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And like a coward, I watch him walk away. I watch him slip out of my reach, both physically and emotionally. I want Noah. If tonight has made anything clear, it’s that I can’t help myself when I’m around him, but I know I have to be strong. My resolve must bend, and my will must not suffer.
Even if he just gave me the best orgasm of my life.
CHAPTER11
NOAH
Finally, I get to do something I like for a change.
As I glide my paintbrush over the blank canvas, a serene sense of peace fills me. I’ve always been able to get lost in my art, lost in the way each stroke builds to something unseen and unknown until it develops in front of me.
Week three of camp is here and that means that all the elective activities have started. Last week, all the kids were grouped together in everything we did, but now they have the chance to branch out into the individual areas they like. I break my eyes away from my canvas, wipe my hands on the rag on my shoulder, and walk around the room. Some of these kids are really good and others…they could use a little practice, but we have all summer for that.
Fuck, since when have I started looking forward to the rest of the summer?
“That’s great…” I blank on the girl’s name whose art I’m checking out. “…kid. Keep going.”
I make my way to the back of the studio so I can watch everyone paint at once when Jarred walks in. Immediately, I tense.
He’s been keeping his distance since I gave him head in the woods, much like he had before then, but I’ve tried to not let it bother me. Sure, maybe I feel a twinge of hurt when he sees me walking and turns in the opposite direction. Yeah, maybe I feel a bit cheap and used when he won’t even look me in the eyes and insist that Kendall handle the communication between us. But the metaphorical ball is in his court. If he wants me, he needs to do something about it. I begged for my parents’ attention all my life, and I’m not about to go through that again.
Jarred stops right behind me, smiling at one of the kids before turning to me. “How is everything?”
I suck at my front teeth and shrug. “Good.”
“Well, that’s…” He trips over his words as he clears his throat, red splotching his neck as he nods. “…that’s good. Keep going.”
He leaves just like that with a little awkward parting exchange, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Thankfully, I can’t stew on what just happened when Ian comes up to me. “Hey, Noah?”
“What’s up?”
“Are you sure I can’t call my parents?” he asks, looking sheepishly over at his terrible-looking painting of an apple. “It’s important.”
“Dude, I’ve told you five times already, no,” I groan. “Write them a letter and mail it to them.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and pouts. “I have, but they haven’t responded yet.”
“That’s because this isn’t Facebook Messenger.” I roll my eyes and walk with him back to his canvas. “It’ll take a bit for them to get back to you.”
“If they ever do…” he mumbles under his breath, but I catch it. He sinks into his seat and hangs his head down, not even looking at his canvas as he lifts his brush and restarts his painting.
“Is everything okay, Ian?” I ask, actually fucking concerned for once. I sigh to myself for being a dick and pull out a seat next to him, careful not to speak too loudly in front of the other campers. “What’s up?”
“I’m fine,” he says stubbornly, not meeting my eyes, but the nervous little twitch in his nose makes me not believe that shit at all. He obviously doesn’t want to talk about it, and I’m not going to push, but I’m going to keep an eye on him from now on.
The rest of the art session goes by well. I walk around and give some critiques in areas kids could improve, and some helpful tips when they ask for them, and I actually feel good about myself as I clean up the art room. When the door opens and closes, I don’t turn around because I have a feeling I know who it is. Jarred’s going to have to do better than some half-assed conversation if he wants to get with me. I turn around to tell him just that and blink when I see it’s Patrick.
He's also been keeping his distance since that night in the woods. I’m still not too sure why he kissed me, but it really wasn’t a big deal to me. I was flattered, not really interested in anything else, but flattered, nonetheless.
I’m a very upfront person. If there’s something that needs to be talked about, I don’t hold back. Sure, it’s gotten me an ass-whooping from my parents in the past, but it’s a habit I can’t break. But I resolve to be patient as Patrick moves from one foot to the other and stares at me.
Obviously, I’m going to have to go first.
“How did your guitar lessons go?” I ask as I dip a bundle of brushes in water. I never pegged Patrick as a guitar player, but I overheard one of his lessons, and he’s actually good.
“Good,” he says. He bites his lip nervously as he fidgets. “Do you need any help?”
“I’ll take it,” I say with a shrug. “The canvases get stacked against that wall. Mine gets locked up in the cabinet.”
