CHAPTER 21

[ Noah ]

Sleep came easy, especially after I had been sobbing profusely for hours. Sleep was meant to be my getaway, my save haven, but it quickly became a nightmare full of all those horrible realities that I was so desperately trying to escape.

I was being submerged in that horrible situation again—that situation where I had stormed out of the football stadium to clear my head, to think, to not buy into the rumors about me being used for sex. It came out of nowhere; all I was capable of registering was the sharp sting searing through my skull and the all the pain that followed. It was everywhere—my stomach, my legs, my chest. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, a blow to my head knocked me onto my side and I caught a glimpse of him. He was wearing a ski mask, like burglars do, but his eyes were unforgettable, a colorless grey. They were so strikingly familiar.

I jumped in my sleep when I felt a hand touch one of the bruises forming along my collarbone. It took a moment to properly assess my new surroundings, but when I did, memories of Michael carrying me to his car resurfaced. "D-don't," I choked out as I leaned away from him. It hurt to speak. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe.

Michael nodded toward the windshield, bringing my attention to the view of my home right ahead of us. "We're here." I watched as he pulled his keys free from the ignition and leaned back into his seat. "Do you want me to carry you?"

Mentally scoffing at that notion, I tried my best to prop open the passenger door. I was slow in my movements, but I was determined to be strong for just a few minutes until I could get through the inevitable confrontation with my parents.

Unfortunately, my feet failed me when I tried to step out of the car, and I ended up collapsing to the asphalt. Within seconds, Michael was at my side, helping me to my feet by forcing my arm around his neck for support, while simultaneously holding onto my waist to guide my limping steps to the front door. I didn't want him to touch me, not after all those things he had said about me, but I was in too much pain to protest.

The door swung open only seconds after Michael rang the doorbell. Poppa was on the other side of the threshold, wearing nothing but a pair of loose fitting sweatpants and slip-on moccasins, which seemed to be his go-to wardrobe whenever he watched baseball. As soon as his pale blue eyes landed on me, his mouth fell agape. "Noah, what the hell happened?"

Michael understood that talking was a hard point for me, so he spoke, instead, "Someone attacked him."

Poppa's reaction was somewhat delayed. It was almost like he was trying to process the news while also trying to process how Dad was going to react. "Fuck," he cursed under his breath as he propped the door open with his foot and helped me inside. "Are you okay? Are you—" That was when he really noticed the extent of my injuries, "—shit, your face."

I wanted to tell him that it actually felt worse than it looked, but Dad came strolling into the main foyer to join the commotion with a bowl of popcorn nestled in the crook of his arm. When he saw me, his entire body froze over, allowing the bowl to fall to the floor, shattering into pieces. Before I could blink, he was already maneuvering around Poppa and taking me in his arms. "What happened!"

Poppa stepped out of his way and looked to Michael, as though expecting him to be the bearer of bad news.

"He was attacked in the school parking lot," Michael replied with a hint of reluctance in his voice.

"What!" Dad screamed. "By who!"

Michael shrugged. "I don't know. I found him after it happened. He says he doesn't know either, that the attacker was wearing a mask."

I saw Dad's eyes go wide. This usually meant that a panic attack was sure to follow. I really didn't want to be the cause of another panic attack, so I clutched onto him tighter and buried my head into the crook of his neck, so that he would have no choice but to stay composed for me. He entangled his fingers in my curls and kissed the top of my head. "It's okay, Noah. Daddy's here."

Poppa cleared his throat and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "We have to take him to a hospital to get him checked out."

"N-no!" I blurted out, finally finding the words to profess my innate fear of being treated. "Please no hospitals."

Dad nodded his head, understanding. He wiped away the tears escaping from my eyes and held me closer. "Okay, baby. No hospitals." He craned his neck slightly to get a good look at Poppa. "Can you get your friend to do a house call?" Poppa nodded promptly and scurried into the kitchen.

We were left in silence for a moment with Dad stroking my hair and hugging me so tightly like he was scared to let me go. It felt so comfortable to be in his embrace, to hug him like this. If anything, it made the pain dwindle away for just a moment. I'm sure if Poppa were to join this hug, I would be overwhelmed with so much joy that I couldn't possibly feel any pain.

"Who are you?" Dad asked suddenly. The question was directed at Michael, who seemed a bit unprepared for that kind of confrontation.

"Me?" he questioned. "Um, I'm Michael. We met a couple weeks back."

