Fic: The Interview (Luke/Noah AU) (Part 3)
Title: The Interview (Part 3)
Author: nouveau_monday
Pairing: Noah/Luke
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word Count: 3.7kish
Summary: Noah finds a new location and tries to return something Luke left behind.
Spoilers: This is completely AU for the boys. So yeah, any relation to the story line is minor. Facts I kept were the Colonel, Noah's mom, and Oakdale. Other characters resemble themselves, but everyone, by definition is not quite him/her self.
Disclaimer: As I said, this is AU. The characters belong to CBS and P&G and possibly others, but definitely not me. That is the real travesty of all of this.
Notes: Thank you so much to mightyten for being a great beta, especially when I whine all the time. And she's ridiculously busy. And she still did this. Because she rocks. And also elin_aurora who saved me during my time of need.
Noah stumbles into Java. "Coffee, black." He grabs the barista behind the counter by his noxious green shirt. "And seriously, I mean black like burned, the way you usually do it, no cream, no sugar, no nutmeg, no weird spoons dipped in chocolate or any of that other girly shit. Coffee. Make that two. Extra large. Both to go." He slaps a ten on the counter. "If they're at my table within the next five minutes, I'll double that money. If the lids are on and I can bolt out the door, so much the better. I'm desperate, man. Please." Apparently he looks psychotic enough, because the guy behind the counter nods like one of those big-headed bobble head toys and scurries away to the coffee pots. Noah scrubs his hands over his face, slams his body into a chair and throws his hoodie over his hair. Hidden like that, he's fairly confident that people will leave him the fuck alone. At least they will if they know what's good for them.
The coffees slide onto the table in their little cardboard tray. The smell wafts through the thick poly-cotton blend of his sweatshirt. Maybe today will be better than the last two? He smiles near on beatifically at the barista. "Thanks, man. I'm sorry I was such a dumb-ass queen over there. No caffeine in a couple days. Makes me all crazy and shit." He peels another ten from the black wallet he's plied from his back pocket. "Really. I'm sorry. But I'll go before I scare any of your other customers away."
The already confused college boy looks more confused as he stutters out a thanks and gets the money into his pocket quick. Noah rolls his eyes. He hasn't been that young since, well, since forever. How are they possibly letting people go to college like that? So unprepared for assholes like himself. It doesn't seem right.
Noah swallows the first bitter sip with his eyes closed. The heat spills down his throat and spreads across his lungs. He thinks he could find religion in the nervous hand of the early morning coffee boy. Whoever the kid is, he always makes it a bit too strong and burns it more than Noah imagines most sane people would like. The second and third gulps go down smoother. He feels warm, finally.
It's freezing outside Java and this blissful cup of coffee, not for the first time, Noah wonders how the fuck he wound up here. Oakdale fucking Illinois. Why had his mom come here, of all places? Not that doctors and professors didn't pay well to get their rocks off, but surely she could have found clients anywhere. He'd seen a picture of her once, before the Colonel had destroyed it. Whatever the reason, what was done was done. Noah found her gravestone and a corner and now he needed a new one. Yo's is not an option for more than another seventy-two hours. Long enough to tell the semi-regulars he'd moved somewhere new and make sure they had his number. Short enough that dumb kids won't try to find him.
Noah frowns into his coffee. The air feels strange outside of the apartment he hasn't wanted to leave. Luke hasn't tried to see him, at his alley, Java, or at his apartment. The tape recorder remains on the bedside table. Noah knows he should buy new batteries for it. They must be almost dead after recording the entire night. He wonders if Luke meant to embed everything, including Noah's spectacular freak out, on the tape? Probably not. Purchasing sex is as illegal as selling it. Kid is a naive pain in the ass, but he doesn't strike Noah as stupid.
He clutches his first cup in his hands, downs the last third in one long pull. Noah stands, slinks over to the counter oozing as much sexual promise as he can find. The boy behind the counter has definitely noticed. "Hey kid, you work here often? I see you almost every morning. Do you only do AM hours?"
Coffee boy twitches, stutters. "No?"
"It's not a trick question. Not gonna get you in trouble. Your coffee is my favorite. It's strongest." Noah smiles, stares boldly into his barista's eyes to cover the bald faced lie he's about to say. He worries his tongue stud across his bottom lip. Distraction never hurts either. "Talked to this guy here a couple days ago. Thought I might look him up. Kinda messy blonde hair. Wears stripes a lot. Really brown eyes? Mouth made to give head? This sound familiar at all? Said his name was Jake, or Matt, maybe Paul? One syllable, definitely." Another pass of metal across his tongue, a promise of something never going to happen.
