Dedication to xsnowberryx for the AMAZING cover!
Chapter 13
I nervously shifted in my seat, waiting impatiently as my mother readied herself for my friend’s arrival. “Mom, don’t ask about Noah’s mother, or Marissa’s mother. Don’t ask about parents in general.”
My mother nodded, rolling her eyes. “I wasn’t going to.”
I just nodded as I sat on the couch, watching her fix her hair in the mirror. She was wearing a casual pair of jeans and a blouse. We weren’t doing anything fancy for dinner; in fact, she’s ordering pizza. But we can’t have her running around in her sweatpants with paint stains on them. Once the doorbell rang, I sprang out of my seat and opened the door, greeted with the sight of Marissa standing there with Noah, who looked bored, behind her.
“Hello, come in,” I smiled awkwardly as I opened the door wider, standing beside it. Once Noah entered, I closed it behind them. Earlier, I made sure that the house was clean and that there weren’t any random items sitting around. I turned and noticed Noah looking around, his eyes falling on the television before they fell to the couch and then the bookshelf. They stayed there for a moment. Marissa was wrapping my mother in an unexpected hug. She easily accepted it, though.
She extended her hand to Noah, who surprisingly took it in his own. “I’m Penelope. I’m assuming you’re Noah.”
Noah nodded, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. He seemed surprised that my mother knows who he is. Or maybe he recognizes her. “Yeah, I’m Noah.”
“I’ve already met Marissa. Sit, sit, make yourselves at home,” my mother told them, taking a seat on the small love seat while we were all forced to sit on the three seater.
“Happy belated birthday, Noah,” my mother announced, smiling at Noah, who nodded back in response, allowing his eyes to drift towards the bookshelf. My mother noticed and nodded towards it. “Go ahead; feel free to check it out.”
He stood up and walked towards it, running his hands along the spines of the books. I nervously crossed my legs, thinking of the blue gift bag behind the couch, under the small table with a vase on it. I was going to give it to him yesterday but decided against it. I’d rather not make it awkward by giving him a gift in the eye of the public, not that I’m embarrassed- more like frightened by his potential responses. “So, Marissa, how’d you and Kenna become friends?”
Marissa looked at me, wondering if she should tell her that I was her designated driver or if she should make up some story on the spot. I just shrugged and she smiled at my mother. “Well, your daughter doesn’t drink and is terrible at doing makeup, no offense Kenna, and I happen to drink on occasion and I’m okay at doing makeup. We agreed that she will be my designated driver and I’ll do her makeup when she wants me to.”
I was surprised that she openly admitted to drinking. Normally, someone would feed a false story to an adult, especially one of their friend’s parents. “And where does Noah come into the picture?”
I couldn’t tell whether or not my mother was disappointed in me for being friends with Marissa. I mean, she knows Marissa drinks; she’s known for a while, but I hope she’s happy that at least Marissa is honest about it. If it were anyone else, they’d probably lie about it or make up some lame excuse.
At the sound of his name, Noah glanced at us before turning his attention back to the bookshelf. “Your daughter coerced me into being her friend.”
My face reddened at the idea of forcing Noah into being my friend. I didn’t force him, did I? “That isn’t true!”
“All you ever do is force me into conversations that I don’t want to be included in,” he sighed as he pulled a book from the shelf.
I was about to say something in response but Marissa scoffed. “That isn’t true at all.”
“Oh really?” Noah responded. I noticed my mother sitting back with a look of amusement on her face.
“You seemed pretty eager to talk to her at the gala,” Marissa retorted and Noah scowled.
“You don’t know what you’re talking—,” he was effectively cut off by the doorbell.
“Noah, can you get that for me? It’s the pizza guy. The money is on the table beside the door,” my mother asked and Noah nodded, jogging over towards the hallway that led to the door.
My mother winked at me, nudging me as she leaned over slightly. “He is cute.”
Marissa snorted, shaking her head at me. She now knows that I told my mother about Noah in terms of his attractiveness. Speaking of the devil, he entered the living room and placed the box down on the table between the two couches before taking the seat beside Marissa, who I forced to sit in the middle. “So what are your hobbies?”
“I like to hang out with my friends, shop, and watch television,” Marissa casually stated, taking a slice of pizza. I copied her motions, placing a pizza slice on my plate.
