“Shit!”
“What the hell did you give her?” I asked the dickhead I was holding by the collar.
I could see the terror in his eyes.
“Answer me!” I shouted, cursing the day I’d ever met my stepsister, cursing that moron Zack Rogers for bringing her to a party like this.
“Jesus, dude!” The guy’s eyes were like saucers. “Burundanga, okay!” he admitted when I slammed him into the wall.
Jesus. A date rape drug. It was colorless and odorless and easy to slip into a drink without a person realizing it.
Just thinking about what could have happened clouded my mind, and I couldn’t control myself. What kind of dirtbag would do that to a girl? When I finished with him, you wouldn’t be able to identify him from his license photo. My hands were going to look like hamburger by the time the night was over.
I lost count of how many times I hit him.
“Nicholas, stop!” a voice behind me shouted. I stopped my hand before it slammed back into that bastard’s face.
“Bring that shit to another one of my parties and this is going to look compassionate compared to what happens next time,” I threatened him, making sure he’d heard every word. “Understand?”
He stumbled off, bleeding, trying to get as far from me as possible, and I turned back around to find Noah terrified.
Something shifted inside me when I saw her expression. I couldn’t stand her, I could happily have wrung her neck, but, dammit, no one deserved to be drugged without their consent. By the look on her face, I could tell this night had taken Noah past her limits.
I tried to talk myself down, observing her as I walked over slowly. When I was close, she started walking backward, mouth ajar, frighted and trembling.
“Jesus, Noah, I’m not going to hurt you, okay?” I said. I felt like a criminal, and I hadn’t even done anything.
When I left her, I just assumed she’d call her mom and she and my dad would pick her up and take her back home. I never thought she’d climb into the car of the first idiot who came along and show up at a party absolutely unsuited to a girl her age.
“What did he give me?” she asked, looking at me like I was a demon.
I sighed and looked up, trying to put my thoughts in order. My father had just called to ask where the hell Noah was. Her mother was worried, so I said I’d call her right back. I told him Noah was with me, at Miles’s house, and we were watching a movie with his sister.
It was a lie, made up on the spot, but my father could never know what had happened tonight or where. I’d gotten out of too many bad situations for him to learn that nothing had actually changed. It had been hard for me to keep my private life under wraps, and I sure wasn’t going to let someone like Noah spoil it.
It hadn’t even been a day, and she’d managed to be a bigger pain in my ass than any woman I’d ever had the pleasure of meeting.
“You all right?” I asked, ignoring her question.
“I want to kill you,” she answered. I could see her eyelids were drooping. I needed to get her on the phone with her mom ASAP before the situation got worse.
“Yeah, let’s take a rain check on that,” I said, grabbing her arm. “You’ll be all right. Try to relax.”
When we reached my car, I opened the passenger-side door and waited for her to sit down. Then I took out my phone.
“You need to tell your mother you’re fine and not to stay up for you,” I said, looking for Dad’s number in my contacts. “Tell her we’re watching a movie at some friend’s place.”
“Up yours,” she said, head lolling back, shutting her eyes.
I grabbed her face and opened her eyes. She looked me with such hatred I wanted to find something I could kick, break, and shatter into a million pieces.
“Call her or this is going to get ugly for real,” I said, imagining what might happen if my father found out what had happened tonight. Not to mention Noah’s mother.
“What are you going to do to me?” she said, her pupils getting more dilated. “Leave me behind so someone can rape me? Wait…you already did that once.”
I get it—I deserved that—but there was no time for sarcasm.
“I’m dialing her now. If you’re smart, you’ll tell her what I said.”
A few seconds later, I heard Raffaella’s voice on the other line.
“Noah, are you okay?”
She looked at me before responding.
“Yeah,” she answered, to my relief, “we’re watching a movie. We’ll be home a little late.” Her eyes turned up toward the roof of the car.
“I’m so glad you went, sweetie. You’ll love Nick’s friends, just wait…”
I looked aside when I heard that.
“For sure,” Noah said.
“See you tomorrow, babe. I love you.”
“You too. Bye.”
I took the phone and slipped it into my pocket.
I walked around to the driver’s side. We’d have to wait there and see how good Noah’s tolerance for drugs was.
“I’m hot,” she said, eyes closed, and I could tell—sweat covered her forehead and neck.