"Luke? You mean Luke Snyder, don't you? Sure, who doesn't know him? He's been practically living here when he's not at Yo's." The kid behind the counter frowns. "Luke's a nice guy. What do you want with him?"
Noah shrugs, doesn't meet his eyes. "We were talking, and he accidentally left something with me when he left. Don't know how to reach him. Wondered if I could bring it by later? Maybe you could pass it back to him? You could share a drink with me?" Noah blocks out the pain in his stomach. He has no business flirting with some guy who probably can't buy his own drinks yet.
The kid smiles. "You got a thing for Luke? That's cute. Man, everyone seems to want him." He scans up and down Noah's body. "Luke usually dates a little more jock, or, I don't know, hipster. Never seen him go for punks or goths. But what the hell, right?" He smiles. "Everyone needs variety." Coffee boy wipes his hands on the towel at his hip. "The name's Roth. Me and Luke go back to freshman year. Met him during orientation. He likes his coffee with extra milk and sugar." Roth rolls his eyes. "I still haven't broken him of the habit."
Noah laughs. "Tell me he doesn't always drink those awful candy coated caramel-hazelnut-macadamia-chocolate things with whipped cream and sprinkles that pretend to be coffee?"
Roth winks, grins. "I'll keep that and the fact that you tried to hit on me to get dirt on him quiet." Noah flushes, hates his pale skin as he feels the heat course over his cheeks. "Also," Roth continued. "I should warn you that he's been mooning over some guy since forever it seems like. At least October. I thought maybe he'd finally manned up and done something about it earlier, but he's back to moping." He glances at his watch. "I'll be here for the late afternoon rush. Any time after 2, but probably 3 or 4 is better."
"Thanks, umm, Roth," Noah says, trying out his barista's name. "I, umm, it's not like that. I just, I should get this thing back to him." Noah wraps his hoodie tighter around him, yanks the hood up and over his head, almost covering his eyes.
"Whatever you say, Man. Check ya later. I'll save some of the good stuff for when you come back."
Noah roams over Oakdale around lunchtime, tape recorder jammed in his pocket so he can ditch it as soon as possible. The alley - his alley, damn it - is still the best location. He thinks maybe that a spot near the hospital might do. EMTs are usually more than willing to fuck away the violence, the blood, the everything they see every day. It's almost like I'm doing a public service. Noah snorts, doubts that would fly if he were to get busted again. Still, there's a 24/7 convenience store near it, so he can grab all the essentials if he needs them. Noah rolls his shoulders. What he should buy are gloves and a real jacket, but lube, condoms, and cheap coffee seem somehow more important when hooking.
He wanders back, finds himself on the Oakdale U campus feeling slightly better about his new spot. At least not put out to be leaving his alley. Hopefully he could pick up a few more regulars.
Students pour out of the buildings, scramble to others and out of the cold. Noah smiles. He's got an hour and a half before he ditches the tape recorder with Roth. Noah follows a gaggle of students into the Media Arts building, and into a larger lecture hall. The best, and most oblivious, professors seem to teach in the film department. He grabs a seat in the back, near the door.
The professor, one Noah vaguely recognizes from other stealth-audits he's done, stands at a podium talking to a woman. The woman is a tiny blonde thing, reminding Noah a bit of a Min Pin an ex-client of his had; cute but fierce, with no sense and barely a foot tall. Noah forgot the pen and notebook he usually carries to blend in. He scans the auditorium and figures he's safe.
Fifty minutes later, Noah rises from his seat to give this Katie person the credit she deserves. He applauds with the students. Fewer than five minutes in to her talk, Noah realized he had seen her on Oakdale Now or whatever it was called. Never in a million years would he have pictured her as driven and dynamic. She always seemed so vapid on camera.
Noah ignores the first couple of questions gushed from the audience. Katie, you're an inspiration! and What's it like to work with your husband? and Jesus, why didn't someone just ask her bra size and be done with it? Noah raises his eyebrow, appraises her body with practiced ease, probably no more than a 34B anyway.
A voice from the front of the room interrupts him. "Is WOAK participating in the internship program in conjunction with Oakdale U?" Noah's body responds to the question even before his mind catches up. How the fuck did he manage to wander into Luke fucking Snyder's class?