“What about you Noah?” my mother nodded as she listened to Marissa’s response.
“I like to read, run, draw, take pictures, and watch television,” Noah replied with a shrug.
My mother continued to make small talk, learning about the two people I’ve been spending all of my free time with for the past month and a half or so. Halfway through the conversation, I went to the bathroom. Upon my return, Marissa quickly hopped up and went to the bathroom. I’m guessing she remembered where it was from her last time being here. A loud ringing sounded from the kitchen, causing my mother to grin as she remembered her cupcakes that were in the oven. I stood beside the couch, watching Noah as he ate his pizza. He watched the muted television, even though the news was the only thing on and it wasn’t very interesting. It was just talking about the predictable weather. I awkwardly sat down, picking up my plate.
My mother walked back over after ten long minutes. Marissa came back only two minutes before but did nothing to fix the awkwardness that settled around us like a thick fog. “They’ll be cooled and ready to be frosted in twenty minutes.”
After we ate our cupcakes, Noah and Marissa decided to go. Marissa asked me if I wanted to spend the night and I replied in the negative, urging to hear my mother’s thoughts on Noah, for some odd reason. I watched as Marissa practically ran to the car after telling me that I better give Noah the gift and not punk out. Noah threw out his paper plate in the trashcan near the front door.
My mother disappeared to her room, exhausted from all of the work she did today. I grabbed the bag from under the table and walked over towards him. He turned abruptly, ready to leave before he stopped, glancing down at me. I didn’t realize that he’d practically rammed into me during his turn, so I awkwardly stumbled. He didn’t make a move to catch me and I luckily caught myself.
We stood in the doorway of my house for a good twenty seconds before I spoke up. “I have your gift.”
I held up the bag and he glanced at it, scrutinizing it. “What is it?”
“Open it and you’ll find out,” I told him.
“It’s not going to jump out at me, right?” Noah asked as he looked at it, not yet touching it.
I pushed it forward, pressing the blue bag to his chest. He looked down at it, taking it in his hands gently before opening it. He grabbed one of the items in the bag, holding it out so he could see it. He furrowed his eyebrows as he read the few words on the makeshift cover. The cover is different now that it’s published with an actual company and not just a rough draft. I saw him look at it curiously and I pointed towards the words on the front. “It’s one of the first copies of The Espineli Trilogy. It’s signed by the author and everything. The other two are in the bag, they’re signed, too.”
He glanced up at me before looking down at the book in his hands, his full lips slightly parted. “How did you get this?”
I shrugged. “It was easy.”
His eyes looked over the cover and I waited for him to realize it. This cover was before my mother decided to use her maiden name, so it has Penelope West typed on it rather than Penelope Arrington. Hopefully he makes the connection soon, because it’ll stink if I have to point it out to him. “Easy?”
I nodded. “Very easy.”
He looked up at me, his eyes landing on the space above my head before something clicked. His eyebrows shot up and he looked at the book again before peeking up at me. “Is your mother Penelope Arrington?”
I nodded, making a sound of confirmation. “It’s her maiden name.”
He stared at the book, his fingers tracing the cover before he flipped it open. His blue eyes fell on my mother’s signature and I wanted to grin. He likes it! But I have to be sure before I do my practiced cheer routine. But first, I’ll have to do my stretches and get a good night’s rest. “Do you like it?”
He nodded. “It’s nice.”
“I doubt you’ll say that when you see all of the spelling errors,” I muttered under my breath.
“That makes it better, believe it or not,” he told me.
“Just promise me one thing,” I requested and he nodded as if telling me to continue to speak. “Don’t sell it or anything. It meant a lot to me and I thought it’d be a nice gift to give to you.”
“I would never sell it,” he murmured, “never.”
I stared at him as he looked at the book. Slowly placing it back into the bag, a slow grin made its way onto his face. It caught me off guard; I couldn’t help but smile, too. “I expected you to get me something…crappy, like a movie.”
“I thought you would like it,” I shrugged awkwardly.
He nodded and I stared at his dimples and his smile, committing them to memory. Who knows when I’ll see them next? “Well, I do.”
I nodded, knowing that a normal person would go in for a hug, but I’m not trying to exceed my limits. Besides, it would make him uncomfortable which would make me uncomfortable. An unreciprocated hug is one of the worst feelings ever. “Thanks.”
