are you okay, Em?" Matt asks.

I nod pathetically. "I just don't get why he couldn't tell me that. It's not that big of a deal."

Matt shrugs. "To him, it is. Just like my secret is a big deal to me. You're willing to accept it, but other people aren't. He's never really going to be a part of our... well, what I guess you could call family," he explains. "If my parents knew that I was gay, I'd get the same treatment as him, probably worse, and I don't want that," he says.

"So that's it? Noah's adopted, that's what he doesn't want me to know?" I question confused.

He hesitates on his response. "If he cares about you, like he's leading you to think he does, he'll tell you everything else. If not..." he trails off. "Then I guess I was right."

"But you don't care enough about me, to tell me the rest of his secret?" I tease.

Matt looks at me and simply says, "I'll always care about you, Em. Sometimes, more than I should. Other times, in ways that I wish I could, but it's not my secret to tell."

After Matt and I went back downstairs, to finish dinner, we didn't have any problems. We seem to be back on good terms. For now, until one of us does something to screw it up again. There are too many complications between Matt and I now. These days, Noah is my Matt-stress-reliever.

Around nine thirty, my parents turn in for the night. That's when I make sure to leave the spare key underneath the mat in front of the front door. Then I lock it again. Noah's been over a couple nights and has had to use the key to get in. If we lived in a house in the suburbs, Noah would probably just be able to sneak in through my bedroom window, or something. I have a window, but it's about fifteen stories from the ground.

When I get back up to my room, I put on an oversized t-shirt and lay in bed under the covers. I still have about an hour and a half until Noah will show up, that's if he even remembers, or decides to. He was a little mad at me earlier today. I can't exactly blame him, either. I am being unfair to him. I can't be fair to him without being unfair to Matt, and vice versa. Nothing's fair though.

I guess I fell asleep because I feel a pair of arms sliding around my waist in attempt to pull me closer. I'm half asleep, but I feel a smile start to form on my lips. Even when I'm asleep Noah still makes me smile.

I think he knows that he's waking me up because he purposely starts to slide his hand up my t-shirt, just to get a rise out of me. He's such a pervert.

"Noah," I giggle.

"I knew you were faking," Noah whispers in my ear.

I roll over in his arms and look at him. "I didn't know if you'd show up."