Page 35 of The Fallen
We went to the farm and set up the cameras, but, regardless of the worry about Lewis still being there and the constancy of all this, I wasn't thinking about anything but The Benthill place and what happened.
Noah kissed me.
I kissed him back.
And it was nothing like when I’ve been kissed before.
Possessive and controlling, but slow, like he was taking his time – gentle, even. I melted like an ice cube on a summer day, right into a puddle, and now feelings are mixing with my already complicated thoughts. It’s overwhelming.
This is meant to be easy – sex for help. I can endure an act with the idea that I’ll be able to bring Lewis to justice and repair the faith my family has in me. But that kiss wasn’t just a transaction. It pulled at my damaged heart, gave me a reason to feel connected to him through our mutual betrayals. But my heart's so broken right now that I’m terrified of anything I might feel. I can’t deny that I am interested in him, though, and not just for the obvious reasons of his broodiness and good looks. That’s never been something I’ve been taken with in men before, but he’s like an equation that doesn’t add up, and I want to understand him.
I think.
Lewis preyed on my vulnerability. He took me in, pretending that we had an affinity, a friendship. What if this is just part of Noah’s act? He’s clearly using me for sex - why not throw in a bit of emotional turmoil, too.
No. I won’t let a man do that to me again.
But then, nobody has ever kissed me like he did.
Surely that means something?
I continue to stare out of the window on the way back to his farm, watching the scenery pass in a blur that feels like every aspect of my life right now. Is it so bad to want a little good? Call me crazy, or stupid, or both, but maybe what I saw when Noah was talking to me was a real glimpse of him – something I’m positive he’d never show to others.
His brother’s story … God, at least I know that he's fundamentally a good person. Betraying your family is a decision that you carry for life. And it’s precisely how I’m feeling now. Is that why he shared? Because he sees similarities between us?
“Why don’t we stop and grab something to eat? It’s been a long day,” I suggest. The silence is pulling at my nerves. It’s deafening, and I’m fighting too many questions and thoughts ringing in my head.
“We should just get home. It’s been a waste if you ask me.”
“You got to see your brother,” I offer, hoping he’ll see that as a positive. It might have only been from a distance, but it’s suddenly so important to me that Noah doesn’t see what he shared as a mistake. No response, though.
I try another tack with logic. “Do you have food at home?” There’s barely anything in his fridge, and if we want to eat, we’ll have to get supplies somewhere.
“Fine.” He sounds less than pleased with the arrangement, but I smile anyway.
The rest of the journey feels a little more relaxed, and I wait with anticipation about what he will do about food. He could pull into a drive-through, and we'll eat in the car again, but that isn’t what I’m hoping for.
Finally, he drives into the car park of a large country pub on the side of the road. Oak beams, neat paintwork and two olive trees guarding the entrance tell me this is a nice place. We get out to wander down the short path, and he holds the door open for me as I walk through and wait at the bar.
“Table for two,” Noah states to the guy pulling a pint further down the gleaming bartop.
“Sure. Help yourself to a free table in the restaurant.” He nods his head towards an open archway that leads to a different section of the pub.
Noah stalks off and takes a table in the far corner before I can catch up. He’s away from the handful of other diners, and I tell myself it’s because he’s private and aloof rather than wanting to be alone.
The small candle flickers in its glasshouse and casts a glow over the table. Although the lighting in here is dim – I’m sure to create a certain ambience – I can still see Noah’s brows pulled close together. It seems to be his usual expression.
Does he ever really smile? A big, wide grin that's happy? I try to picture it in my mind, but only manage to conjure him all wet and shirtless. Very appealing, but all of him, and smiling … he’d be devastating. Still, I've had small glimmers of the possibility of one. Small, but they've been there.
I fiddle with the thick paper menu and shift in my seat, trying to move my focus away from images of the man sitting in front of me and what things could be like. That’s a dangerous game to play. My eyes run over the choices as my stomach wakes up.
“Ready to order?” Noah asks.
We’ve hardly had time to read the starters.
“Umm, I’m sure they’ll come to the table for our order.” I look up and catch his eyes and try for a small smile.
“I don’t want to be here longer than we have to be.”
