We Make Mayhem [boyxboy]

Chapter Eighteen

Someone suddenly sat down across from me. I almost snapped at them to leave me alone, but looking up, I realized it was Noah, wearing sunglasses with his hood pulled up. He grinned at me, that flyaway bit of hair at the front sticking almost straight up, curling over the edge of his hood. He dropped a newspaper on the table: the New York Times.

"It made it into the print edition," he said. "I can't believe it."

I blurted out, "I thought you were ditching."

What I meant was I thought you were avoiding me. Noah peered at me over the edge of his sunglasses.

"Have you seen the front of the school?" he asked.

"No."

"There's a swarm of reporters. I had to turn the car around and get my dad's security team to drive me and escort me through a side door. I missed first period."

He took his sunglasses off and just... looked at me, like I was a work of art. Maybe even a masterpiece. I felt my face split into this ridiculous grin. I put my hand over my mouth. It felt unseemly to let on just how excited I was.

"How are you?" Noah asked.

"Great," I said. "How was the rest of your weekend?"

"Boring. Yours?"

"Same."

The subtext was pretty obvious: the rest of our weekends were boring because Saturday night was so exciting. Noah's cheeks went pink. I had to look away from him for a second to give myself a break. Catch my breath.

Now that I was seeing him in the flesh again, I had even less doubt in Temptr's matchmaking abilities. Strange feelings boiled up inside me. One of them scared me more than all the others: certainty.

I grabbed the newspaper and flipped through to his profile. The picture of him looked better on newsprint than on my phone's screen.

"Look at you in the New York Times," I said. "Like some kind of hot shot."

He winked at that, but said, "I'm kind of regretting the whole thing. The whole ordeal's just become yet another opportunity for people to make jabs at my dad." He sighed. "I thought it would be fun, but I feel sort of guilty."

I hummed as if I understood, but I so didn't. My dad was just some construction guy; nothing I did, short of ending up in jail or something, reflected on him. But Noah and his dad...

"He gets it all the time, though, doesn't he?" I ventured.

"Oh yeah, and from all directions. From lowly syndicated columnists all the way up to activist podcasters."

I snorted. Noah was still looking at me in that fond way, but something had undeniably come between us. Chloe. His dad. The inevitable tension between the two, which we hadn't really ever talked about.

We hadn't really talked much, at all.

"So, um..." I swallowed hard. "Your dad is Decker Lord."

"He sure is."

"What's he like?" I asked. "It's kind of hard to get a read on him."

"He has a finely crafted public persona he likes to hide behind." He added, "I want you to meet him sometime. I think he'd like you."

"Really?"

He nodded. "He'd find you very interesting."

"Even with my history?"

"You say that like you're a murderer or something," he teased. "You just disagree with him. He doesn't care."

It was then that I made the mistake of looking over his shoulder. Chloe was watching us, her body only twisted enough to be able to say she was just stretching. Her eyes were narrowed, like she was trying to pierce a hole in Noah's back. God only knew what she was thinking, but I could take a good guess.

"He might be the only one," I said.

"Chloe?"

"Glaring daggers as we speak. Wait, don't look!"

I reached out and grabbed his forearm to stop him from turning around. I felt his wiry forearm under the soft cotton of his hoodie. An ache flared up deep inside me. It was almost too much to stop myself from pulling him toward me and kissing him in front of the whole cafetiria. Judging by the knowing smile that haunted the corners of his mouth, he knew.

I just knew.

I wanted to ask him right then and there, but I was a coward.

"What are you doing after school?" he asked.

"Recording."

"What time will you be done?"

"About five."

"Can I pick you up?"

"Yes," I said automatically.

"Okay." He nodded. "Great. I'll be here."

"What should we do?"

"Oh, don't you worry. I've got Plans."

"With a capital P?"

He winked. "I knew you'd hear the capital."

I wanted to melt into a puddle on the cafetiria floor. I settled for a goofy grin and hoped I didn't look too in love with him. Judging by the twinkle in his eye as the bell rang and he turned to go, I failed.

As I made my way to Biology class, his words ran through my mind like a chorus: I knew. Those same words again.

Maybe that night, I'd find the courage to ask him exactly what he knew.