“Thanks for agreeing to come meet my mom,” I responded and he nodded, shrugging as he slowly backed down the walk of my house.
“Anytime,” he nodded.
“I think you’re just saying that because she’s an author,” I laughed as he continued to back away.
His grin didn’t falter and he shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Noah, do you want to be an author?” I asked him curiously and he shrugged again, blinking slowly as he stared at the ground ahead of him.
“Maybe,” he told me as he turned around and walked towards the car. I fist pumped, earning a grin from Marissa. She noticed the smile on Noah’s face and gave me a thumbs up. I walked into my house, smiling to myself before my mother interrupted me.
“He’s cute.”
<<>><<>>
The following Monday, I entered the school and was practically smacked in the face with Christmas dance decorations. Seniors, the hosts of the dance, stood ready at the front doors, ready to pounce on anyone who enters. I recognized a familiar face as he walked towards me and I instantly froze up. He probably doesn’t recognize me without my makeup and a haze of alcohol in his system. “Would you like to buy a ticket to the dance?”
“Uh, no thanks,” I swallowed at the lump in my throat and he gave me a weird look. I shoved past him, breathing heavily as I rubbed my sweaty hands on my jeans. I made my way towards the girl’s bathroom when I heard someone calling my name.
“Kenna!” I turned around to see Marissa jogging over with a confused look on her face. Once she reached me, she pushed her hair out of her face. “Are you okay?”
I pursed my lips and nodded, even though I knew it wasn’t true. I’m not okay. Marissa saw through my façade and rolled her hands into fists. “Is it something that Noah did? Because I swear to God, I will wring his neck like a dirty rag and—.”
“Spencer,” I answered simply and her eyes fell towards me as I stared at the ground. I shifted under her gaze, trying to melt into the floor.
“That idiot, I should go and beat him to a bloody pulp—.” I grabbed her arm as she went to exit the bathroom. I shook my head.
“No, no, it’s okay. I’m over it. I just didn’t know he went here,” I admitted as the sound of the bell pierced the air.
“Well, I don’t blame you. There are so many students here, which means you probably won’t have to see him again. Besides, this is his last year here, so be grateful of that,” she smiled at me and I just nodded.
“Let’s just go, we’re already late,” I sighed, pushing the bathroom door open. I entered the gym, listening as the coach explained our new unit- which is football. Luckily, it’s not tackle football. I caught him saying that if we want to play tackle football, we can join the school team- which is only for guys, might I add. He didn’t spare a glance at me as I awkwardly walked towards the crowd, standing towards the back.
“Split into two teams while I go get the ball,” coach explained as he jogged towards the storage room, where all of the sports supplies were conveniently placed.
I nervoudly looked around, watching as the usual team captains stood up and chose people to be on their teams. I stood in the back, shifting from foot to foot, waiting until someone’s finger points to me and motions for me to join their team. When the time never came, my eyes drifted upwards from the floor and towards the coach. He was approaching us, staring at me. I was standing between the two groups, waiting to be chosen by the equal teams.
“Coach, we have enough people,” Ronnie explained. He glared at me before crossing his arms. “Actually, we have more than enough.”
“We need one more person,” the coach muttered as he looked around. Almost everyone was participating. I’m guessing the coach explained the importance of participation in this class prior to my arrival. His eyes fell on Noah, who was sitting on the bleachers, looking at his camera. “Noah!”
Noah slowly looked up, raising a curious eyebrow. I heard Ronnie mutter something under his breath. “Oh, look, the two freaks partaking in a fun game of two hand touch football.”
I rolled my hands into fists as I stood there, my arm crossed across my torso. “Come on over! You’re playing in this game; we’re short of one person.”
Noah sighed and I expected him to tell the coach no outright, but he stood up and dusted off the back of his dark jeans. Ronnie made a throaty noise of disgust. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I shot a dark glare at Ronnie, who smirked in surprise. “Do you like him or something?”
“No,” I snapped, my teeth clenched out of anger. My breathing became heavier as I glared at him.
“Look at this; your father and your freaky boyfriend, your two soft spots, huh?” Ronnie snorted in surprise.
