Noah (8 page)

Hopefully, he'd get some rest.

Taking a seat at the desk, I adjusted the chair and flipped open the script. I liked the title,
Catching Stars
, and I hoped it wouldn’t change. It fit the story too well.

I assumed Tennyson envisioned Sophie playing the leading role, 'cause that’s who I pictured. Solid story, sweet but gut-wrenching, about a young woman's hard work and tragic fate. She was on a quest to leave a legacy behind, and some of the lines jumped off the pages. She was mentally ill, so I'd have to do my own research to get a better insight.

There was one scene I could see as a set piece. Done right, it could be in the trailer and sell the whole film.

"Smash cut
," I wrote down and marked off two scenes I wanted connected.
"From Dutch to medium with R. lighting? See how it develops."

I tapped the marker against a word that bothered me. According to the script, they were in a cottage, but it took place in Paris. I'd never seen any cabins or cottages in that city. Instead, I jotted down
"Attic/loft."

"I can't sleep."

I swiveled the chair and looked over at Julian. "Anything I can do?"

He shrugged. Lying on his back, he had his hands planted under his head, and he stared up at the ceiling. "Maybe I need a girlfriend or something."

I snorted a chuckle and rocked back a bit in the chair. A girlfriend wouldn't do much for him. It was the little things I'd noticed. And
he
noticed men when we were out, not women.

Nicky had been miffed when I'd canceled his grocery shopping for us the other day. I was done acting like a fucking child, so Julian and I had gone to the store instead. In fifteen minutes, he had checked out half a dozen asses, and none belonged to a woman.

"Or something," I murmured in response. "But how come you thought of that now?" I smirked. "You need me to leave so you can get your rocks off?"

"What, no!" he spluttered, seemingly appalled I'd say something like that.

The kid cracked me up.

I wondered if it was just around me he acted kinda…prudish. He did strike me as a careful type of guy, but something didn't add up. Not with the piercing, the rather extensive tattoos, and even the smoking, to a degree. Part of me believed he was only putting up a front because he and I were still new to one another. As if he were testing the waters first to see where he had me.

Julian scowled up at the ceiling again. "Jesus Christ, I was talking about cuddling—intimacy like that. Why do you think I want to get a pet? To stare at it all day?"

I smiled widely, finding him endearing as fuck. And I hoped I wouldn’t freak him out 'cause he was about to learn I didn't care much for social boundaries.

Turning off the light, I capped my marker and left the desk behind for the bed.

"All right, I'm not a hot broad," I chuckled and sat down on the bed, "nor am I a pet, but…" I leaned back against the headboard and used the corner of his duvet to bunch up a pillow for him on my thigh. "There. Use me as your pillow. I'll play Scrabble on my phone." He was about to prattle off some lame protest, so I stopped him. "Don't give me any of that shit. Wanting comfort ain't fucking reserved for women and children, and it's barely been two months since we lost everyone."

He closed his mouth at that, and he swallowed hard as he lowered his gaze. A moment later, his head followed, carefully coming to a rest on my thigh.

"There we go." I instinctually drew my fingers through his hair. It was soft as hell, all silky and not unlike what women paid too much money to accomplish. Or maybe that had just been Emma.

It didn't take long for Julian to doze off this time.

Chapter 8

That night, we went over to Tennyson and Sophie's for dinner. They were tired and said they'd rather stay in, and when I suggested we do it tomorrow, Sophie got huffy. So Julian and I headed across the hall at around seven, and she ordered Thai from our favorite place.

Sophie and Julian could probably sense Tennyson and I wanted to discuss the script, so she happily dragged Julian into the kitchen. I felt for the guy. He was about to face an inquisition.

In the meantime, Tennyson and I sat down in the living room with the script, my notes, and two sleepy kids. Ivy was on my lap, but she was dead on her feet, so it didn't bother me one bit.

Kayden clung on his dad's back while watching cartoons on the flat screen.

"I'm really pleased you wanna do this, Noah." Tennyson scanned my notes, occasionally nodding to himself. "Asher sent the script to me, but when I read it, I didn't see the story. I tried, mind you. I tried for a goddamn week because it's spectacular."

I agreed and drank some beer. Ivy asked if she could have some, to which I grinned and said when she turned eighteen.

"So what did you see?" I asked him.

He hummed, still reading. "You and a small crew. Digital shooting to save time and money."

Digital shooting was common practice today, but Tennyson was old school. Even though he was only in his late forties, his preferences made him archaic. He liked watching the dailies at the end of the day on set, going through the film, and sitting in his trailer and making notes and marks.

He looked up at me. "I think you could do a lot with a little."

I smirked wryly and threw a common industry quote at him. "'We can do it good, we can do it cheap, we can do it fast. Any two, but not all three.'"

"Smartass." He chuckled warmly and shook his head. "I'm well aware, thank you. But regardless, you can do it cheaper than I ever could. Your technique differs vastly from mine."

