I slowly stir awake, blasting sounds coming from my alarm, getting louder and louder as I become more conscious. I groan covering my head with a pillow, but I can still hear the muffled blaring as I blindly hit my bedside table, trying to shut the damn thing off.
7 am.
If there is something I hate in this world, it is seeing that little number displayed on the screen of my phone when I'm forced to wake up in the morning, the brightness of the screen practically burning off my corneas.
I'm the complete opposite of a morning person, a night owl from birth. My mom always tells me that my first eleven months of my life were a nightmare for her and my dad. I'd sleep peacefully during the day and cry all through the night, keeping them sleep-deprived and in a zombified state. It appears my ways haven't changed much since then, I usually don't get tired until the early hours of the morning, unless I've been out drinking. During the day my energy tends to be lower, and if I rest my head anywhere for more than a millisecond, I'll instantly fall asleep. But at night all the lights in my brain come on and I feel as energized as if I had been chugging gallons of a mixture of coffee and Redbull. It's the time in which I'm the most creative and productive, a stream of ideas constantly rushing through my mind as I try to sleep, forcing me to pick up my phone and take down notes of the random things I come up with. It doesn't really help when I go to sleep at four am and have to wake up at seven to go to school. Hence my hatred towards my alarm and mornings in general.
Just a few more months and my suffering will be over. I can't believe I'm so close to graduating, and I'm itching for high school to finally be over, but at the same time, I'm terrified of what comes next. Shaking my head, I tuck that thought right back into its confined place in my mind where it rarely gets any attention.
I let out a yawn as I finally get off my bed, taking my sweet time stretching before I head towards the bathroom. The ceramic tiles are cold against my bare feet when I go in to turn on the shower. I look in the mirror and almost jump back, startled by my own reflection. My hair is a tangled mess, my skin looks grayish, and the circles under my eyes are darker than Johnny Depp's in Dark Shadows.
I rest my phone on the sink and put some music on before I get in the shower. I let the warm water wash off my exhaustion and I run my hands over my face, all the way back to my hair. As the water travels down my back, the image of Noah standing in my kitchen flashes in my mind. His frame bathed in sunlight, all shiny hair, snug T-shirt against his biceps, and lose joggers hanging low on his hips. A tingling feeling runs up my spine and sends heat rising to my face. I spin to face the faucet and turn on the cold water.
After that painful but much-needed shower, I walk back to my room with my bathrobe on and my hair wrapped in a towel. I skim through my closet and decide to go for a basic outfit for the day, a green crewneck sweatshirt, a pair of light wash jean shorts and my white sneakers.
I sit at my desk in front of my little mirror and toss my hair around as I give it a quick blow-dry. When I'm done with that, I stare at myself and notice I still look slightly dead, so I apply a little bit of concealer under my eyes and rummage through my makeup drawer for my mascara. As I start slowly applying it...
HONK HONK!
The startling sound of a car horn beeping almost causes me to stab my eye out with the mascara wand. I get up and walk over to the window, pulling the curtains open and sliding the glass up, the fresh air of the morning hitting me instantly. I look down to see a white Audi A3 with black tinted windows, and a gorgeous specimen of a man leaning against it.
"Morning," Noah greets me with a wide grin on his face, as he lifts two fingers to his forehead to casually salute me.
I'm suddenly in need of a second cold shower.
"Noah, what are you doing here? It's 7:30 in the morning." I say, trying to keep my voice down so as to not alert my parents. Though I guess his car honking already took care of that.
"Isn't it obvious? I'm driving you to school. Now are you coming down, or do I have to wait for you to let down your hair so I can climb up there?"
"You're insane," I say shaking my head and chuckling as I turn away from the window.
"You love it though." I hear him say. And I think I do.
I speed around my room going through a mental checklist. Backpack, keys, phone, wallet. Got it. I rush down the stairs and meet Noah out front. His hair is messy and fluffy in the sexiest way possible, he's wearing a black, short sleeve v-neck shirt, and matching black jeans.
"You ready?" he asks, opening the passenger door for me and I nod as I slip into the seat. He shuts the door after me and gets in the driver's seat, revving the engine to life and we're on our way.
As we drive through town, I look out the window lost in thought. That is until my stomach decides to make its own rendition of a whale's mating call. I cringe, embarrassed from the very obvious grumbling that just came from my insides, and I wrap my arms around my belly trying to muffle any other noise that might want to make a performance "Someone's hungry." Noah points out with a smile, cranking my embarrassment levels up by a thousand, "Did you have breakfast this morning?" he asks.
