Love (and other four letter words)

As the next couple of months progressed, Noah and I grew increasingly close and learned a great deal about each other. And yet, in spite of how honest he was about certain aspects of himself and his life, some key questions remained unanswered.

For instance, I learned that his favorite color was white and he learned that mine was blue. He learned The Empire Strikes back was my favorite movie, and I learned that his was a Mexican movie that I had never heard of called “Y Tu Mama Tambien”. He disclosed that his favorite book was called “Niebla”, which is about a man who slowly becomes aware that he is only a fictional character in a book. Personaly, I was unable to choose just ONE book as my definitive favorite and ended up listing about 5. Over these two months I also learned how much I enjoy being rimmed but that’s a whole other story.

Two things, however, stayed a mystery for those months; The first, and most concerning, was Noah’s source of income. Despite not having a steady job aside from alleged “odd jobs” that he would do for people, or “commission work”, as he called it, Noah never seemed to run out of money for tattoos, dinners, cigarettes, bills, nice clothes, ect. Whenever I brought up questions about this, he would change the subject with some form of distraction, usually by kissing me or by ripping my clothes off. Needless to say, it was a little bit hard not to lose my train of thought when he pounced on me like that.

The second questioned that remained un-answered was where he would randomly disappear to. Sometimes he wouldn’t text me back for a full 24 hours before eventually hitting me up, apologizing, and telling me he was his phone was dead, or that he had fallen asleep, or that he was just too busy to check his phone. These explanations sparked a tinge of suspicion in me, but I would convince myself that I was just being paranoid because of all the bull shit that Ryan had put me through.

And as promised, Noah took me for driving lessons in his car so that I could practice for my G2 test, despite the fact that he looked terrified the entire time I was behind the wheel. Apparently, driving is a lot easier on paper than it is on the road. Who knew? Some of my favorite things Noah would say while we were driving included, “You’re going too fast!” and “Stay between the lines!” and “Travis, seriously, Stop signs are NOT just suggestions!”

Rules, rules, rules!

One afternoon, after the summer had turned into fall, and the trees lost their leaves to the streets, Noah was letting me crunch them beneath the wheels of his Audi as we cruised around the city.

“Check your mirrors,” he insisted.

“I am,” I am sighed, “Can you turn on the radio?”

“I don’t think you’re a good enough driver to be driving with distractions just yet,” he admitted.

“Come on, I need to learn how to multi-task,” I persuaded.

“Ugh…fine…but only on low,” he said, turning the radio on to a Randy Travis song.

“Hey! I’m named after this guy,” I beamed.

“I don’t even know who this is, I hate country music,” Noah confessed.

“It’s Randy Travis. My grandma was a big fan of his,” I explained, “And it worked out because everyone in my family as a T name – Tiffany,Tabitha,Trish, Troy…”

“Yeah, yeah, I see the pattern,” Noah nodded, “You’re crossing the line again!”

“Sorry!” I apologized, jerking the car quickly to the right

“Fuck!” Noah gasped, “Don’t make such wide adjustments!”

“Sorry,” I apologized again.

“Hey, wanna hear something funny?” Noah said as we made our way past a huge clock tower located in what I guess could be considered the “down town” of our city.

“Sure,” I answered, maintaining my place between the lines, while still glacing at Noah as he pointed to the top of the clock tower.

“I had sex up there once,” He said proudly.

“What? Seriously? How?”

“I snuck up there with some of my friends,” he explained, “Actually, the door wasn’t even locked, we just walked right in. And me and this girl did it at the top, it was really cool. Definitely one of the top 5 weirdest places I’ve ever done it, but also one of the best. Ya know, until security came and chased us out.”

“That’s crazy,” I replied. It wasn’t necessarily a ‘funny’ story, more of a brag than anything else.

“Where is the weirdest place you’ve ever done it?” he asked as I checked my mirror for the first time in a really long time.

“I’ve never had sex anywhere but on a bed,” I admitted.

“Bull shit,” he scoffed.

“It’s true. I’m a goody-two-shoes. Boring. Vanilla. Tofu wrapped in white bread,” I shrugged.

He was quiet for a moment, then gestured to an upcoming parking lot.

“I’ve got an idea. Pull in there,” he instructed.

“Why?” I questioned.

“Just do it,” he spat the Nike slogan at me, so I did.

“That was good,” he complimented, “But maybe next time you could try using a turn signal?”

“Sorry,” I apologized.

By the signs posted around this parking lot, it was apparently used to access some sort of nature trail/bird watching park/great places to dump a body. It was all forest and trees as far as the eye could see. Not much of a “park” if you ask me.

“Are we going bird watching?” I asked as we pulled into a parking space.

“No, we…wait, um, you should probably back up and pull in again. You’re not straight,” Noah said, looking out the window at the line that the car was crossing.

“If I had a nickel for every time I heard that…” I said, putting he car in reverse, backing up, then putting it back in drive and pulling in again, “Is that better?”

“Um…no…not…really…whatever, it’s good enough. Turn off the engine and grab the keys,” he instructed, so I did, and we both got out of the car, “Don’t forget to lock it.”

“Right!” I said, quickly locking it as Noah walked ahead of me, into the forest with a path for sight-seers.

