Page 18 of My Fault
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 othergirl 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.
