Page 111 of Man On

Trying to toss Noah off of me, I call out after her and try to follow, but I'm also completely naked with the sheet wrapped around one of my ankles. I think I hear a sob on her way up, but I hope I'm wrong.

Oh God, what have I done?

"What's happening?" Noah asks.

"You were supposed to go back to your own room before anyone wakes up!" I hiss, scrambling to pull on a pair of pants.

"I was!" he whisper-yells back. "But as soon as I tried to get up, you pulled me back down and asked me to stay!"

"I was asleep!"

"So was I, you dickhead!"

"Yeah, well, guess what my mom walked in on?"

His eyes are wide, but he shakes his head. "We were just sleeping, that doesn't mean anything."

"You were butt naked and sprawled out on top of me when she came in."

Noah's face falls. "Dude, did your mom see my junk?"

"And mine," I tell him.

Suddenly depleted of any peace I'd woken up with, I plop down on the edge of the bed and put my head in my hands. "I'm going to be sick."

"Hey, hey, hey," Noah placates me, scrambling to kneel in front of me. "It's going to be alright. They were going to find out eventually. I know you wanted to wait until everything died down, but maybe this is a good thing. We're getting everything out in the open today, yeah?"

My glare must convey how little I appreciate his silver linings bullshit right now, but he doesn't back down. He's rubbing my arms and telling me it's going to be alright, but his voice sounds so far away. I'm watching his mouth say the words, and I'm not sure what else, because a loud ringing fills my ears. I think he's saying my name, shaking me by the shoulders. My eyes flutter shut, and I feel like I'm fighting off sleep.

She's going to kick me out. Disown me. Tell me she's disgusted.

Sickness. Weak. Abomination. I forgot how loud the voices can be. “Sin is infectious, Isaiah.”

And then everything comes back, assaulting my senses all at once. Noah's lips are on mine, pressing hard. My fingertips are digging into his waist, probably leaving marks. I pull back and blink rapidly.

"Look at me, Lane," Noah says, standing over me and holding my face in his hands. "Nothing has changed. You're still you, and I'm still me, and we're together in this, okay?"

"What if she—" I choke on the words, vomit rising in my throat. I have to push Noah out of my way to make it to the bathroom in time to heave up whatever is left from last night's dinner. Noah follows and crouches behind me, rubbing my back in soothing circles. "What if she hates me?" I say, my words echoing in the bowl.

"She doesn't."

"How do you know?"

"Because she's a good mom, Lane. She loves you. She loves us. They might need some time to come around, but they will."

"And if they don't?"

"Then fuck 'em," he says bluntly. "We don't need anyone but each other."

Wiping my mouth, I lean back, finding Noah's body behind me instead of the wall. I settle back against his chest, and he wraps his arms around me from behind. His long legs are sprawled out on either side of me. We stay like that until we hear movement upstairs and remember we have to face the firing squad.

Noah pulls my chin to look at him. "Why don't you take a shower and get dressed, and I'll talk to them first, okay?" He leans in for a kiss, but I pull back. He smirks, and I'm reminded of the first month of our strange relationship.

"Gross, don't kiss me. My mouth tastes awful."

He shakes his head. "You still just don't get it, do you?"

"Noah…"

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