“What are we doing?” I asked, jogging so I could catch up to him and handing him his keys.

“You’ll see,” he said, looking around to make sure no one was watching us, before suddenly walking off of the paved path and onto the terrain of the forest. I followed behind him, stepping over logs and darting between trees, walking deeper and deeper until he stopped in front of a big, tall, bare, oak tree.

“This looks good,” he said to himself, then looked at me with a mischievous grin as he took me by the collar of my camo jacket, “Come here.”

He kissed me forcefully, before shoving me up against the tree bark, letting one of his hands move down to my neck, resting under my jaw while the other wandered down to my waist, undoing my belt.

“Woah, hold on,” I exhaled as his kisses moved down to my neck, his hand continuing to work to undo my belt, “Not that I’m complaining but…what are we doing, exactly?”

He pulled away and looked at me, amused.

“You are SO innocent, it’s adorable!” he complimented as the buckle on my belt finally came loose, ““You said you’ve never had sex anywhere but on a bed. We’re gonna change that.”

He unbuttoned my jeans and unzipped them, hooking his thumbs into the sides and yanking them down.

“Dude, no!” I protested, attempting to grab onto my boxers to keep them from coming down, “Are you crazy?!”

“Maybe,” He asked, his hands fighting mind for control of which direction my pants were being pulled, “But you kinda like it, right?”

“Noah,” I protested, “I don’t even like the idea of people seeing us kiss in public, let alone having sex.”

“No one’s gonna see us,” he insisted, “Nobody comes all the way out here…”

“We’re all the way out here, aren’t we?” I countered.

“Hey, if anyone else DOES come over here, they probably want to fuck too!” He theorized, “This could turn into an orgy and I am in no way opposed to that.”

“For Gods sake,” I said, shaking my head. He pushed my hand away and continued to pull my pants down.

“Live a little,” he persuaded as his hand moved down between my boxers and my jeans, rubbing me as I began to harden, despite the immense fear coursing through me. I sighed and closed my eyes as my primal urges began to over ride my logical brain.

“Should I keep going?” He asked, knowing he had me. I opened my eyes and looked around for passers by.

“If we get caught, I’m blaming you,” I warned.

“Deal,” he smirked, yanking my pants down swiftly so that I was completely exposed for all of the forest creatures to see.

“It…is…chilly out here with no pants on,” I admitted as I looked around again.

Noah lowered himself down to his knees with no concern for what the dirt was doing to his pants, taking me in his hand and stroking me intently, before placing his tongue on my cockhead, letting it slide all the way down to the base, stroking it as he looked up at me.

 “Isn’t this exciting?” He asked depravedly.

“I guess,” I said, looking through the trees with paranoia.

 “Is your heart beating really fast right now?” He asked, licking me from tip to base again.

“Uh, you think?!” I scoffed, feeling as though someone may interrupt us at any moment.

“It’s a rush, isn’t it?” He beamed.

“Maybe…” I exhaled, still worried.

“Just keep an eye out and everything will be fine,” He reassured me, lapping up the other side of my dick with his tongue, licking it up to the head, then putting the uncut top in his mouth and grabbing my hand, placing it on the back of his head, which was his special, non-verbal way of telling me he wanted me to skull fuck him. I took one last good look around, before pushing his head down, bucking my hips, causing him to groan happily every time my dick made contact with the back of his throat. As nerve-wracking as this was, Noah was right – it was a hell of a rush! Knowing we were doing something so taboo in a setting where we could get caught gave me the most surreal, deviant sensation. 

“You good now?” He asked.

“Mmm-hmm,” I nodded, still a little scared, but a little too turned on to care. He continued to work my dick up and down with is hand while looking up at me with his incredibly infatuating hazel eyes.

“I am going to fuck you so hard,” he cautioned, “Turn around.”

“We don’t have any lube,” I realized.

“What do you think spit is?” he scoffed, “Lean up against the tree and arch your back.”

I did as I was told and felt his tongue lubing me up as I rested my forehead against my hand, which was pressed against the tree to keep my face from scraping the bark or knocking my glasses of, while my other hand held on to it as best I could for support. I closed my eyes and momentarily forgot where we were.

“You still keeping look-out?” He asked.

“Mmm-hmmm,” I sighed, then immediately realized I wasn’t and re-opened my eyes.  Still no company, no joggers, no other voyers looking to start an orgy.

Noah stood up and I could hear him undoing his pants and spitting on his hand. He leaned up against my back and took the hand I was using to brace myself against the tree and held onto the top of it so that we would both have support. He slowly pushed inside of me, gently and carefully, his chin resting on my shoulder as I took in deep, calming breaths,squeezing my eyes shut as I felt the head make it all the way in. Noah stopped, letting me get used to it as I turned my head around as far as my neck would let me, putting my hand on the side of his face, guiding his lips onto mine.

“You good?” He asked asked. I nodded my approval and turned back around, resting my forehead back against the top of my hand, bending over as far as I comfortably could.

“More,” I exhaled, my heart beating at a near cardiactic rate. Noah took both of his hands and gripped me firmly around my narrow hips. He steadily shoved his impressively thick member inside me, careful not to go too fast, or too hard, as he always did.

