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“A bit?” Noah mocked me with his maddened glare.
“… he brought me back to his place after I pleaded with him not to call you.”
“Stop making excuses for him!” He fumed. “Evan’s the adult, you’re just a—” He stopped mid-sentence and sighed.
“Just a…?” I was certain he was going to saychild. “Well? Go on. Say it, Noah.”
We stared each other down without blinking. I knew he was raging inside; everything in his body language showed this.
He wants me to comply like a “good girl” and shut up. Well, that ain’t happening.
My heart pounded as Noah closed the gap between us. Every time he was close to me, all I could think about was ripping his shirt off and kissing him.
“You,” he stressed, “are myveryirresponsible teenage daughter, and I’m extremely disappointed in you.”
Something had changed in his eyes; I couldn’t see the ripples of blazing water anymore. The ocean was still again, and eerily lifeless. He looked… hurt.
“Get dressed,” Noah demanded. “I’m taking you home.”
I wanted to argue back and shout at him; to be a drama queen and get under his skin to push him over the edge. But I couldn’t. It was bad enough that he had scolded me in front of Evan. Swallowing my pride, I turned around, and did as I was told.
“Stay away from my daughter, Evan. I mean it.”
“What are you gonna do, get a restraining order?”
“That’s a great idea.”
“She’s my niece!”
“The next time you try to pull a stunt like this as a favor to me, I’ll thank you with my fist!”
Their nonstop arguing was beyond irritating. Marching out of the guestroom, I steeled myself and shouted, “Will you please just stop?”
Noah had this look of horror on his face when he saw what I was wearing: a skimpy club outfit and heels. His jaw dropped. Evan looked amused.
“You worethatlast night?”
“Um, yeah. The club had a dress code, so—”
“I can’t believe you wore that! It’s nearly see through! Every asshole could have swarmed you!”
“I didn’t get swarmed!”
“We’re leaving.” Noah glared at me. “Now.” Grabbing my hand, he faced Evan with a murderous gaze. “Stay out of our lives.”
I mouthed a silent apology to my uncle, just before Noah dragged me down the hallway. Glancing at Evan, he gestured he would call me. I was sick of Noah demonizing him. He wasn’t the bad guy.
??
The ride back home was awkward. I was expecting Noah to let loose and blow up, but he didn’t say a word. There was nothing but this uncomfortable silence between us, and he wasn’t even road raging—not yet, anyway.
It’s the calm before the storm,I despairingly thought.
The stillness was bothering me. Turning on the radio, I switched stations to get a rise out of him. While most people got migraines from “obnoxious” dubstep music, Noah didn’t mind the genre—which I seemed to have forgotten, since he didn’t shut off the stereo. The music had loud, thudding bass, synthesized melodies, and reverberating vocals. Some songs were really mellow and well-paced, and others were darkwith distorted instrumentals. IfTransformerswere to have an orgasm, that’s what dubstep sounded like.
Will you please just say something?
I blasted the song to piss him off. But all he did was lower the volume on his steering wheel. Feeling frustrated, I sat back, watching the passing palm trees from my window. The flicking sound of a lighter caught my attention as I turned my head. Cigarette smoke suddenly wafted into my nostrils.
