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Noah
A hot shower had always cleared my mind. But, today, it isn't effective as it should have been. The last three hours, after I woke up, are a blur to me. I don't know what I was doing or how I was doing them. For all I know, I am ready and have walked into Bella's room.
When I enter, I see her leaning against her dressing table, putting something on her eyes—ah, mascara. She has worn a white tank top with pink shorts and has her hair wrapped in a blue towel. I would've commented something to make her blush but then, don't as she is concentrating on her eyes.
Hearing my steps, she turns towards me and her eyes widen. "Noah, I am not—"
I give her a quick smile, standing beside her. "We still have a few hours."
"Oh, thank goodness," She sighs and looks down at the mascara. She puts the wand back into the tube, before turning towards me completely.
She says, "Noah, are you sure about it?"
Going to Nottingham, my homeplace wasn't on the plan with Bella. I'd known a moment would come where either of us has to mention it but actually going there? It would've been a yes over my dead arse.
But what happened last night just reminds me how important this trip down memory lane will be.
I sigh, pushing back my hair. "Bella—"
She gives me a hard look. "Noah, no need to do this because my ex called me and told me how dumb we are together—heck, the guy literally lied about his mother's accident. Taking in his word is like eating beans—tasteless and unnecessary."
"Beans?" I grin at her analogy, trying to lighten her up.
"Noah," She frowns. "You shouldn't be forced to tell me about your past."
"I am not," I tell her, softly, "I am not being forced, Iris, I swear. I want to tell you—I have always wanted to tell you. Yes, yes," I gulp.
"It is hard to but I can climb the fucking Everest for you," I add a smile in the end.
She rolls her eyes. "I cannot back you out of this, can I?"
"Did I back you out of the cheerleading that day?"
"That's different."
I tilt my head. "Is it really about my past or going to Nottingham?"
"What? What are you talking about?" She blinks, feigning innocence. I raise my brows, and she sighs. "Okay, I might be a little nervous. I mean it is your birthplace—I really don't know what I signed up for!"
I chuckle and she glares at me. "Noah, I am serious."
I smile at her, taking her hand in mine. "What you are signing up is a tour. The tour to the best places in Nottingham."
She raises a brow and I continue, "We will take long walks and travel in the Trams. We can go to theatres and watch performances you will talk about and I will just listen. Then, we can have a date in a small yet simple place—something you would love and I bet they bake really good cupcakes. At last, we will have two options to take a cruise ride over the Trent or watch a drive-in movie."
Before kissing her hand, I whisper to her, "I recommend the movie, even though I am not interested in the movie, only with whom I will see it."
I wink and she blushes, looking away. Then, I add, "On the plus side, you will meet my grandmother."
She pulls her hand away from my grip and groans. "That's what I am afraid of. She is your grandmother! She probably would be very protective of you."
I scoff. "You will be surprised." I look at the mascara tube in her hand. "Are you going to put that?"
She sighs, looking at it. "Victoria told me how to put the mascara easily but it is not easy. At all."
"I can do it."
Bella narrows her eyes. "You can?"
I step closer to her and lean down to match to look straight into her eyes. She gulps and bites her lips but makes no move to step back. I almost smile at how much she trusts me.
I say, "Yeah, I can."
Before she can say anything, I lift her by her hips and make her sit on the table. She squeaks a little, holding my shoulders. Eyes wide, she gapes at me, as I stand between her legs.
"You—you just—" She stammers, making me grin. Lowering her hands, she pulls away from me a little and asks, "Why did you do that?"
I just simply reply, "Just wanted to keep our eyes at the same level."
But it's not. Her head reaches my eye level, instead of her eyes, and I realize how short she is actually. She can't more be more than five-four—fuck, I can literally hide her behind me. As if realizing the same, she shifts and straightens herself, trying to reach my eye level.
She can't. And I know that it shouldn't make me laugh but it does. I laugh, lightly, and she just gives me a flat glare.
"Just put on the thing," She pushes the tube towards my chest, pouting.
"Yeah." I bite the inside of my cheek and look at her. She still has straightened up her spin. "Relax, Bella. I can lean down."
Giving me a look, she relaxes. I remove the wand, after twisting it in the tube and removing the excess, and put the tube back on the table. Bella eyes the wand, before looking back at me.
Leaning down, I hook a finger under her chin and lift it to make her eyes meet mine. When they do, I stop for a moment—she does too.
"Just stay relaxed but still," I tell her, more like a whisper, and she nods. I lean down a little more and start to work on her curled eyelashes—which I am sure she did with her fingers.
Except for the lip balm, I know she doesn't always put on any other makeup but sometimes she does put the mascara, which is never perfect. I can only imagine her frustration in the morning when she puts it.