“Holy….fuck…yes…” I groaned, as he pulled out, then re-entered until he was more than half way in, “God…damn…”

“Feel good?” He asked as one of his hands rubbed my lower back.

“Yeah,” I groaned, “Go faster.”

Once I assured him he wasn’t hurting me, Noah began to rhythmically move in and out at a quicker pace as I continued to try and keep an eye out, but it was becoming more difficult the more aroused I got.

“Harder,” I urged, reaching down to gratify myself, still holding onto the tree with one hand for balance. Noah didn’t need to be told twice and began to pound me like a gigolo who’s rent was due.

“Jesus…fucking….Christ…” I gasped, making a mental note to apologize for my blasphemy at Confession tomorrow.

“You like it?” he inquired, though I’m pretty sure he already knew the answer.

“Yes, daddy,” I exhaled, jerking myself off more intensely, lost in my own perverse little world.

“Who’s my sexy little power bottom?” he asked, smacking me across the ass with his right hand.

“Ugh! Me,” I groaned as his picked up his pace even more.

“And who’s the best fuck you’ve ever had?” he questioned.

“You,” I answered honestly, even though I didn’t have very many people to compare him to.

“And where’s the weirdest place you’ve ever had sex?” He inquired.

“Definitely here,” I said, since it really, really was.

“Good boy. Get on all fours,” he instructed, pushing me down until we were both kneeling on the grass, one of my hands resting beneath my head to keep my face from behind pushed into the dirt.  Any chance of me keeping an eye out for company was lost, I was enjoying myself far too much. So much so that I didn’t even care about the grass stains I was no doubt getting on my jeans. I was also barely able to control of the volume of my moaning as he pounded me from behind, doggy style, our mutual favorite position (another fun fact we had learned about each other.)

“How bad do you want my cum?” He asked as we banged like actual dogs on the dirty ground.

“So bad,” I gasped.

“Beg me for it,” he demanded, digging his nails into my hips.

“Please shoot your cum in me,” I groaned, which he responded to with another smack across my ass.

“Come on, baby, you can beg better than that,” he scoffed as he worked himself inside of me.

Oh. You bet I can.

“Please fill my ass with your cum, daddy!  I want it so bad!” I groaned, pushing my body back every time she pushed his forward to give him more force.

“Fuck…that’s good,” Noah panted, picking up his speed, “Keep going…”

“I need your cum in me,” I moaned, way past the point of being embarrassed by anything I might say, and too horny to be scared of the thought of getting caught anymore, “I wanna take all of it up my ass.”

“You like taking my load?” He groaned, grabbing my hair and raw dogging me hard as fuck.

“I love taking your load, daddy,” I answered sincerely, my eyes closed tight, my head craned back, my own orgasm approaching as quickly as his was, “I love getting fucked by you. I love feeling your big fucking dick inside me.  I love…”

I stopped myself before I got too carried away and said something I couldn’t take back.

“I love being your power bottom,” I concluded.

“Good boy…good boy…” He groaned, holding my hair so tight I actually began concerned that he might rip it out of my head, then let out the tell tale breathless moan that I had become used to, letting me know he was reaching the peak of pleasure. My suspicious were confirmed as I felt his warm seed spurting inside me as he let out small gasps, his grip on my blonde hair gradually loosening as all of the energy seemed to drain from his body, his gasps turning into quiet whimper-like sounds, following by a deep breath and a satisfied exhale as his body relaxed.

The feeling of him finishing inside me sent me over the edge and I released myself onto the ground below (sorry, bugs) with an exasperated moan and went limp on the ground. 

“Holy…shit…” Noah panted, straightening his back up and rubbing mine, “That fucking was dope.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” I agreed, lifting myself up by my elbows, “But we should probably get dressed now though…I’m starting to come back to my senses.”

“I feel you,” He sighed, pulling out and swiftly pulling up his pants. I pulled up my own and we made our way quickly, but as conspicuously as possible, back to the car where Noah, once again, let me drive.

“I can’t believe we just did that!” I exclaimed as we drove out of the parking lot.

“Fun, wasn’t it?” Noah grinned as he smoked a cigarette, holding it out the window as best he could to prevent smoke from wafting through the car.

“Yeah! My heart was pounding the whole time,” I gushed, “But, uh… it kinda hurts to sit down right now, though.”

“Sorry about that,” Noah apologized

“Oh, don’t be, it was worth it,” I grinned from ear to ear, “And the best part is, we didn’t get caught!”

I spoke exactly one second too soon, as the sound of a siren rang out and blue and red lights began flashing behind us. Noah and I both stared at the squad car in the rear view mirror with our mouths hanging open.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” I groaned, the smile effectively stripped from the face.

“Shit…” Noah cursed, taking a long drag of his cigarette, “Okay, just…don’t panic…”

“I’m gonna go to jail,” I groaned, convinced that we were about to get arrested for public nudity, or lewdness, or for having anal in a bird watching park (which isn’t technically a crime, but it was so good it SHOULD be illegal.)

 “Relax, everything’s okay,” Noah reassured me, “Just put on the right turn signal, pull over to the right, roll down the window and turn the engine off. And stay calm. We haven’t done anything wrong that he can pin us for.”

I did as I was instructed and shook like a leaf as the cop took his sweet ass time walking up to the drivers side window.