Noah was making his way over towards the group of curious but wary eyes. Most of the girls were surprised to see him participate and were probably excited to touch him during the two hand touch game. They’d probably let their hands linger, that thought made me roll my eyes. The guys, on the other hand, looked annoyed. They probably think he’s some unfit loser who can’t make friends, when they don’t realize that he’s pretty fit, as far as I know, and he’s perfectly capable of making friends- he just doesn’t want to.
Ronnie noticed that I wasn’t listening to his comments and he noticed that he was short of one player, meaning he’d have to take one of us. He quickly turned to Victor, giving him a pleading look. “Dude, give me two of your players.”
“What? No—,” Victor began to reply.
“I’ll run the carpool this week. No more having to worry about spilled breakfast in your car,” Ronnie tempted and Victor pursed his lips before nodding and shoving two thin guys towards him. I’m surprised he didn’t hand over two of the girls texting on their phones. Then again, he likes to stare at those two so I shouldn’t be as surprised as I am.
Coach began counting the students before telling me and Noah that we’d be on Vic’s team, a fact that I was already aware of. I was confused as to whether or not I should spark up a conversation with Noah. The cons are that I could be publicly humiliated by trying to talk to someone and being shot down, and the pros are that I can have a conversation with him. I decided that I have nothing to lose, I’d already lost the majority of my dignity when I attacked Ronnie, and the rest of it was floating out and about in the hallways of the school in the places where I’d embarrassed myself previous times.
“Hey,” I whispered. Coach was explaining the rules of the game to my classmates.
“What?” he muttered as he stood beside me. We were towards the back along with the people who didn’t usually play. A few of them glanced in our direction, probably surprised to see us communicating. If they were on time to class, they’d see us talk then, too.
“Why the rude response?” I replied, my hands crossed over my chest.
“You couldn’t just sit out or something?” he murmured with an eye roll.
“You’re overreacting. It’s a game of football. You can catch a ball, right? Right. You can run, right? Right. Can I do any of the two things? Probably not anymore, so you shouldn’t be the one worrying here, okay?”
He scowled, shaking his head. “This game is stupid.”
“And UFC is better?” I snorted.
He put his hand to his chest in mock pain. “Yes, it is way better.”
I rolled my eyes and fended off a smile. “And they say I’m the loser.”
“They say I’m a freak, if it makes you feel any better,” he shrugged.
“They think we’re the freak couple,” I blurted before realizing the words that left my mouth. If I were in a movie, I would place my hands on my mouth instinctively but this isn’t a movie, and I’m not a stupid character. It was totally unnecessary for me to say! He didn’t know anything about it and I could have kept it that way!
“Because someone here likes to start conversations whenever they’re around me,” Noah muttered. I wanted to let out a sigh of relief. It didn’t get awkward like I anticipated.
“That’s what friends do, Noah,” I told him.
“Apparently, it’s what freak couples do too,” he responded.
I shook my head, not knowing how to reply when the two teams broke apart. Noah and I followed Vic towards the opposite side of the gym, where Victor starting splitting people up in two groups of seven. Only one group of seven could be on the field at one time. Because we don’t have eleven people, the actual amount of football players on a field, we had to go with seven. He said that we would get enough rest and would be able to switch out eventually. Noah and I were on the same mini team. He called us group one and group two. He had all of the good people on group one, so as you can tell, Noah and I stand in group two.
“Are you any good at football?” I asked him, surrounded by three girls on their phones.
He shrugged. “I’ve played before, this and soccer.”
I nodded, deciding not to tell him that I used to play and watch football with my father. I was only good at catching, though; I'd always trip over my own feet. I was like the son he never had, but I can assure you that I am a female. “Hopefully, you can lead us to victory.”
“Don’t count on it,” he muttered with a shake of his head.
Group one was on the field, along with one half of Ronnie’s team. We watched the game quietly, wincing when someone fell- which happened twice. Once our team scored a point, or a touchdown (but there was no ball slamming), we switched groups. Victor sent me and Noah a glare that only I caught. I just rolled my eyes in response as I walked towards the field.