True. Because, digital era.

"Any locations you have in mind?" I wondered.

He inclined his head. "Paris and LA."

Fantastic.

"Inserts and flyovers in Paris or more than that?"

"Everything that takes place outside the…" He flipped a page in the script and smiled. "Loft or attic. And I agree. The writer might be brilliant, but this is Paris, not the English countryside." He faced me again. "The only thing I need to know as soon as possible is your schedule."

"Wide open here," I replied. "What does Sophie's schedule look like?"

He grinned. "You see her, too. I was hoping you would."

I chuckled and took another swig of my beer. "Seemed to me the part was practically written for her." Aside from age. The character was twenty-five, but Sophie hadn't turned thirty yet, and she looked young. It wasn’t an issue.

"There is one thing," Tennyson said, sounding hesitant now. "Sophie wants to cast Kayden as the son, and I'm on the fence. He fits the description, but this is more than cherry-picking a child off the streets. We compromised, and I told her he could read for the part."

I reached over to Kayden and poked his side. "You wanna be an actor like Mommy, huh?"

He smiled and shrugged.

Tennyson gave me a pointed look.

Fair enough.

*

During dinner, Sophie wanted to know everything there was to know about Julian's love for music. Instruments he played, genres he enjoyed, aspirations, experience, studies, and so on. But it was good. Evidently I only knew half of it, so I learned something new, too.

The kids had already eaten, according to their folks, so they remained on the couch to watch a movie while the rest of us devoured our meals at the dining room table. Sophie knew me well, plenty of vegetarian options, and I shot Julian a smug look every time he opted for those instead of meat.

"Will you give it a rest?" he bitched quietly, though he sucked at containing his mirth. "I never said vegetarian food was gross."

I was just fucking with him. I'd stuffed my face with shrimp minutes ago, and I was hardly one to convert people.

"You're such a shit stirrer, Noah," Sophie told me.

I frowned with a mouth full of food. "That’s nothing new, babe. You can do better."

Sophie pointed a fork at me while addressing Julian. "How do you put up with that? I adore the man—he's one of my best friends—but to
live
with him? Sweet Jesus."

I blew her a kiss as Tennyson and Julian had fun at my expense.

It was a safe choice, though, playfully picking on someone in the group to relax the newcomer. I sent Sophie a brief glance of gratitude, and she winked.

"So, Julian." It was Tennyson's turn, I guessed. "Do you write your own music, too?"

"Sometimes, yes." Julian nodded. "Noah's been trying to get me to use his new baby grand."

"Well, since this morning, you're actually obligated," I drawled.

He rolled his eyes, but fuck that. Learning that he wrote original stuff made me wanna hear him play again even more. The memorial service didn't count.

"You bought a piano?" Sophie cocked her head, her gaze flicking between me and Julian. "You don't play…do you? No, I would have known."

"
He
plays." I emptied half a container of rice on my plate. "He's worked better for me than Xanax or whatever else a head-fucker would've prescribed me, so it was the least I could do."

Sophie appeared torn between giggles and amusement. "That’s…one of the sweetest and weirdest things I've ever heard from you."

"That’s me. Sweet and weird." I grinned and sat back, draping an arm along the back of Julian's chair. "So enough about us. How was vacation?"

*

It'd been great catching up with my friends, and I was glad Julian seemed to fit in well, but the day caught up with me fairly early. When we'd returned to the loft, my mood had crashed, and I'd retired for the night. But now I was staring at nothing, unable to sleep.

I wasn't restless, though. I was tired as fuck, my mind all but groggy and slow, yet something was up. My gut twisted with unease, and I hoped I wouldn’t have a night of bad dreams to look forward to.

The sound of soft piano music made me sit straight up in the darkness. It was faint, but I heard it. I collapsed down against the mattress again and reached for my phone to check the time.

Almost midnight.

I had a text from Sophie, too.

I'm so happy for you, Noah. We're always here, don't forget that, but I think this is amazing. You've both come far since the memorial, and it was super great to see how close you've become. Love you bunches.

I smiled faintly and brushed my thumb over the screen. Were Julian and I that close? Maybe. I hadn't really thought about it. She could be right, though. I didn't even wanna imagine what my life would look like if Julian hadn't come here. Jesus fucking Christ, I'd most likely still be living at the bottom of a bottle.

I appreciate it, you mush cake. Thanks for tonight, good to have you home. What do you mean by me and Julian being close?

He and I hadn't interacted that much, hence my question. It'd mainly been Sophie who had quizzed him.

Putting aside my phone again, I closed my eyes and concentrated on whatever Julian was playing in the living room. It was somber, tinged with something I could only describe as pain. Akin to hopelessness or a sense of being dragged down. But every now and then, he went off on a lighter tangent.

He was good.