“Good afternoon,” he said, looking down at me, in his Ontario Provincial Police uniform.

“WHAT Forest?!” I blurted out.

Both Noah and the cop stared at me like I was the dumbest person they had ever met.

“Excuse me?” The cop said, raising an eye brow.

“Um…nothing…Hi,” I gulped as I looked up at him, nervously twisting my hands around the steering wheel. He stared at me with suspicious eyes as he twiddled his pen on top of his note pad.

“Do you happen to know why I pulled you over today, sir?” He asked, either choosing to ignore the “forest” comment or just assuming I had tourettes syndrome.

“Nope, nope,” I denied shaking my head, “No idea.”

“Sir,” Noah whispered beside me.

“Sir,” I repeated, before realizing what he was actually telling me to do, “I mean, no, sir.”

“Let me ask you this: How fast do you think you were going?” The cop questioned.

Now THAT was going to be a tricky one to answer…I was on such an adrenaline high, I hadn’t even bothered to check my speed since we left the parking lot.

“Um…like, thirty?” I guestimated.

“Are you any good at math?” He asked.

 “I’m….I’m okay at it, I guess?” I shrugged, not sure what he was getting at.

“Sir,” Noah whispered again.

“Sir,” I repeated.

“Okay, let’s do a little bit of math, then. What’s thirty times two?” He asked.

“An equation that wouldn’t stump anyone older than 10,” I said in my head, but I decided that right now wasn’t the best time to be a smart ass.

“Sixty, sir,” I answered.

“Good job. THAT’S how fast you were going,” he informed me, “In a school zone.”

“Oh,” I said, gulping, “I’m sorry.”

“You also failed to signal when you came out of that parking lot and you were driving over the line,” He continued, “I’m guessing you’re sorry for that, too?”

“Yes, sir,” I nodded, relieved that he was apparently obviously to WHY we had been in the parking lot in the first place.

“Have you been drinking?” He asked.

“No! No! Not at all, sir, I’m not even old enough to drink,” I insisted.

“Okay, then, did you get your license from a Cracker Jack box, or something? Because you broke three of the most basic rules of driving,” he said bluntly.

“Well, I….I technically don’t have my full license yet, sir,” I answered. He raised his eye brow again and cocked his head slightly to the left.

“Than why are you behind the wheel?” He asked.

 “Um..he’s…he’s teaching me how to drive,” I said, pointing to Noah. The officer bent over slightly to look at Noah.

“You’re not a very good teacher,” he said simply, then glaring at the cigarette between Noah’s fingers, “Would you mind putting that out?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry,” Noah said, budding the cigarette out in his ash trey. The cop turned his attention back to me.

“Do you at least have your G1?” He asked, “Because if not…”

“Yes! Yes! I do!” I quickly reassured him.

“Don’t interrupt me,” he barked at me.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I apologized.

“Good. Now, if both of you could go ahead and grab your licenses for me, that would be swell,” he said, writing something down on his notepad. I handed him both of our licenses and he looked them over.

“Now, since Mr. Charles doesn’t have his G, I’m going to assume that this car belongs to Mr. Loveless?” He presumed.

“Amazing Detective work, Nancy Drew,” I mentally scolded.

“Yes, sir,” Noah stated calmly.

“Mr. Loveless, let me give you some advice. If you’re gonna teach your friend here how to drive, I think you ought to do it in an enclosed space instead of on a busy street,” The officer suggested, “Because it doesn’t matter how sorry he is, if he gets in a wreck, your insurance is gonna go through the roof.”

“You’re right, sir,” Noah agreed, “We’ll do that next time. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, speaking of which, can I get the car registration and insurance off you?” The officer requested.

“Yes, sir,” Noah said, opening the glove box and searching around a bit before eventually finding it.

“Thank you,” The officer said, looking it over for a second, “All right, I’m gonna go back to my car and check out something real quick, you guys just sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

He walked away, leaving me sweating and still paranoid as all hell.

“Travis, stop shaking,” Noah said firmly.

“It’s not exactly voluntary!” I said, looking in the rear view at the cop sitting in his car.

“Baby. Relax. Nothing bad is going to happen,” Noah assured me, “Worst case Ontario, we’ll get a ticket and I’ll pay it. It’s fine.  So chill.”

“Oh, I’m chill. I’m very chill. If I were any more chill, I’d be made of ice cream,” I said, still staring at the cop in the mirror as he typed on his lap top in his car. He eventually got out of his car and walked back over to us, but this time he made his way over to the passengers side.

“Mr. Loveless,” The cop said, bending over and leaning in the window slightly so that he and Noah could be eye to eye, “Why did you neglect to inform me that you are currently on parole?”

Everything went silent for a second. I could see Noah’s reflection on the passengers side mirror and he looked completely blindsided by the question.

“Well, I….I honestly didn’t think it was relevant to the matter at hand, sir,” Noah answered, his calm demeanor slightly shaken.

“I beg to differ,” the cop said, standing up straight, “Do me a favor and step out of the car for a second.”

Noah didn’t look at me at all as he exited the car. If he did, he would have seen the baffled expression on my face.

“PAROLE?!”  I wanted to shout at him as he stopped outside, “PAROLE FOR WHAT?!”