"I know who you are," Dad spat in contempt, "but I want to know why you're still here. I'm grateful that you've returned my son to me, so you may go now."

Michael's blond eyebrows twisted together in confusion. "No, I'm not leaving. I'm not going anywhere until I know he's okay and until I know who did this to him."

I could feel him get tense. "You're not needed."

"The fuck?" Michael was irritated now. "I'm his boyfriend. How the hell am I not needed?"

Now that Dad's focus was trained on Michael, his grip on me loosened. "Noah isn't allowed to have a boyfriend," he said simply, "so your statement means nothing to me. Get out of my house."

Michael found this funny. He ran a hand through his already-disheveled light blond hair, and then he chuckled softly to himself. "Why are you such a pissy parent? Noah's sixteen, for god's sake. You plan on ruling his life forever?"

"It appears that I have to, since I can't count on you, or anyone else, to prevent this from happening!" Dad fired back; his voice was rising to abnormal levels, now. It vibrated through my eardrums, causing my already-bad headache to worsen.

"I d-don't want him to l-leave," I managed to say between short breaths. When I heard word that Michael was only using me for sex, I wanted nothing to do with him. But now that he had the courage to stand up to my father and refuse to leave my side, I figured those rumors were just that.

Dad looked me over with those heavy brown eyes of his that always held some touch of concern for me. He didn't directly respond to my request, but he helped me to my feet and led me to the living room so that I could rest on the sofa. "I'll make you some tea, okay? Then we'll wait for your father's friend to come and check you out." I gave him a short nod and watched him disappear into the hallway that led to the kitchen.

Then my gaze flicked to Michael who had just entered the room. He sat onto the seat across from me, being careful to keep his distance. "If Nicolas did this, I swear..." I raised an eyebrow, hinting for him to continue, "...he openly expressed his disapproval of our, um, relationship."

My gaze dropped to my finger, which looked oddly crooked. "Greg told me that he wanted me to die in a fire," I said, "maybe he h-hates me enough to ... hurt me."

Michael sat back in his seat and kicked his legs onto the ottoman. He smiled. "Greg doesn't hate you, dude. Trust me, I'm an expert at reading people. The kid has a massive crush on you—he just doesn't know how to deal with his feelings."

I shook my head because I refused to believe what he was saying. How could someone publicly humiliate and insult another person if they had romantic feelings towards them? This wasn't kindergarten and stealing someone's crayons didn't equate to love. Greg hated me and he hated my parents. He didn't want me to be in the play in the first placed, so I'm sure he could've done anything to jeopardize my role, but I didn't voice my opinion aloud. I wanted to endure the silence a little longer.

But staying silent seemed to have its consequences because I could distinctly hear my parents' voices from the kitchen. They were trying to have a silent argument so that they wouldn't disturb me, but I heard them anyway. "I knew this would happen, Ian!" I heard Dad say. "You kept saying I was being too protective and then shit like this happens! He can't go through what I did, Ian. People are going to keep hurting him. Can you imagine what'll happen when he goes to college? I can't deal with that."

"Jay, it's one incident," Poppa joined in, playing his usual role as the voice of reason. "I'm just as angry as you are and whoever did this to him is gonna pay, but you can't define the future over one incident. That's one-way thinking."

For some reason, I imagined Dad rolling his eyes. "It can only get worse from here."

I tuned out of the conversation in an effort to prevent myself from hearing something I wasn't supposed to hear. My attention settled on Michael who had surprisingly moved closer to me, kneeling beside the sofa. "Wanna know something?"

I nodded slowly.

"If our situations were reversed, I'd have such a raging boner right now."

A laugh threatened to rip from my lips, but I pushed it down. "That's not funny."

He smirked. "It's a little funny."

"Not really." Michael could probably tell that I was fighting a laugh because he broke into a teasing grin as he closed the gap between us to plant a soft kiss on my lips. The contact burned for a bit, but it succeeded in relaxing my muscles. "That hurt."

"That's what she said," Michael delivered with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes at him and tried my best to repress another laugh. "You're horrible."

Michael's smile faded away the second I spoke; I feared that something I said made him upset. "Derek's horrible. He's the one who started the rumors at school, that I was taking advantage of you, or some shit like that."

"Why?"

His clear eyes met mine for a brief moment before they dropped to the floor again. "I don't know," he said with a shrug. "I don't know why Derek does half the things that he does. I'll have to find a way to clear my name after this whole thing blows over."