My phone vibrated on the nightstand, so I guessed Sophie was still awake. Having traveled all day, she should've fallen asleep at dinner.

I can't put my finger on it. You're just very aware of each other, and I can tell you're protective of him. It's sweet. I'm off to bed, but we'll have to catch up more soon! Mwah!

Protective, huh? All right, then.

As I got comfortable on my back again, Julian's music was lulling me closer to sleep. I scratched my chest absently.

Maybe we'd take a day off from running tomorrow. A lazy Saturday morning in bed didn't sound half bad. I could get bagels from the coffee shop down the street. I'd force the kid to play more of his music while I continued studying the script.

I sighed.

Fuck it if I wasn't getting attached to him, and it was different from loving my niece and nephew. JJ and Linda had been kids. Actual kids. Julian was grown-up, and we had more in common. We were equals, which I supposed played a big role.

Eventually, the music faded to a close. I didn't hear him pad closer on the hardwood floor, but I waited for the sound of his door opening and shutting.

The unease was back in my stomach. I had no fucking clue why.

It'd been a good day.

Moments later, it was my door that opened.

A floorboard creaked, and then the bed dipped with his weight, and yeah, this was strangely right. The unease faded like his music had, and I stretched out my arm.

"I'm glad you played," I murmured sleepily.

"I'm obligated." There was a grin in his voice, and I smirked to myself as he settled in. His pillow ended up on top of my arm, and he scooted as close as he dared.

"Stand-in pet reporting for duty." I yawned and drew him closer so I could put an arm over his middle. His T-shirt was threadbare and soft, and I was thankful for the barrier. With my luck and the way I sometimes tossed and turned, I'd tear off his nipple piercing in my sleep if he'd slept bare-chested like I did.

He laughed softly, his breath hitting my sternum, and burrowed his arms and hands into my chest. They were fucking freezing.

"The piano made of ice?" I grumbled.

"Yes."

"I can tell." I smiled into his hair, ignoring the faint warning bells going off. I wasn't stupid; I knew this wasn't normal, but our lives weren't fucking normal. Not anymore. "Sleep. No workout tomorrow."

"Thank fuck," he whispered. "Good night."

"Night, icicle."

*

It became somewhat of a routine. Whenever we needed closeness to ward off nightmares and anxiety, we sought each other out and shared a bed. It was indescribably comforting not to be alone, and it worked, too. Maybe too well.

I was decent at ignoring those warning bells, but it came back to bite me in the ass.

One night was anything but peaceful. Around three AM, I bolted out of bed with my heart pounding, a ringing noise in my ears, and horror coursing through me.

"Take it." I pushed my cock in and out of his tight ass, and he moaned, caught between me and a wall. "Fuck, so perfect."

He begged for more. I covered his mouth with my hand so the others wouldn’t hear us.

Bile rose in my throat, and I rushed to the bathroom across the hallway. Nothing came up, but I heaved over and over.

New nightmare. A vivid one. I couldn’t get the images out of my head.

"Please let me come," he moaned as I reached around to stroke him. He was hard and smooth in my hand, and I wanted to taste. "Oh God, Noah…"

"Shhh, be quiet," I whispered. Our family was downstairs, for chrissakes. "Can't fucking get enough."

I shuddered and spat into the toilet before standing up. My heart wouldn't fucking calm down. I felt sick to my stomach with revulsion.

What's wrong with me?

I fisted my hair and squeezed my eyes shut.

Even I had limits.

Going to the living room, I ended up pacing for ages. I'd never been good at stewing in my own shit, though. I needed to bounce off ideas and interact. I needed someone to tell me I wasn't a goddamn head case.

I felt bad, but after about an hour or so, I was only working myself up more. I'd make it up to him, but I needed to talk.

The nausea came back as I snuck into my room to grab a pair of basketball shorts and a T-shirt. Julian slept peacefully on my pillow. If only he knew what I'd dreamed.

I promptly left and grabbed my phone on the way.

Once outside the loft, I scrolled down my phone to Tennyson's number and called him.

Come on, man.

He answered on the third ring. "Noah?"

"Yeah, sorry to wake you up." I was a fucking tool. "Mind coming out and talking to me for a minute?"

There was some rustling in the background as he got out of bed. "Uh, yeah. Of course. Be right there." He hung up, and I returned to pacing.

I was assaulted with more memories from the dream, and it made my skin crawl.

I kissed him, groaning in pleasure. My hands couldn’t stay away. I'd never needed someone this desperately in my goddamn life.

Tennyson opened the door and stumbled out, rubbing his eyes from sleep. "What's wrong?"

"
I
am," I replied. I ran a hand through my hair and blew out a breath, frustrated with myself. Disgusted. "Sorry again for waking you up."

He waved it off and yawned. "When I say you can call me anytime, I actually mean it. So what's bothering you? Nightmares?"