Of all the things we had discussed over the past few weeks, he had never mentioned ever being arrested, let alone being on parole.

“Go ahead and put your hands on roof of the car and spread your legs apart, Mr. Loveless,” The officer instructed. Noah complied as I watched the scene unfold.

 “Do you got anything in your pockets that’s gonna stick or poke me?” The officer asked, patting him around the chest and ribs.

“Yes, sir, I have a box cutter in my jacket pocket,” I heard Noah reply as calmly as he could. The officer reached into the pockets of his jacket and retrieved Noah’s cigarettes, lighter and indeed, a black box cutter.

“Why do you have a box cutter in your pocket, Mr. Loveless?” The officer asked, placing everything on the hood of the car for me, and everyone else driving by, to see.

“To open boxes, sir,” Noah answered.  I know he wasn’t saying it to be a smart ass, but that’s probably what it sounded like to the cop.

He reached into Noah’s other pockets, taking out his wallet, cell phone. He opened Noah’s wallet and searched it, but found nothing note-worthy. He placed the rest of Noah’s things on the hood of the car and continued to search him.

“You don’t have any needles on you, do you?” The officer questioned.

“No sir,” Noah replied.

“When’s the last time you used drugs?” The officer asked.

I’m sure that, at this point, my eyes looked like one of those rubber toys where you squeeze the body and the eye balls pop out obscenely far.

“USED WHAT?!”  I shouted in my head.

“A very long time ago, sir,” Noah answered, more quietly than he had answered the other questions.

“What’s that mean? A week? A month? A year?” The cop questioned.

“Over three years ago, sir,” Noah replied.

“Uh huh. And what’s this?” The officer asked suspiciously, clutching the front of Noah’s jeans.

“What’s what, sir?”  Noah asked.

“This lump in your pants. What is that?” The officer asked.

“Oh…uh, that is my penis, sir,” Noah said, somewhat awkwardly.

“Oh!” The officer gasped, yanking his hand away, before chuckling nervously, “Sorry about that!”

“It’s okay, sir,” Noah assured him.

“Um….okay, so…” The cop said, taking a moment to collect himself, “Can you roll up your sleeves for me, please?”

“Can I just take my jacket off instead? It’s a little too tight to roll the sleeves up. Sir,” Noah requested, without even asking WHY the cop wanted him to do so.

“Sure, sure, go ahead,” The cop complied. Noah took his black leather jacket and, without being asked to, stuck his fore arms out in front of the officer, palms up. The officer then began running his index finger up each of Noahs fore arms, giving extra special attention to the inner creases of his elbow, next to his biceps.

“Very good. No track marks,” He complimented, “At least, no fresh ones. It’s a little bit hard to actually see your skin under all those tattoos. Did you get those in prison?”

“Some of them, yes,” Noah answered, again – quietly, “Can I put my jacket back on now, sir?”

“Yes you may,” The officer replied, writing something else down on his notepad, “Now, I just want to ask you one more question, Mr. Loveless. If I chose to search your car right now, would I find anything illegal?”

“No, sir,” Noah answered.

“Are you sure?” He pressured.

“Yes, sir,” Noah nodded.

“Okay. Do me a favor and take a walk over to my squad car, please,” he instructed. Noah slipped his jacket back on and walked over to the squad car with the officer, who opened the door and placed him in the back seat, which caused me to have a mini heart attack.

“Why-Why are you arresting him?” I asked as the cop walked back over to my side of the car.

“I’m not arresting him, I’m just detaining him for a minute so we can talk. Go ahead and step out of the car for me,” He requested. I took of my seat belt with my shaking hands and stepped out of the car.

“Put your hands on the hood and spread your legs, Mr. Charles” he instructed, to which I reluctantly obeyed.

Don’t get me wrong, I like a man who takes charge but…not like this.

The cop patted me down as I stood there, extremely embarrassed that everyone who drove by was getting to witness this.

“Please, God, don’t let my parents drive by right now,” I silently prayed, “I’ll do anything you want. Anything! Except turn straight. We’ve talked about that.”

“Do you have anything in your pockets that’s gonna stick or poke me?” He asked.

“No sir,” I answered honestly. He continued his search and found absolutely nothing.

“Turn and face me, please,” he instructed and I did as I was told, “Now, Mr. Charles, I’m going to ask you a question and I’d like you to be honest with me. If I looked in the car, would I find anything illegal?” He asked.

My first instinct was to say “FUCK NO, you power tripping, quota hungry mother fucker! FREE MY NOAH!”

But then I realized….that I honestly didn’t know. I had certainly never searched Noah’s car, maybe there was something illegal in there! How should I know? I didn’t Noah was on parole, or that he had been to prison, or that he carried a box cutter or that he was a user of…..some ambiguous narcotic. I began to question how much I actually knew about Noah...

“Mr. Charles, are you doing an internal narration right now?” The cop asked, snapping out of my daze.

“Um, yeah, sorry,” I said shaking my head to bring myself back to reality. I took a deep breath and decided to live by the criminal code: snitches get stitches. I heard that in a rap song once.

“No, sir,” I answered, “There is nothing illegal in the car.”

“Are you sure?” he pressured.