“It’ll pass. Don’t let it worry you,” I told her, hoping my words wouldn’t betray me.
“What are the effects of this stuff?” Her voice was groggy.
“Sweating, fever and chills. It makes you tired,” I said, hoping that was it.
If she started vomiting or her heart beat too fast, I’d have to take her to the hospital, and that wouldn’t end well.
Her cheeks were red, and her hair was sticking to her forehead. I noticed she had a hair band around one of her wrists. I leaned over her and took it off. The least I could do was help her be as comfortable as possible.
“What are you doing?” she asked, very clearly scared.
I breathed deep, trying to keep my emotions in check. I’d never done anything out of line with a woman, and seeing how terrified Noah was that I would was like a kick in the balls.
I’d only known the girl for a few hours, and she was already wearing me out.
“I’m helping you,” I said, pulling her long, colorful hair back into a sloppy ponytail on top of her head.
“To do that, you’d have to disappear,” she slurred.
I couldn’t help but chuckle. She had guts, more than any other girl I’d ever met. She didn’t know whom she was playing with, didn’t know who I was or what I was capable of, but that was refreshing somehow.
I thought of the look she had just after punching me. It had been completely unexpected—the first time anyone had punched me in forever.
Instinctively, I grabbed her right hand and looked at her swollen knuckles. It must have taken all the strength she had to leave her hand looking like that. I felt bad for her. I had a vision of myself teaching Noah to throw a punch the right way.
She was worrying me. Now that her hair wasn’t covering her face, I noticed certain traits that had escaped me before. Her neck was pretty, her cheekbones high with their irresistible dusting of freckles. That made me grin for some reason. Her eyelashes were long and cast shadows on her cheeks, but the thing that really caught my eye was that little tattoo just under her left ear.
It was a knot, a figure eight.
I looked at my own arm, where I’d gotten that same tattoo three and a half years before. It was a perfect knot, one that wouldn’t give out easily, and that’s why I’d chosen it. It meant that if things came together right, if you used your head, the result could be indestructible. I didn’t understand how she could have that tattoo or anything else actually—it clashed with the image I’d created of her in my mind.
I ran a finger carefully over that tattoo, so tiny compared to mine, and felt how both of us got goose bumps. Noah twitched unconsciously, and I felt something strange, uncomfortable, in the pit of my stomach.
I threw on my seat belt, grabbed the wheel, put the car in gear, and looked back at her tattoo before focusing on the road. Luckily I’d only had time for one beer and one shot, so I was able to drive home with peace of mind.
The outside lights were on as always. It was incredibly late, and I prayed our parents were in bed. Noah was out of commission, and I couldn’t let Dad catch us.
I parked in my space and got out, trying not to make noise. I carefully unbuckled Noah’s seat belt and took her in my arms. She was burning up. I was worried her fever might turn dangerous.
“Where are we?” she asked in a voice I could barely hear.
“Home,” I said to calm her down, turning so I could open the door without disturbing her.
Inside it was totally dark except for the faint light of a table lamp in the living room. No sooner had Raffaella moved there than she’d gotten obsessed with leaving a light or two on at night.
It was strange to me that Noah was still conscious, and I rushed her to her bed so I could leave her there more comfortable.
“No,” she said, frightened.
“Easy now,” I said, astonished at how tightly she was holding me.
“Don’t leave me alone. I’m scared.” There was panic in her voice. It was weird because I was sure I was the one who had scared her and I couldn’t imagine why she’d want to stay with me.
“Noah, this is your room,” I said, sitting on her bed and holding her in my lap.
She opened her eyes, and I saw terror in them.
“The light,” she muttered as if she were hardly capable of pronouncing the words.
It was weird. There wasn’t any light on.
“Turn it on,” she almost begged.
I observed her a few seconds before realizing that what scared her wasn’t that I was in her room or the drugs or the fact that she could barely move; it was the darkness.
“You’re scared of the dark?” I asked, leaning over her and turning on the lamp on her nightstand.
Her body instantly relaxed.
I raised an eyebrow, asking myself how this chick could be so complicated. I got up, arranged her against the pillows, and then stood there a moment, making sure her breathing was normal. It was. Noah was a strong girl.
“Get out of my room,” she commanded me, and I did.
I think it was the sanest thing I did all night.