Once the ball was out and about, one of the girls, who usually spends her time texting, sent me a terrified look as she held the ball in her hand. All of Ronnie’s teammates were running towards her. She quickly tossed the ball to me, and it wasn’t a steady throw either. I quickly caught it, despite its terrible wobble, and scanned the area. Noah made eye contact with me and I tossed the ball towards him, watching as it soared through the air. I grinned at my handiwork. My father taught me well. I’m glad that he managed to teach me the one sport he was obsessed with while he was alive.
Noah had a look of surprise on his face as he caught the ball in his hands, swerving around the people that stared at him with even more shock written on his face. Quicker than I would’ve expected, he reached the goal. His long legs increased his speed and I was sure that no one could catch him. I couldn’t help but grin as we scored another point. Ronnie and Victor watched with shocked expressions as I high fived Noah, who was smirking, too. At first I was scared he'd leave me hanging but he actually slapped hands with me. We showed them. Our time on the field ended in barely five minutes, whereas group one took ten minutes to score a point, even with the best people on the team. I’m glad that Ronnie has a small brain and used the same tactic as Vic by putting all of the ‘bad’ people on one team.
“Where did you learn to throw like that?” Noah asked as we walked back towards the bleachers. When we sat down, he scooted away from me but I didn’t take offense. Since I’ve known him, I noticed his lack in contact- which was the reason of my surprise when he openly high fived me without running off to bleach his hand afterward.
“My dad taught me a few things about football,” I shrugged as we watched our teammates struggle to make a goal.
We continued to play, practically bludgeoning the opposing team with our double teams. The scared girls would catch the ball, hesitate for a moment, and then toss it towards me. I would throw the ball higher than the other team could reach and watch as Noah caught it and swiftly ran to the goal. When the game ended, I was proud to say that I contributed to my team's win. I walked towards the water fountain, set on getting a drink, when Ronnie decided to dive in front of me. I let out a slow breath. I know better; I know how to control myself now, or at least better than I did before.
“Did you two practice that?” Ronnie snorted with a shake of his head. “You guys probably haven't even kissed yet. You're so manly that you two probably practice football in your freetime," he spoke. When he saw me ignoring him, he scoffed. "Tell me, Kenna, have you ever kissed anyone?
I felt my face burn in anger as I stared at him, earning a smirk on his healed face. “Ah, I’m right, aren’t I?”
I tried to sidestep him and he moved with me childishly. “Can you move?” I snapped.
He snorted in laughter. “You’ve never kissed anyone. How old are you? Sixteen? Seventeen?”
“At least I don’t have an STD,” I snapped and he tilted his head to the side.
“I don’t either. What about your boyfriend? Has he kissed anyone before?” Ronnie asked and I stood still, giving up on trying to bypass him. Not only is he taller than me, but his shoulders are broader than mine.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I scowled as I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Does that thought bother you?” he grinned. “Your boyfriend kissing another girl?”
“He isn’t my boyfriend,” I told him as I clenched my fists while my arms hugged my torso.
“You wish he was, don’t you?” Ronnie smirked. “You’re practically glued to him in the mornings when he’s on the bleachers. Why don’t you just tell him that you like him?”
“Are you scared to tell him? Scared of rejection? Of being told that he doesn’t like you? That he likes another little nobody?” he mocked.
“Leave me alone!” I barked in anger as I stormed away from him, trying to walk over towards the door. I wasn’t as surprised as I should have been when he gripped the back of my shirt. I was yanked backwards and I angrily turned around. “What?”
His smirk widened at my anger. “Are you angry?”
I tried to calm my nerves by breathing in and out deeply but it wasn’t helping. My fist was in a ball at my side while I stared at him. He had yet to let go of the back of my shirt. He had it twisted between his fingers and I had to stand on the tips of my toes in order for my back and stomach not to peek out. My stomach would pour of my shirt if it rode up even the slightest, and that would be extremely embarrassing. I may not be fat, but I’m not skinny either. Instead I stood up, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. “Leave me alone.”
“No,” he snorted as he went to lift me up higher. Times like these, I wish I was taller. I was obviously uncomfortable as I tried to yank down my shirt and stand taller. I’m guessing that Ronnie enjoyed watching me squirm. I wonder where his friend is. “Let me go.”
“No, what are you going to do?” he taunted. I glared at him, connecting my narrowed eyes with his amused ones. Where is the coach? Shouldn't he be helping me?