“Yes, sir,” I nodded.

“Has Mr. Loveless consumed any alcohol or narcotics today?” He asked. As far as I knew, he didn’t, but once again…I couldn’t be 100% sure. Never the less, I answered,

“No, sir.”

“All right…do me a favor and go sit in the passengers seat,” the officer said, and, once again, I obeyed.

“So, here’s what’s up,” he said, leaning on the open window, “Since I don’t have a warrant, and since you have both been co-operative, and since I don’t have probable cause to search the vehicle at this time, I’m gonna go ahead let you off with a ticket for speeding,” He stated, “BUT if I see you guys driving around here all crazy one more time, it’s gonna be a different story. And Mr. Loveless will have to have a long talk with both his insurance company, and his parole officer. And further more, I’m gonna go ahead and insist that he drive you home from here because, with all due respect kid, you are NOT ready to be on the road yet,” he said.

“Ouch. Kick me while I’m down, why dontcha.” I mentally pouted.

“I’ll send Mr. Loveless back here with both of your I.D’s. And maybe you should consider some real driving lessons?” He suggested, ripping off a ticket and handing it to me, “Because you don’t seem to be learning a whole lot from him.”

“Okay, man, there’s no need to be a dick about it.”

“Have a good day, Mr. Charles,” he bid me farewell.

“Thank you, Sir. You too,” I answered.

I watched in the mirror as he let Noah out of the car, spoke to him for a moment, and performed a quick breathalyzer test on him, before sending him on his way back to the car. Noah hopped in the drivers seat and didn’t look at me at all when he handed me my I.D.

We started driving again and the cop stayed behind us for a little while, presumably to make sure that Noah wasn’t as bad a driver as I was, before eventually turning onto a different street. Once he was gone, Noah let out a sigh of relief before lighting another cigarette.

“Fuck me…” he sighed, breaking the silence, “That was a pain in the ass. But, all things considered, I’d say that went pretty well. “

I folded my arms and stared at him, even though he refused to look back at me.

“You’ve been to prison?” I asked, point blank. He took  a long inhale of his cigarette and shrugged as he ashed it out the window.

“That wasn’t a rhetorical question, Noah,” I added, when he didn’t answer me.

“Yeah…no biggie,” he muttered, glancing in the rear view mirror, “I’m really hungry. Are you hungry? What are you in the mood for? I’m thinkin’ pasta.”

“Don’t change the subject. What were you arrested for?”  I asked.

“Doesn’t matter now,” he shrugged, “So, how much is that ticket?”

“Don’t change the subject,” I said repeated, “What were you arrested for?”

 “Nothing you need to worry your little blonde head about, baby,” Noah sighed, “So, would you rather have Italian or Chinese food? Because I could go for either…”

“Noah!” I shouted in frustration, causing him to look at me for the first time since he had started driving. He furrowed his eye brows me and turned his attention back to the road.

“Yeah, if you could like, not yell in my fucking ear, that would be great…” He replied, irately.

“Yeah, well, if you could like, answer my fucking question, THAT would be great,” I shot back.

“Travis, I don’t want to talk about it,” He replied, seemingly getting as pissed off with being asked questioned as I was about them not being answered, “It’s in the past, it’s over, let’s just forget about it, okay?”

“Why won’t you just answer me?” I continued to ask.

“I’m trying to drive,” he grumbled, “Stop distracting me.”

“Tell me why you were arrested,” I demaned. Noah took one last drag of his cigarette and flicked it out the window.

“No,” he said simply.

“Excuse me?” I scoffed.

“I said no,” Noah repeated, “Now stop asking about it, you’re starting to piss me off.”

I folded my arms and glared at him.

“Why are you being ass hole?” I growled.

“Oh, I’M being an ass hole?” Noah scoffed, half smiling, “You just got a two-hundred dollar fucking ticket that I’m gonna have to pay for and you think I’M being an ass hole?”

“You don’t have to pay for shit! I’ll pay for it,” I shot back.

“No you wont, Travis, because you don’t have any money,” Noah spat.

Well. He was right about that. Maybe I ought to get a job so that he wouldn’t have to pay for everything. I am 18 after all and….HEY! Wait a minute! He was changing the subject again!

“Stop changing the subject!” I snapped in a voice louder than I meant to.

“Stop yelling in my ear!” He snapped back, equally as loud.

“Tell me what you were arrested for and I will!” I demanded.

 “Travis, drop it,” Noah sneered, his face reddening slightly with anger.

“Tell me!” I insisted.

“No, ” Noah said again, as the car halted at a red light.

“Tell me!” I shouted back.

“No!” He yelled again.

“TELL ME!” I shouted so loud that the people in the car behind us probably heard us.

“NO!” He shouted just as loud.

“TELL ME!” I screamed, slamming my fist down on the center console.

“METH!” He screamed back, finally turning his head to look at me, our noses inches apart, the built up frustration exploding out of his mouth.

“I…You….W-what?” I stammered, my brain struggling to comprehend his admission as I stared at him, bewildered.

Before he could respond, the horn of the car behind us began to honk loudly as the driver shouted out the window,

“The light’s green, ass hole! Get a move on!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Noah screamed out the window, before screeching through the now green light. We drove down the street, over come by another awkward silence as I tried to figure out how to respond to this. I had wanted him to answer me so bad, but I hadn’t really considered how I would reply.