"Hey Luke, glad to see you're still interested in WOAK." She offers a flirty smile down from her place by the podium and Noah stifles an urge to kick her in the head. Katie goes on to address everyone. "It is true that the station will be participating. We'll be looking for three to five interns. Before anyone asks, yes, we will pay, and yes, that pay will suck. You'll be interns. Deal with it. The applications will be at the station starting Friday. Deadline is the end of March. All final decisions will be made by the first of May. That should give you time to defer schools or change plans if you wanted to leave Oakdale." She raises her hand over the rumble of voices. "The first two rounds of weed outs are anonymous. We won't be able to be involved in the process if we know the finalists." She winks down into the front row. "Sorry Luke, Reg, but you gotta get this on your own merit."
"No worries, Katie. We will." A shiver slices down Noah's back at the determination he remembers hearing in his bed just a few days before. He dashes for the door, lets it slam behind him, heedless of the spectacle he makes of himself.
Noah flies toward Java like the cops are on him. Roth's tall, gangly form is visible through the window, like a lighthouse beacon. Noah gasps in breath unsuccessfully at the door. Rich hot air clashes with the chill in his lungs. He wedges himself into the darkest table in the furthest corner and waits for his blood to slow within his veins. Noah counts to ten in German - Eins, Zwei, Drei - and begins to regain his center.
"Hey, you okay? Came in like the hounds of Hell were on you." Roth slides an extra large to go cup under Noah's nose. "If you wait about ten minutes, you can return whatever Luke left to him personally. He'll be out of class any minute now. Texted me to tell me he was on his way over here."
"No." Noah grips the cup hard enough to pop the lid off. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be so loud. He, uhh, wouldn't want to see me again. Trust me." He wriggles his hand into the pocket of his jeans. "I'm sure he's been lost without it." Noah palms the mini-recorder one last time, should feel bad about the duplicates he made of the tape and instead berates himself for being lame. He slams the machine down on the table, shoves it at Roth like it's soaked in acid. "Just make sure he gets it, would you?" Noah stands.
"Holy shit." Roth clamps onto Noah's wrist. "Jesus. You're the guy, aren't you? I mean, shit, I can't believe you've been storming in here five days a week since the beginning of the year and I never put two and two together." He laughs, but doesn't let go. "All this time we've been talking about the same guy. Jesus, I'm an idiot."
"You're something, alright. Get your hand off me. Nobody touches me unless I fucking say they can. And you don't have that kind of cash." His voice is quiet now, but Noah assumes that he's made himself clear. He shakes his suddenly freed wrist. "That's better. Now, can you give the tape recorder to your precious Luke? Or should I find another way to get it to him?"
Roth crosses his arms over his green Java shirt, leans back, tips the chair. He surveys Noah. "How did you know to ask about him here?"
"Dude, you don't get to ask me questions when you accosted me." Noah should leave, trust that the recorder will get to Luke and go.
"That's not an answer, that's an evasion. You tell me how you know, I'll tell you what I was talking about. Only, you gotta talk first."
Noah wants nothing more than to punch his overly cocky morning barista in the mouth. "Are we twelve here? Gonna double dare me?"
"If I have to." Roth is calm. His eyes remain firmly on Noah. "Look, Luke's one of my best friends. You're some mystery guy Luke's got the biggest hard on for. You appear out of nowhere, treat me like a bad case of jock itch most of the time, and then you have these mood swings where you're all nice and generous. Actually, you're always generous. Great tips. Thanks, man." He shakes his head. "But that's not the point. The point is you. What gives? Who are you?"
It's too much information for Noah to process. Roth's words spin in this strange jumble of sound and images that don't add up.
He'd been in Oakdale since September, hitched with some random sophomores who had more money than sense, but at least didn't ask questions. The small month-to-month apartment had been easy to get and the alley fell into place before the first month's rent was due.
Noah liked working college towns. Closeted professors and easy access buildings with heat and no ID required. No one noticed when he sat in on bigger classes. Heck, he'd even allowed himself to debate with a professor or two before sneaking out a side door. Not to mention the occasional frat boy trying to find an answer to his life's desire in a drunken homo fuck.
The coffee in the quaint little collection of old town storefronts kept Noah functioning and he liked to watch the people who came and went. Sometimes, though he was loathe to admit it, he dreamed about being a normal college student with no worries other than finals and student loans.
Those dreams crystallized in the casual laughter of a messy haired blonde guy who almost always wore stripes. Over the next couple of months, Noah had filled in gaps about the guy. He drank tea in the morning while he tapped away on a laptop. Everyone seemed to know him, patted his shoulder, stopped to say hi. Nothing but small talk about the weather or the local news. Noah started to wonder if anyone really knew the guy or if they all thought he was just a pretty face.