"Didn't really have the time," I confess.
"Say no more," he says, abruptly taking a left turn, making me hold on tightly to my seat.
He drives a couple of blocks down the road and then stops, parking the car outside Frenchy's in the lot. "Noah, you really don't have to..."
"No no, no complaining," he says holding up a finger to my mouth and interrupting me. "You haven't eaten, you're obviously hungry, and we're already here. So now you're going to tell me, how do you like your coffee?"
He delivers the question with the cutest dimpled smile, which makes it very hard for me to keep my brows furrowed at him. I appreciate what he's been doing for me the past few days, but I don't want him to feel like he has to do these kinds of things for me. He's still looking at me, expecting my answer, and with that damned charming smile plastered on his face. I sigh, giving up, knowing there's no use trying to resist him. "Iced," I say in a low, shy voice.
"Milk or black?" he asks.
"With milk" I mumble. "Oh, and with a ton of sugar. I like it sweet," I add.
"Be right back." he smiles as he gets out of the car.
I see him go in, and I turn the volume of the radio up, nervously drumming on my thighs with my hands as I wait for him. A few minutes later he comes back out with a light brown drink in a clear plastic cup in one hand, and a little paper bag in the other. He gets in the car handing me the coffee, and I peek inside the bag to see a big cinnamon roll.
"You're fucking unbelievable, you know that?" I ask, sighing and rolling my head back, annoyed at how sweet he is. "Thank you, but there's no need for you to keep doing me favors like this. I could've bought my own breakfast."
"Well, you better get used to it. I like doing nice things for you because when I do, I get to see that cute little smile of yours." the corners of his mouth quirk up and I shrink in my seat, "So like it or not, I'm going to keep doing them. Sorry." He shrugs, clearly not sorry at all. As I stare at him pulling out of the parking lot, I think. I do want to get used to this.
***
We finally arrive at school, and even though we took a detour, we still have a few minutes left to spare before class starts. Noah gets out of the car and circles around to open my door for me. "Such a gentleman," I say with a hand on my chest and he laughs.
I slip on my backpack staps, and as I'm about to start walking towards the main entrance, I feel Noah's hand holding onto mine and I turn to see him walking beside me. "Are you sure about this?" I ask looking down at his long, slim fingers laced with mine.
"Absolutely," he replies with a reassuring smile. I return it and, hand in hand, we walk inside the building.
As I expected, we receive quite a few stares. I see Mason talking to a few of the guys from the football team, leaning against the lockers. He stops mid-sentence and gives me a puzzled look, making the rest of the boys turn to look at us. I turn to Noah as he faces forward, not paying any attention to them, but brushing his thumb on the back of my hand reassuringly.
Right as I decide to rest my head on Noah's shoulder, I spot Tyler at the end of the hallway. My heart sinks down to my stomach when his eyes meet mine, and it shatters in a million pieces when his gaze travels down to Noah and I's intertwined hands. His mouth presses into a thin line and I see his shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath in, nodding before looking away. I take a step towards him, but he closes his locker and is out of the building through the back door before I can get any closer.
I'm about to run after him, but Noah holds me back, "Let him go." he says, taking me by the hand, "He needs some time to cool off," I stop and consider that he's right. If I run after him now I'll just make things worse, so my feet stay glued to the ground as a single tear runs down my cheek.
"Hey, it'll be okay," Noah says, turning my head to face him and using his thumb to wipe away my tear. He strokes my cheek soothingly and I instinctively wrap my arms around him, not caring about the fact that we're standing in a hallway crowded with people watching us. He holds me in a tight embrace, calming me down until I feel like I can keep the tears at bay and not break down in front of everyone. The bell rings, startling me and I pull back from Noah abruptly.
"Let me walk you to class," he says.
"Okay," I reply in a whisper and he takes my hand again as we walk towards my classroom. We stand outside the door, and he steps in front of me so I can face him.
"I'll see you after practice, okay? We can go back to my place and talk about this. Or not, if that's what you want."
"Alright," I say again looking down.
He leans in to give me a soft kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you later Mads," he says as he starts walking backwards and I wave at him with a sad smile. He then turns around and jogs down the hall to get to his own class.
I look inside the classroom to see my teacher has already started with the lesson. Great, I'm tired, I'm late, and I'm emotionally wrecked again. I take a deep breath as I step inside, hoping that this day doesn't get any worse.