“You got your answer. Are you happy now?” He asked, breaking the silence yet again.

“No…” I mumbled, staring down at my knees, “I’m…confused.”

“Oh my god. How the fuck can you possibly confused?” Noah sighed, shaking his head.

“I just…I don’t understand…” I said, my brain still quite not comprehending his statement, “What do you mean, meth?”

“Holy shit, did you grow up under a rock? Meth. Crystal meth,” he scoffed, “Ice. Crank. Speed. Glass. Methamphetamine. Do you want me to Google it for you? Fuck, man, English is my second language, it’s your first, this should be easy for you…”

“I know what it is, Noah,” I retorted.

“Fantastic, good for you,” Noah shot back.

“I mean, were you…” I tried to figure out the right way to phrase it, “Were you like…a meth dealer?”

He took a deep breath and exhaled his reply,

“No…”

“So, you…” I danced around it for a moment before speaking, “Smoked it?”

He took another deep breath.

“I shot it,” he answered, staring blankly at the road ahead.

“Like…with a syringe?” I clarified, cringing slightly. He chewed his lower lip for a few seconds before answering.

“Yeah,” he said finally. We care was awkwardly silent again.

“Well…” I said, trying to defuse the situation with a bit of comedy, “I guess that explains why you’re not afraid of needles, eh?”

He shook his head, without even the hint of a smile on his face.

“It’s not funny, Travis,” he said coldly.

“Yeah… I know,” I sighed, “But humor is my only coping mechanism.”

“I’ve noticed,” he mumbled.

Another awkward silence.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, being the one to break it this time.

“Yeah, I’m sure that would have gone over really well,” Noah scoffed, “Hi, I’m Noah Loveles, a jobless ex-drug addict and who’s currently on parole.’ I bet you would have been REALLY eager to date me.”

Well….that was a good point.

 “You don’t….you don’t still do it….do you?” I asked nervously.

“No, I don’t still do it,” Noah answered through gritted teeth, “Three years, clean and sober. Go me.”

“Well, that’s good,” I half smiled, “Did you go to rehab?”

“No, I went to prison. They don’t let you continue using drugs once they lock you up,” he sighed as we rounded the corner, “It works better than rehab, if you ask me.”

“How long were you in prison for?” I inquired.

“Fifteen months,” He replied, “I had a great lawyer. She got me patrolled early.”

 “Can I ask why?” I questioned.

“Why what?” Noah sighed as we neared our apartment complex.  

“Why were you doing drugs in the first place?” I clarified.

“I don’t kon’t know,” he shrugged.

“Come on, you’ve gotta have a better answer than that,” I pushed.

“I was just…un-happy, I guess,” he rationalized.

“With…?”

“Everything,” he answered, “I didn’t get along with my dad. I missed my mom. I hated school. I didn’t understand my own brain. I couldn’t figure out if I was gay, or straight, or what. I didn’t like the way I looked. I was completely miserable. And when I got sick of being miserable, I started doing drugs to make myself feel better. And it worked. For a while. But then…it ended up making everything worse. And then I got mixed up with the wrong people, my life starting falling apart, one bad thing lead to another and I ended up getting arrested.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say.  This was all a lot to take in.

“So,” he continued, “Now you know the truth. Your parents think I’m a fucking loser and guess what? They’re right.”

“Noah, my parents don’t think you’re a loser,” I consoled, “Well, actually, Tom does but…he’s not even a person, I don’t care what he thinks. And more importantly, I don’t think you’re a loser. But I just wish you would have told me all of this from the beginning.”

“We wouldn’t be sitting here right now if I had,” Noah answered as we pulled onto our street.

“Come on. You really think I’m that judgmental?” I said playfully, trying to elevate some of the tension.

“No. I think you’re good person,” Noah answered, still not smiling, “And good people like you tend to steer clear of people like me.”

“Dude, I’m not THAT good…” I tried to persuade him.

“Yeah, you are,” Noah practically cut me off, “You say a prayer before every bite of food you take. Your best friend is your mom. You’ve never touched a cigarette, let alone any drugs and I bet that traffic stop the closest you’ve ever been to a cop. You are fucking angelic and….you are the opposite of what I am.”

We pulled into the parking lot, the street lights having turned on since the sun set.

“I’m not angelic,” I shrugged as Noah reversed in to his parking space, “And fuck it, even if I am, so what? Opposites attract.”

“Yeah…”Noah sighed, rolling up the windows and turning off his engine, “So….listen…”

“Listening,” I assured him after a very long pause.

 “I….I understand if you’re not down with hanging out with me anymore,” He said, staring at his steering wheel and not at me, “Because…I hid this shit from you when I shouldnt have and…you didn’t sign up to date a scum bag. So. I get it. I wont be offended, really. And I’d rather you just do it now rather than later.”

“Are you serious?” I scoffed.

“I am serious. I won’t blame you,” he said, taking his keys out of the ignition and fiddling with them in his hand.

“Noah…” I sighed, “I don’t…I don’t care about…drugs, or prison, or any of that shit. I just want you to be honest with me. Because I really, really, REALLY, fucking hate liars. ”

He nodded, still staring down at his keys.