I raised my fist to hit him in the face when someone captured it in their hand. I tried to look over my shoulder but I was unable to, probably because I was about five inches off of the ground with only a tank top containing my stomach. Thank God that I wore an undershirt today. “Put her down.”
In an instant, I was practically collapsing towards the floor but my fist was still in the unknown person’s hand. I recognized his Supras and automatically knew that it was Noah. I tried to wriggle my right hand free from his but realized that he wasn’t losing his grip. Let’s hope that I can swing just as well with my left.
There is no way I’m letting this idiot get away with what he’s done. I raised my left hand and Ronnie flinched. Ha! The football player flinched away from me! I must be doing something right! Before my hand could make contact, it was being held tightly, restrained like my right hand.
“Let me go,” I snapped as I tried to lunge towards Ronnie, who looked like he was backing up but his feet were planted to the ground. I realized that I was being dragged away. Ronnie disappeared from my gaze as I was turned around and pulled out of the gymnasium. My face was red from embarrassment, but I’ll blame it on anger. The second we stepped out of the gym, Noah dropped my hands quickly as if I’m infected with something that could be passed on through physical contact.
“What is wrong with you?” he barked in a whisper as he tossed my bag towards me. We still have three minutes until the class is supposed to end, and let’s hope that the coach doesn’t notice our absence or else we’ll get in trouble. But where was he when I was being held up by my shirt?
“What do you mean?” I responded. “Was it when I tried to defend myself as I was being lifted off of the ground?”
“Didn’t you already have a weeks’ worth of detention because you couldn’t control your anger?” he retorted.
I narrowed my eyes as my arms crossed over my chest. “I don’t remember telling you.”
“I bet you don’t remember a lot of things, one of them being that week of detention. You would probably get suspended for your flailing fists. As much as I’d like to see Ronnie get beaten to a bloody pulp, you are not in the place to do it, so walk away,” Noah emphasized.
“I tried to walk away,” I mocked, “but he grabbed the back of my shirt and lifted me off of the ground!”
“Just don’t talk to the guy, then,” Noah shrugged.
I glared at him, the only plausible thing to do. “You think I want to?”
“Obviously: You talk to him. You don’t have to talk to someone if you don’t want to,” he remarked.
I probably shouldn’t have interpreted his statement the way I did, but I couldn’t help myself. “So you want to talk to me?”
“Well, there are exceptions, some people don’t let you ignore them,” he wrinkled his nose and I playfully punched his shoulder, forgetting about his abhorrence for physical contact. I wonder if he’s ever kissed anyone. Maybe he’s like me and has never even hugged someone of the opposite gender who isn’t family.
“You’re a liar,” I told him. “You think we’re friends.”
“I don’t,” he scoffed with a shake of his head.
I smirked. “Yes you do! You wouldn’t have dragged me away if you didn’t! And you wouldn’t have touched my hands. You hate physical contact.”
He rolled his eyes at me as the bell rang and the gymnasium doors opened. “Think what you want. I am not your friend, Kennedy.”
<<>><<>>
I was at lunch when Marissa came bouncing over in a yellow sundress. I guess she’s taking advantage of our year round warm weather, aside from the chilly fifties. “Hello Kenna, you are cordially invited to my sleepover.”
“So I’m not forced to attend this one?” I snorted.
“I will tell your mom about your drinking,” she glared.
“Blackmail? That’s pretty low, even for you, Marissa,” I told her as I bit into my pizza.
“It’s this Friday, so you have time to sort out your plans,” she explained.
“Ha, you assume I have plans,” I laughed.
Giving me a flat look, she continued. “Anyway, it’s on Friday and Dana and Chloe are going to be there.”
“Is this the sleepover that Dana was telling me about?” I curiously questioned.
“That depends, what happens at the sleepover?” she sat down.
“Makeover contests, where the losers have to do things like lick feet,” I summed up.
“This is the sleepover, but there will be no feet licking at this time,” she wrinkled her nose.
“I would hope not,” I muttered and she laughed.
“Did anything interesting happen today?” she giggled.
I sent her an odd look. “I have a feeling you already know.”
“Maybe,” she laughed, “I just want to hear your perspective.”
“Nothing really happened; your brother just stopped me from going all UFC on Ronnie,” I explained.