Not knowing what to say, I crossed my arms over my chest and hugged myself. My gaze caught sight of the dark stain on my shirt and my lips slowly pulled into a frown the more I looked at it. All of a sudden, a new, yet smaller, stain formed on my shirt. It took me a while to notice that my nose had just started to bleed. I straightened my posture in preparation to wipe away the blood with the back of my hand, but Michael stepped up to the occasion when he slipped his jersey over his head and held it up to my nose.

"I got it," he told me, and that made me smile. "So why didn't you want to go to the hospital?"

"Doctors scare me."

"Why?"

"I had a lot of medical problems as a kid, so I was always in and out of the hospital. I was this close—" I held up two fingers, my index and my thumb, to illustrate my point, "—to dying, or at least that's what my parents say. They also told me that my real parents were crackheads—I guess that's why they didn't want me." It was becoming easier to speak, I noted.

Michael nodded. "Can't imagine why, though. You're way too cute." I was in pain, but somehow, his comment made my cheeks hot. "I probably won't ever get another chance to say that again because I think your dad hates me."

"Yeah," I agreed.

His eyes widened in disbelief. "Hey, you're supposed to reassure me that he doesn't."

"I'm not in the mood to lie," I retorted with what I hoped was a mocking smirk, but with how much it hurt to pull my face muscles, I'm sure it was actually a grimace.

Silence endured for quite some time after that. When my parents reentered the room, Poppa's friend from college, Doreen, joined them. I didn't know much about Doreen, only that she was a doctor and she had always been kind enough to do at-home treatments on me. The entire time, I had to hold Dad's hand (a habit of mine) as Doreen examined my injuries and treated them accordingly. Then, after it was all over and done, she advised that I get some rest, so I had to say my goodbyes to Michael.

"I'll see you at school," Michael told me as he rose to his feet and clutched his now blood-stained-jersey onto his bare chest. "Have a good night, Mister and, uh, Mister Taylor." He avoided making eye contact with my dad, sent me a quick smile, and then he strolled out of the living room to the exit.

Dad waited until we all heard the door close to speak. "I do not like that boy."

Poppa scoffed. "There's nothing wrong with him."

"Yeah, sure, other than the fact that he allowed our son to get hurt. If it hadn't been for him, Noah wouldn't have been at that stupid soccer game," Dad countered with a thick amount of anger in his voice. Even after all this, how could he still be angry? He was supposed to hold me tight and be grateful that I was alive, not chastise Michael for something he didn't do, but I couldn't find it in myself to speak up about it.

Poppa sighed heavily while running a hand through his black hair. "Well, I think we all need to call it a night. Am I taking the couch tonight?"

Dad had taken the opportunity to crouch beside me, as though he expected to find something wrong with me by being so close. "No, you're sleeping in our bed," he stated without turning to face him. "I'll be there in a sec. Lemme just put Noah to bed, 'kay?"

Poppa looked at me. We locked eyes for a mere second and I could tell that he was silently sympathizing with me, but we both knew he wouldn't tell Dad to stop because he wanted to get in his good graces again. "Alright, good night Noah. I love you."

"I love you, too," I called out, following his movement until he disappeared out of my line of sight. Sighing in defeat, I shifted uncomfortably in my current sprawled-out position on the sofa and brought my full attention to Dad, who continued to stare me down. "What is it?"

"Are you sure you want to sleep here?" Dad questioned, his brows pulled together in worry; I really wished he would stop worrying. "I can carry you to your room, if you'd like."

"I've been carried enough for one day," I chuckled softly. "I'm okay here."

"Do you want anything?" he continued to press. "I can read you a bedtime story."

"Dad," I scolded, shutting my eyes for a moment to stress that none of this was necessary. "I'm sixteen."

His countenance softened at that statement and it was followed by a small smile. "Yeah, but you'll always be my little monkey." He brushed my hair away from my face with his fingers and planted a chaste kiss on my forehead before he stood to his full height."Good night. I'll see you in the morning."

I nodded. "Go to bed, Dad. Poppa's waiting for you."

Color rushed to his cheeks, but he spun around quickly so that I wouldn't see. He waltzed over to the lamp on the end table and switched it off. Darkness engulfed my vision and the only thing I was left to rely on was Dad's footsteps as he ascended the staircase and eventually slipped into his bedroom. A smile came to my lips when I thought about my parents getting it on last night, and then I settled in for sleep.