Her dark brown eyes are of a beautiful round shape, little angular on the edges. They seem so innocent at first but, fuck, when they have this little sparkle, they can kill you—slowly and torturously. And, right now, they have the same spark but with something more—something deeper.
After finishing the first, I start with the second eye, after repeating the same steps. I put my hand on her cheek, and she leans into the touch almost instinctively. My heart spikes up a beat.
After forever—just some long minutes, I complete it. Reluctantly, I pull away and put back the wand in the tube.
"Where did you learn to do that?" I hear her mutter.
"Amelia," I say, "She couldn't put it on her own. So, she always asked for my help. After two or three tries, I perfected it."
When I look back at Bella, I notice how her chest heaves with labored breathing—that tank top doing nothing to hide it. Cazzo. Her hair is almost out of the towel, making some strands fall onto her shoulder. I clamp down on my jaw, telling myself to breathe—Fucking breathe, Noah.
But breathing becomes a foreign concept when Bella puts her hands around my neck. Her eyes look bigger than usual, courtesy of the mascara.
Maintaining eye contact, I lean down until my lips touch her soft spot: the space her neck meets the collarbone. The smell of berries and jasmine alerting all of my senses, vaguely aware of her leaning back on the mirror, pulling me with her.
I kiss up her neck, savoring the way her small hands clench my shirt on my shoulder. Her shallow breaths sound like fucking music to my ears, even when my heart seems to burst out of its cage.
I pull away to look at her. She looks back, breathing heavily. Not waiting anymore, I secure my mouth over hers and she doesn't waste a second, kissing me back.
It is gentle—soft. The glide of her lips, slightly opened. The sweet taste of that cherry. Fucking heaven. That's what it is. But when she breathes out my name against my lips, again, something in me snaps and I kiss her with more fever.
Bella cups my face and kisses me back with the same intensity, arching her chest again mine. She shudders, and I wrap her legs around my waist, pulling her closer.
Her hand starts trailing along my collar bone while the other buries itself into my hair and flexes her fingers.
"Bella," I breathe out.
I don't know how long—or care about that, but slowly, we pull away to catch our breaths. Our foreheads touching and lips swollen.
"You know what, Bella?"
"What?" She asks me, looking at me from her lashes.
"I think I like cherry too."
Despite the sudden heat in her cheeks, she laughs. I grin at her expression. When I kiss her top of my head, I realize in the heat of the moment the towel has been thrown away to another country.
She realizes the same, touching her hair, and says, sheepishly, "Well, that happened."
***
I cannot stop looking at Bella.
To be honest, I can never stop looking at her but today—fuck, if there's a lady Adonis, that's her.
All the way to Nottingham, and now, on the way to the house, I've been just looking at her and yes, I did crash a few times. She has been looking around, taking pictures of everything with her camera. Or sometimes, talking about how everything—even the buildings—is different from our town.
Her hair is done into a little half bun, making the rest of the hair fall just below her shoulder. She has worn this green floral dress under her denim jacket with white sneakers. Minimal to no makeup, and like always, that damn cherry lip balm.
But it's not that.
It's the way she looks at me every now and then as if trying to see I'm okay or not, to the way she leans her body against my chest as my arm rests over her shoulder, to the way her every touch ignites this certain warmth in me and my hearts goes on an overdrive.
"Noah?" She calls me out.
"Mhmm," I hum as she shifts to look at me.
She smiles but still concerned, she asks, "Are you nervous?"
I shake my head. "Not really."
But it's only a matter of time that I do feel nervous.
Especially when we are finally standing right outside the house. Every memory comes in bits and pieces; both good and bad. Fuck, I feel like my gut has turned itself inside out.
It has been more or less five months since I left Nottingham. And, now, I'm back here. Sure, it is one of my favorite places in the world but it is always a bittersweet feeling being here.
"Hey," I hear Bella's sweet voice as she slips her hand into mine. She glances at me with a soft comforting smile on her lips. "I'm right here, okay?"
I intertwine my fingers with her and let out a breath. She is here. She won't go. She won't, I know.
I'm not even surprised when the house is still the same as I remember. Not too big or too small, but definitely not subtle, courtesy of my grandmother. Behind the pine trees, the house is mostly glass and wooden beams. Six months isn't a long period to change everything but I still notice the different plants in the garden.
I mutter as we walk in, "Can't believe she changed the plants, but not the stupid flamingo statue."
"It's cute," Bella says, eyeing the statue.
"It's anything but that." I scoff. "I swear, Chris and I tried to break that thing so many times. It never breaks—fucking bastard."
She doesn't even roll her eyes as she looks everywhere, taking it in. I am holding our bags on my shoulder—nothing seems to be in them as we have come here for a day, anyway.