“Wow, you and my brother have totally different views on things,” she smiled.
“So he’s the one that tells you everything? I thought you had a spy in my gym class,” I muttered. She nodded so I continued. “And what did he say about this?”
She smirked. “I’m not telling you, silly.”
"Just like you're not telling me about what Noah said after the gala?" I asked her.
"Yep," she nodded with a grin.
“What a great friend you are,” I rolled my eyes.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you!” she exclaimed loudly, reaching towards her bag and digging around. “You remember Floyd, right? From the gala? My cousin? The only other teenager Noah talks to?”
I groaned aloud. “Of course.”
“Come on, he wasn’t that bad, right?” she shook her head. “He actually likes Noah; they're friends. And he seems to like you. He actually texted me this past weekend to remind me to give you his number.”
Before I could reject it, she handed me a blue post-it note with his name and number scribbled on it. I stared at it before looking up at her. “So?”
“Aren’t you going to text him?” she shrugged.
I awkwardly returned the post-it note. “Not to be rude, but I’m not interested in him.”
“Why not?” she frowned.
“For someone who’s so pro-Koah, you’re pretty adamant about me calling this guy,” I told her, using the ‘ship’ name that she told me last night over the phone. I made up a ‘ship’ name for her and Eric, too: Erissa.
“You’ve finally accepted the ship name,” she grinned, forgetting all about Floyd. “But I think you should call Floyd anyway. You guys would be great friends!”
I sighed. “Okay, fine, but if he starts giving me the creeps, I’m blocking his number.”
“Okay, fine,” Marissa smiled. “But I still support Koah.”
<<>><<>>
‘Hello,’ the simple five lettered word was being sent from my phone to Floyds’ in a matter of seconds.
‘Kenna?’ he responded. I stared at the message.
‘That’s me,’ I sighed as I sent it. So far so good, no creeps.
We continued making small talk and I decided that he was an okay guy. I don’t plan on starting anymore conversations with him but I won’t be ignoring his text messages; I just won’t reply back as fast if it were someone else texting me.
Once I finished up my homework, I couldn’t help but grin at Noah’s act of…kindness today. Technically, he kept me from getting in trouble- even if it kept me from unleashing my anger on Ronnie. “What has got you in such a good mood?” I looked up to see my mother standing in my doorway and I quickly shook my head. “You have that stupid look on your face.”
“Aren’t you, as my mother, supposed to say that I don’t look stupid and that I’m always beautiful?” I questioned.
She rolled her eyes. “Whether or not I’m your mother, I think you’re gorgeous. But the look on your face reminds me of mine when I first met your father.”
I awkwardly nodded. “Well, I just passed my American literature test, so I’m pretty happy about that.”
“Yeah, I totally believe you,” she rolled her eyes. “Now what did Noah do?”
“Why is everything about Noah? I swear my life revolves around that boy! If it’s not Marissa demanding that I tell her everything that involves Noah, it’s you! If it’s not you, it’s Ronnie! If it’s not Ronnie, it’s Dana! If it isn’t Dana, it’s Chloe!” I exclaimed with irritation. “Maybe I’m not happy about Noah; maybe I’m happy because I passed a test, okay?”
My mother rolled her eyes. “Honey, I want to say this in the nicest way possible but you have got to get a grip! You like this boy, anyone with eyes can see it! The sooner you accept it; the sooner you can get a boyfriend; the sooner you can get over your fear of hugging guys.”
“First of all, I do not have a fear of hugging guys! And secondly, I do not like Noah!” I told her, crossing my arms. “I just know what it feels like to be alone and to be called a freak, and I know that no one, not even the Grinch Noah, deserves to feel like that.”
My mother gave me a half smile and I knew that there was a lecture that follows her next few words. “You want to fix this boy, don’t you?”
“What? No! I’m perfectly content with Noah the way he is,” I told her. “He just swears a lot, but he’s been keeping it under control, or at least around me—.”
“You’re babbling, honey,” my mother sighed. “But you can’t fix everyone, no matter how much you want to, you just can’t. And sometimes, you’ll just get hurt trying to fix someone, so keep that in mind.”
Before I could respond, my mother got up and shut my door. I stared at the wooden panels with knitted eyebrows. What is she talking about? I don't want to fix Noah. Does she ever listen?