“Hey,” I said, putting my hand under his chizzled chin, lifting it up so he could look me in the eyes, “So, starting right now, we are gonna be completely honest with each other. About everything. Okay?”

“Okay,” he replied, forcing himself to half smile.

“Great,” I said, dropping my hand onto his knee, “So. Noah. Honestly. How do you earn money?”

I watched all the momentary joy fade from his face.

“Baby,” his voice cracked, “I can’t tell you that.”

The momentary joy faded from my face as well.

“What did we JUST agree to?! Come on!” I pressured. He folded his arms and stared out the window into the darkness, shaking his head.

“You really want to know?” He asked the window.

“Uh, yeah, that’s why I asked,” I scoffed. He took a deep breath and turned back to face me, taking both of my hands in his.

“Are you sure?” He said, his face very serious.

“Yes,” I assured him. He took a deep breath and began his sentence very slowly.

“I….collect….”

He stopped, his mouth moving with no sound coming out, either trying to find the words or not being able to bring himself to say them. Eventually, he spat it out with an exasperated sigh.

“….welfare.”

I raised my eye brow and cocked my head to the side.

“Welfare?” I repeated. He sat back in his chair, and nodded profusely, seemingly more relaxed now.

“Yeah, I’m on welfare,” He nodded, his body language much less nervous than before, “That’s how I make money. I didn’t want to tell you because it’s embarrassing.”

“Oh…well, that’s not so bad,” I smiled at him, “See? Doesn’t it feel better to be honest?”

He looked out the window, then back at me again.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “So…you’re still down to date me?”

I leaned back and stared up at the ceiling of the car.

“I’ll tell you what,” I answered, looking leftward at him, “If you’re still down to  date a goody-two-shoes, Catholic, mama’s boy with an insane step-father who hates both of our guts….then I am down to date an ex-drug abusing, welfare collecting jailbird-who sucks at giving driving lessons. As long as he promises to find himself a real job. Okay?”

Noah rested his head on the head rest beside mine and slowly let himself smile.

“I don’t suck at driving lessons. You just suck at driving,” He shot back, “But, okay. Deal.”

 I leaned over and gave him a quick kiss before handing him over my speeding ticket.

“And most importantly,” I continued, “Are you still down with paying this fine? Because…you were right, I don’t have any money.”

“Oh! So, you’re still expecting me to pay for everything?” Noah laughed for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Help me, I’m poor,” I frowned pathetically.

“Don’t give me those puppy dog eyes,” Noah said, pinching my cheek, “The entire ride home, you gave me all that shit…”

“You gave me all that shit,” I mocked in a high pitch voice.

“Don’t make fun of me!” He warned, though still smiling.

“Don’t make fun of me,” I repeated.

“Fuck you, pay your own damn ticket,” He scoffed, throwing it back at me and getting out of the car.

“No! Come on!” I said, picking it up and following him out of the car, closing the door behind me and running up behind him and putting my arms around his waist, “You’re the daddy, it’s your duty.”

“Baby, that sounds really weird if you’re not saying it during sex,” He admitted.

“But you can call me Baby outside of sex? That doesn’t seem logical,” I said, lifting myself up on my tippy toes so I could be tall enough to kiss his cheek. I really liked our fake bickering a whole lot more than us actually fighting. That was unpleasant. Hopefully it wouldn’t happen again, especially now with our “All Honestly, All The Time” policy in place.

“Holy shit, you kissed me in public!” He gasped as I let him go, so I could walk beside him, “I guess that forest sex really brought out the rebel in you.”

He opened the door to the apartment for me and let me walk in first.

“Thank you,” I said as I walked in front of him.

“Just so you know, I only open doors for you so I can watch your ass as you walk by,” he admitted, following me in.

“It still hurts,” I sighed as we walked past the elevator, which had been broken for all of eternity.

“Hey…wait a minute,” I said, stopping in front of the elevator doors, staring at it in disbelief. The “Out of Order” sign was gone.

“Oh my god…” Noah said as we stared at it in awe, “Did Tom actually do his job?!”

“No…it can’t be…” I said, pushing the call button.

Amazingly, the doors opened. This was cherry on top of one very weird, great, terrible, fucked up, roller coaster of a day. 

“Hell yeah!” I cheered, as I boarded it, “No more sore legs! No more walking up a million flights of stairs! No more tripping over the shaggy carpet of death! Praise Jesus!”

“Praise him!” Noah exclaimed as he boarded the elevator with me, “I mean, technically we should be praising Tom, but fuck that guy!”

“Fuck that guy!” I cheered as I pushed our floor buttons for us, which we ended up chanting happily all the way up to the third floor.

But maybe we weren’t giving Tom enough credit. There were some aspects of his job he was decent at, like fixing the elevator for example. Or investigating tenant complaints. One instance of such was actually occurring as we rode the newly operational elevator up to our respective floors. Tom was in the basement checking on the furnace and the boilers, after receiving several complaints of over heating in peoples apartments and a foul odor in the air vents. And inside the black metal doors of the dilapidated furnace, that for all intents and purposes should have stayed off until the winter, he found the burnt, partially melted remnants of two plastic, blue, containers.