Even though I had just been attacked only a few hours earlier, I couldn't have felt any happier knowing that Michael actually liked me, and that my parents were giving it another try.

That was all I could ever ask for.

*       *       *

Doreen warned against going to school the next day, but I really wanted to see Michael again. Of course, when Dad asked why I was so eager to go to school, I made up a lie about needing to retake a test that I didn't do so well on. He fell for my miserable lie because he knew that I took my school work seriously and that I was always looking for ways to improve my grades, but the only way he would let me go to school was if I allowed him to take me to and from school. I had no choice but to agree.

I had expected to be the talk of the school once I entered through the main doors, but it appeared that I was, for the most part, still a loser lurking in the shadows.

Holly was the first person to talk to me, like usual. When she started to question and inquire about what happened to me, I had to retell yesterday's events in great detail since Holly lived for details and specifics. Then she swore to me that she would get to the bottom of this, and I believed her because Holly had a tendency to solve things that didn't need solving. Nevertheless, I gave her a nod of support and continued my day.

Another false expectation I had for today's events was that there wouldn't be any drama. Because the universe was obviously against me, I felt someone shove me against my locker, rather roughly, and I didn't need to look up to know who it was.

"Hey, why weren't you at—holy shit, what happened to your face?"

I lifted my gaze from the stack of books in my hands to look into Greg's grey eyes. The same grey eyes from last night were looking directly at me, but the bearer of those eyes looked genuinely surprised and shocked to see my battered and bruised face. Way to play dumb. "You know exactly what happened," I mumbled miserably.

Greg rolled his eyes like he was irritated with my response. "Uh, no, then I wouldn't have asked."

I didn't like feeling like this. I didn't like feeling like Greg had this weird control over me. He hurt me, he knows he did, so why was he making it worse by pretending not to know?

"Whatever." Once I had finished gathering my books, I closed my locker and started to walk away. This morning at breakfast, I heard Poppa mention getting the police involved. I didn't like Greg any more than he liked me, but I never wanted to see him behind bars. In this very moment, though, I wanted a lot of horrible things to happen to him.

Greg caught up to me, despite the fact that I had made it clear that I didn't want to talk to him. "Anyway, Mr. CJ says we're gonna get the song lyrics today. During free period, we should practice our duet."

"I'm not doing the play anymore."

"What?" He nudged my shoulder. "Why the hell not?"

"Why does it matter?" I retaliated, finally bringing my attention to him. "You don't want me in the play."

"Well, yeah, I don't..." I started to shake my head in disbelief in which he responded with, "...but you are, so you can't just quit! You're a lead character. We've already gotten this far and if you fuck this up for me, I swear—"

"Mary's my understudy," I said, "I'm sure she'll do a great job as Belle."

"Noah," he called out. It was the first time he had ever addressed me by my actual name. It was almost funny how he was trying so hard to act like he didn't attack me. He was one hell of an actor, I'd give him that.

"Stop!" I fired at him. "Just stop, okay? I know how you feel about me. I really wish you'd stop acting like I'm not stupid. I'm not."

His brows knitted together, resembling a dark line. "You know?"

"Of course I know!" If I spoke any louder, I'm sure I would've strained my vocal chords. "You make it so damn obvious!"

I thought it wasn't possible for him to look even more confused than he did. "I do?" he asked, but it sounded more like he was asking himself rather than me.

"Ugh," I groaned loudly. "Stop playing dumb! I know everything, Greg!"

He flinched at my words. "Are you mad?"

"Of course I'm mad!" How could he think that I wouldn't be mad when he was the one who beat me up, leaving me in such a vulnerable state? Poppa was right when he said that Greg and his family had mental problems. "There's other ways of expressing your feelings, Greg, instead of just attacking me with—"

I wasn't able to finish my sentence because Greg grabbed onto my shoulders and crashed his lips on mine.

**

a/n: Whoa, guys. This was quite the emotional chapter. My fingers hurt from typing this on my phone, but it's worth the sacrifice. I think this is my fave chapter yet because it has family, lovey-doveyness, drama, and, of course, a cliffhanger!

The question that I think you all know I'm gonna ask is ... why is Mike always right? Who would've thought that Greg had a crush on Noah? It came as news to me! (I say that with a giant smirk on my face)

So if you enjoyed this wonderful roller coaster of a chapter, then why don't you leave a comment and a vote?

Until next time,
Lara <3