Soulmates (13 page)

A few minutes later we sat back on the sofa, nursing two cold bottles of beer from his fridge. I curled my legs under myself and watched Noah struggle. It was amusing seeing him so wound up, a nice power reversal. I took a cautious sip and waited for him to start speaking.

He was staring into his beer intently, watching the bubbles foam. Then he tilted his head back, poured half of it down his throat, put the bottle down and turned to me.

“You ready for the monologue then?” His eyebrows rose.

“Nobody actually talks in monologues in real life,” I replied. “Movies completely underestimate a human’s need to interrupt and ask questions.”

Another gorgeous smile. Making Noah smile was quickly becoming my new favourite pastime.

“Okay, I won’t monologue.”

“Good.”

“I’m nervous.”

I pushed him, playfully. “Just get on with it.”

So he took a deep breath and he did.

“I guess you’re wondering where my family is.” He took another deep gulp of beer.

“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t.”

“Well, they don’t live with me.”

“Why?”

Noah spoke for a long time then. He told me they’d moved to Middletown two years ago. His dad owned a successful software business which had made millions – multi-millions. His mother was a housewife. Both of them were very English, stiff-upper-lip types, very repressed.

Noah was their only child. Their everything.

“It’s why I’m so full of it,” he said, smiling wryly. “I was told I was amazing every day. It kind of rubs off after a while.”

So Mr. Rich, Mrs. Rich and their prodigal son moved to Suburban Hell (i.e. Middletown) so Noah’s dad could set up a new office. But within a couple of days, Noah got sick.

“I can’t explain it very well. But I woke up one day and I couldn’t get out of bed. Every emotion disappeared. I felt empty. Hollow. I wasn’t even capable of feeling scared of what was happening to me. Mum came into my bedroom to wake me for school but I wouldn’t move. I didn’t talk to her. I couldn’t.”

I took his hand.

“They were good at first. They let me have a few days off and took me to the doctors. They paid for the very best and I got rushed through the system. I think they thought it was a minor blip, something they could fix swiftly, like a software hiccup. So when I didn’t get better, they, um, didn’t handle it very well.”

I watched him relive the memory, his lip curled in disapproval. “It was depression, wasn’t it?” I asked softly.

He turned to me. “How on earth do you know that?”

“Everyone knows.”

He looked freaked out. “What? Everyone?”

I tried to calm him, stroking his hand. “Well, not
everyone
, but my journalist friend told me.”

“Jesus, that girl knows everything.”

“I don’t think you should worry. It’s not done your reputation any harm. In fact, it’s just made you even more irresistible. Now you’re, like, a project. Damaged, vulnerable, yadda yadda – girls love it. Excellent pulling method. I assumed you’d spread it around yourself to get more female attention.”

Thankfully he smiled. I wasn’t sure I was saying the right thing, but I hoped I was doing okay. I got the sense I was being let in somewhere other girls hadn’t been before.

“Yeah – well, maybe I did tell a few girls to get attention.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“It’s wrong though. It’s not anything to boast about. It takes over your life.”

I squeezed his hand in encouragement. “What happened next?”

He started talking again and I began to feel sick. His parents hadn’t been able to handle his moods, told him to pull himself together and to stop letting the family down.

“It’s such a broken record really,” Noah said. “The falling of the prodigal son. It was fine when I was on a high. I was charming, lively, the boy they loved again. But I got these huge bouts of depression and they couldn’t cope with those at all.

“Eventually they decided they weren’t going to ‘indulge’ me any more. That’s actually the word they used. They bought me this flat, moved to London, and told me I needed to grow up and learn how to be on my own.”

My thoughts went to my own mother. Her concerned face, her constant need for “chats” in the kitchen, and those cheques she couldn’t quite afford made out to Dr. Ashley. I realized silently just how lucky I was.

“Is that legal?” I asked, not sure what else to say.

Noah shrugged. “I dunno. I’m over sixteen, so I guess so.”

“Then what happened?” I asked, although I sensed what was coming next.

“Well, I went a little crazy. What else do you expect? I dropped out of college, had loads of parties and became the ‘man-whore of Babylon’, as you put it.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s true. I was…well…it was shameful. It’s not an excuse but my confidence was screwed. I’d gone from being adored my whole life to being shut up in a top-floor flat, left alone. Girls had always liked me…”

I made a face.

“Come on! They had. And I’d never really exploited that before. But, when my parents left, I had so much spare time…just all to myself. And I started going out…and it’s really pathetic-sounding, but I needed the attention. I wanted to feel good about myself again and I stupidly thought sleeping around was the way to do it. Then I would feel gross with myself afterwards and never call the girl again – and start looking for someone else.”

I got that twinge again. The one that had been burdening me all day. Insecurity. Mixed with a little jealousy. And anger on behalf of girlkind. I brushed it aside, for now anyway. I would no doubt torture myself later when I was trying to sleep.

“But things got better,” Noah continued. “I got the band together and that’s made things easier. They were the first friends I made here, and being part of a group again helped. I see them most days, they take the piss out of me, we joke around. It’s nice. It’s normal. Music helps unbelievably. I’ve always played, my dad taught me how. But, with nothing else left, music became my life and something to construct my day around. I got some of my confidence – okay, my cockiness – back.” He fixed me with an intense stare. “And then of course I met you…”

The sun was setting through the large bay windows and it cast Noah in a golden light. His head was lit from behind and it looked almost as if he had a halo. I willed myself to stare back at him.

“Seriously, Poppy, when I met you it was crazy. I saw you in the crowd and it was like everyone else went out of focus. I didn’t know that happened in, like, you know, real life.”

