Erase and Rewind (Full Book)

Chapter Twenty Two: Revelations

They had fallen into an unusual routine. They met when it was vital and when it was unnecessary, discussing possible theories and heading to Malik's studio apartment when it was becoming increasingly frigid to remain seated on park benches.

Malik could no longer deny Noah's pull. It was easy to be around him, there was no need to put on airs or work on impressing him. And while he seemed in a perpetual state of exhaustion from doing odd jobs aside from janitorial duties on campus, he always regarded Malik with astute attention. It made Malik feel like he was the most important part of his day.

That night it was pouring cats and dogs and they were scheming around Malik's coffee table. Noah had returned with answers from Cartier who stated the watch had been the property of an Arthur Baxter, great grandfather of Darius Baxter.

"I'm supposed to know who this is?" Malik asked.

Noah peered up from the laptop, face glowing from the screen's artificial light. "Mr. Baxter built the open air museum at Windsor Park."

"Ah. Tin foil Mona Lisa?"

"It's contemporary art," Noah said. "I don't know how this might help us but...it's a lead."

Us.

Since the heater was an ancient thing that couldn't keep a person warm unless they were transfixed in front of it, Malik had offered up a knitted crochet shawl. Noah had wrapped it around his shoulders, knotting the loose tassels at its hem to keep from slipping as he typed on Malik's laptop. The myriad of Christmas red and green had transformed the ocean blue of Noah's eyes to jade and brushed his cheeks with a becoming rose tint.

"What?" Noah's hand flew to his hair, his fingers combed through the silky strands. It had become a few inches longer than the day they'd met and obscured the pointed ends of his ears.

Malik smiled at his flustered companion. "Coke?"

Noah blinked. "You're drinking soda? Wouldn't the gods of fitness smite you?"

"Free meal tonight, smartass. I can indulge a guilty pleasure."

Noah's lips formed a perfect O at guilty pleasure. The he gulped, gave a curt nod and reached for dollar bills from the front pocket of his worn jeans. "On me."

"Uh..."

"I got paid." Naoh said with a hint of pride.

"You got your rent covered? Did the landlord fix the pipes?"

There had been water outage at Noah's place and he'd implored Malik to use his shower until the problem was sorted.

"Everything is fine," Noah said putting the money on the table.

Malik sighed and relented. "Flavor?"

"Cherry coke, please."

Malik jogged to the nearby supermarket, stocked up on cherry coke and an assortment of snacks. He tried not to grimace at the amount of toxic ingredients and empty carbs in those bags. Noah, however, was prone to consuming whatever wasn't healthy. Malik had tried to make him eggs (which he'd scorched), quinoa noodles (the sauce turned out an indescribable brown mush) and porridge (a tasteless bowl of glob) all of which Noah ate. The worst part, Noah had not given the slightest sign of resistance. He cleaned Malik's disastrous creations and washed the dishes in thanks.

Malik was not awful enough to subject him to another home cooked meal and took up the groceries to the apartment.

Noah had remained cross-legged on the Ikea rug, the laptop then balanced on his thighs while he types in elegant taps. The bundles of clothes made him look thinner than he actually was. The memory of his lustrous, wet skin and shapely muscles burned in Malik's mind. He cleared his throat and tossed a bag of prawn crackers at Noah who ducked. The crackers landed over his shoulder on the couch.