I am about to pull out the key, when we reach the door, that I see Bella's hand going towards the bell.
"Don't—"
She rings it.
And then, comes the screeching voices of vultures while they are... making babies.
"Oh my god!" Bella steps back, shocked, and I close my eyes. I don't even know what I should feel—embarrassed or amused?
"What the hell was that?" She asks me, mortified. I open my eyes and give her a sheepish grin.
"A Halloween prank, Chris had done some years ago."
"And why is it still here?"
I push back my hair. "Because we couldn't get it back to normal."
For a long moment, she just stares at me. When she looks away, she sighs and murmurs, "Should've given a warning, Noah."
I smirk. "And miss the look on your face? Naa."
Just as she glares at me, the door opens, revealing a very familiar face.
"Master Arthur!" Asim exclaims. "What are you doing here?"
Asim is our family butler for I don't know how many ages. He has claimed that he has been with us since my grandparents' wedding but the things he knows—he sure has to be longer than that.
I smile. "Asim, how are you?"
"I am good," He replies, nodding. "But what are you doing here? Is Master Chris here too? Jesus forbid, look at you—you are so tall."
"I was always tall, Asim," I say, huffing a laugh. "And no, Chris isn't with me." I look down at Bella who is standing next to me with a lost look.
Then, his glance flits to Bella, and his lips form into an O. Asim holds his hand out and Bella looks so shocked at the sudden action that she leans back a bit but slowly gives her hand for a handshake.
"I am Asim Khan," he says to her. "The house caretaker."
Bella smiles back. "Hello, I am Iris."
"Ooh, nice name."
She grins, now, and says, "Thank you so much."
I look at Asim, confused, as we enter the house. "Caretaker?"
Asim blinks and then, says, "I'll take your bags—"
"Asim."
"Master Arthur."
The only one who is actually enjoying this is Bella as she looks back and forth between Asim and me.
Finally, Asim sighs and says to me, "It is better if you hear it from your grandmother. Not me."
I am about to question more but when Asim glances at Bella, before looking at me, I sigh. "Fine. She isn't here, is she?"
"No, she has gone out," He replies, taking our bags. "She will be back at night... I think." I narrow my eyes. "Anyway, it is a good thing I had your room recently cleaned."
I give a long look to Asim but he just grins at me. Whatever is going on here, I'll deal with it later.
Asim turns to Bella and says, "Welcome to Nottingham."
Welcome to Nottingham, indeed.
***
My room is not extraordinary but as Asim said, it's clean. Although most of my stuff is already back in the States, it is clear that some of the stuff is still kept the way I'd left them to be.
This room doesn't really represent me; it is just a plain white-walled room with a bed and a study table. But some elements are definitely still me. My football jerseys of every team I've played for over the years in Nottingham hang in a row. And the guitars—both electric and acoustic, sit still near the bed.
While living here for the last two years, I had taken off all pictures and posters on the wall—forcefully since I can still see some papers attached to the white walls.
Bella is still looking around the room when I come out of the bathroom, freshened up.
"Not done?" I ask her, sitting on the bed.
She shakes her head and mumbles, "No. Not really."
"Bella," I sigh. "You are not going to find anything interesting other than the white walls."
She shrugs and turns to me. "Still, something has to be there."
I laugh, lightly, and push back my hair. I look back at her and notice that she has changed back to her oversized t-shirt and her hair undone from the bun, now.
"What did you expect?" I ask her, still checking her out shamelessly. She notices and rolls her eyes.
She replies with a cute smile, "Natalie Portman posters from V from Vendetta which maybe you have hidden in the corner of your closet?"
Amused, I lean back on the bed. "Really? That is what you are finding?"
She huffs a laugh and shrugs her shoulders. "Not exactly but you know, like the guilty pleasures you have hidden from me."
I raise my brows. "You know my guilty pleasure."
"Cooking. Yes, I know, but you know, something..." She gestures something with her hand but I don't get it.
Bella sighs and waves me off. "Leave it—I'll find it myself."
She walks towards the black acoustic guitar. When she leans down to touch it, the end of her t-shirt rises—fuck. I, immediately, look away and try to push away any indiscreet thoughts in my mind.
She is killing me and I am letting her do it.
But I shouldn't have looked away as my gaze falls on the last drawer of my study table. I know what's in it.
I walk towards it and open it. The cigarette packets are still there at the same angle I'd left it in, years ago. I pick them up and just look at them.
Smoking makes me be at peace, with myself and the world, in ways that cooking or a hot shower can't. There used to be a time when I saw one, I would definitely do it. But not today.
I don't want it. Not anymore.
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