I remembered that first explosive eye contact.

“I didn’t care that the gig was ruined. I barely noticed that my amp had blown up. I was just thinking, ‘Oh my God, I have to meet that girl.’”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah right.”

“I promise.” He ran his fingers through his hair again and looked exasperated. “Honestly, I cannot tell you how brilliant it was when Ruth came up and I realized you were friends.”

I remembered how awful I’d felt when I’d seen them together. It was wonderful to see it from his point of view. Like the expectation of how life should be was, for once, matching reality.

“Oh please no,” I groaned. “I don’t want to relive what happened next.”

Noah gave me a wry grin. “You yelled at me.”

I covered my eyes with my hands. “Do we have to go into this? I was so, so embarrassed afterwards.”

“Why? For what you said? You were right to say it. Listening to you yell at me was the best thing I’d ever heard. I suddenly saw myself through someone else’s eyes and saw what a prick I was. I mean, it was horrendous. You completely destroyed me and continue to do so. But your character assassination is what I needed to hear. And now I know, with or without you, I’m never going to be that person again. I’m never going to use my slightly shitty upbringing as an excuse for being a jerk. So thank you, Poppy. I owe you a lot.”

The sun was almost gone and the room glowed red like the dying embers of a fire. I sat, not talking, and felt the hand holding Noah’s grow warmer as he stroked the inside of my thumb.

“Why did you tell me all this?” I asked.

“I just needed to let you know everything.” He looked nervous. “So you could, you know, get out if you wanted.”

I gently stroked the side of Noah’s face, surprised at how naturally it came to be intimate with him. His eyes searched mine for an answer.

“I don’t want out,” I said.

He broke into another heart-palpitation-inducing grin and squeezed both my hands tight.

“I was hoping you were going to say that.”

We sat and watched the sunset reflecting on the cool blue of his living room walls. My head was nestling just above Noah’s armpit and my legs were sprawled over his lap. He asked about my life and my panic attacks and I didn’t feel ashamed telling him about them. In fact, for the first time, I felt I’d found someone who properly understood what it was like to lose control of your mind like that. He asked about college, what A levels I was doing, all the usual stuff.

There wasn’t our usual piss-taking that evening. I think both of us were aware we were on the brink of something unusual happening. Something for keeps, rather than another “short-shelf-life” relationship. I felt overwhelmed by everything. My feelings for him, how my body responded to him. I kept feeling the words “I think I love you” bubble in my throat and it terrified me. These were words I’d scorned only minutes before, and now, so quickly, I felt them in me. And with them came the crippling fear that I was about to take a leap of faith, put my heart on a line with a high stamping-on risk. Rejection. Hurt. Humiliation. They all potentially came with those words. Part of me wanted to run home, bury myself under my duvet, and spend time alone analysing everything, finding something I could be cynical about. But the urge to stay with Noah was overpowering. Every part of me wanted to be touching him. Always. So when we saw it was dark and time I went home, I felt crappy.

I waited for him to lock his door, marvelling again at just how, well, fit he was. We left the flat and started walking to my house, occasionally bathed by the artificial glow of street lights along the way. I soon noticed the intervals between street lights were increasing. The pavement was getting rougher, and we were walking into almost complete darkness.

Finally I realized this wasn’t the way home. I’d been so distracted by the way his hand felt in mine, how good it was, that I hadn’t noticed we were on a bit of a detour.

“Where are we going?” I asked, barely able to make Noah out in the dark.

He squeezed my hand tight. “Shh. We’re almost there.”

“Almost where? I thought you were taking me home?” I wasn’t scared exactly, but apprehensive and disorientated.

The pavement under my feet was replaced by a narrow muddy path lined with brambles. The darkness delayed it a bit but I slowly got my bearings.

“Are we…?”

“Haven’t you been on top of Middletown Common at night before?” he asked, guessing I’d figured it out.

I shook my head. “Isn’t it full of flashers and drunks at night?”

He laughed. “Poppy, this is Middletown. Crime rates are zero. It’s always empty here at night. I don’t know why though, the view is amazing. Hang on.”

An eerie glow appeared at the top of the path and we walked towards it. I stumbled and Noah’s hand pulled me up without effort.

“Look. We’re here.”

And the view was so beautiful it made me drop his hand.

I’d never been here in the dark before. Lord knows how many times I had sat up here and looked at the view. But now it was like looking at a completely different place. The moonlight on the grass made it look silver, and beyond that a multitude of yellow spots stretched on for ever into the night. It was where I lived: Middletown. But I’d never seen it like this before. It was a sea of light, all different colours. I could see the yellow lights from people’s windows, the white glow of office lights left on by careless nine-to-fivers, the blips of red car lights driving away to more exciting places.

I felt my way to my favourite bench and leaned back.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, as Noah came and sat next to me.

“I know. I always come up here at night when I feel, well, when I feel like being all deep and meaningful.”

“You are such a stereotypical band member.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“You’re going to tell me your favourite book is
A Clockwork Orange
next.”

“Nope. It’s
The Wasp Factory
.”

I groaned. “Even worse.”

Noah’s face looked pale in the moonlight. He casually swung an arm round my back as we sat looking. I could almost taste the energy coming from his body. I wanted him to touch me so much that I ached. He tilted his head and fixed me with another special look.

“So,” he said, “do you still not believe in love?”

I sighed, not wanting to admit I felt I could fall for him; that I’d already fallen for him, like a stupid lovesick puppy with no self-control.

“Is that why you brought me here, to the romantic lights of suburbia?” I said, my voice sarcastic to cover my emotion. “To make a convert out of me?”