They'd bumped into each other, literally, at the entrance to Yo's one night. Noah about to blow some frat boy in the bathroom, Luke on his way to some place else. Luke had smelled good; clean and outdoorsy, but like a farmer, not a lumberjack. He had offered his really strong hand and this smile. God, that mouth. He'd watched him chew on enough plastic stirrers while he drank his tea, but up close and personal? Those lips were made to suck cock. Noah was sure he must have blushed, but he also knew that he only had so much time or dumb frat boy would become belligerent and that could mean beatings or cops, and certainly not getting paid. He needed to make bank.
"Hi. Sorry about that. My fault."
"Don't sweat it, kid. Just quit staring at your feet. You could miss something." Noah remembered winking, probably licked his upper lip, flashed a bit of metal. But then he'd split toward the bathroom and the moment was gone.
Roth snaps. "Hey. Where'd you go?"
Noah shakes his head. "Nowhere. Just thinking. Really, you're making a big deal out of nothing. I'm just some guy that your friend Luke ran into some afternoon. We had coffee, talked, and he left that thing on the table when he left. No harm, no foul. So give it back to him and I'm going to take off. I have," he looks around, focuses on the clock and not his impending panic attack. "I have somewhere else I should be."
"I bet you do," Roth mutters, swipes his towel over the condensation ring on the table.
"What does that mean?" Noah stands up before he hears the condescension in Roth's voice, the tension in his own jaw. He whirls to glare down at the startled barista. "Look, asshole, I don't know what you think you know about me, but you know nothing. Nothing. Got that? You know I like my coffee dark and I tip well. Anything else? My business. Not yours. We clear." Noah loops his fingers in the frayed cuffs of his hoodie and vows to not get violent. "Why the fuck did I think I'd find answers here? She's fucking dead. I need to move on." He's so intent on growling about self-righteous assholes who don't know how lucky they are that he collides with someone entering the door, shoving the person into someone else.
"We really have to stop meeting like this. People will begin to think things that maybe things aren't over." Luke's laugh is quiet, hesitant. He leans into the man who caught him, pets his cheek. "Thanks Reg. You know I can be a spaz when I'm distracted." Luke frowns, stares at Noah.
"Yeah, yeah, let's get you some caffeine. Maybe it'll balance out whatever weird fit you're having now." The guy with Luke, Reg, holds on to Luke possessively.
Noah can't speak, can't think. Two days ago Luke said he didn't have a boyfriend. Why had Noah trusted him? Why had he so desperately wanted to trust him? Stripped defenseless in one accidental collision of clothed skin over skin, the familiar acid bubbles in his stomach. "Left your tape recorder with me." He nods his head back to the corner. "Roth said he'd get it back to you."
"You know Roth? How the hell do you -?" Layered light dawns in Luke's brown eyes and Noah can't believe he ever thought of this person his own age as a kid. "You're him, aren't you? You're the guy he was talking about that comes in all pissed off but tips like Roth's the coffee god. The hoodie, the hair, everything. He never said, and I just assumed, and I mean, I knew you were here in the morning when ever I came in to write, but I never asked him to point you out, and then. That's just weird. Karmic almost. I can't believe that. We've been talking about you since October when I first noticed you in my class. Before we crashed into each other at Yo's." He frowns again. "But then you never came back, so I thought you must have dropped it. Anyway, no matter. Do you, uh," he glances at Reg, back at Noah. "Do you want to get coffee with us? I could stop babbling." Luke shifts on his ankles, wipes his hands on his jeans.
"Yeah, no. No coffee. No nothing. Just," Noah can't help himself, his itchy fingers brush a lock of hair behind Luke's ear. "Do us both a favor and don't play that tape in front of anyone. Apparently you don't know when to stop with that either." Reckless and pissed off, Noah leans in and lick a stripe up Luke's now exposed neck. "Pretty sure I'm packing up at the end of this month, Ace. But in the mean time, I found myself a new location. Even has coffee, if you call the crap at the convenience store that." He sticks out his chin, glares at Reg, and makes his grand exit.
Even without meaning to, Luke manages to give Noah another first by freezing in his tracks.
Next Installment
Author: nouveau_monday
Pairing: Noah/Luke
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word Count: 3.7kish
Summary: Noah finds a new location and tries to return something Luke left behind.
Spoilers: This is completely AU for the boys. So yeah, any relation to the story line is minor. Facts I kept were the Colonel, Noah's mom, and Oakdale. Other characters resemble themselves, but everyone, by definition is not quite him/her self.
Disclaimer: As I said, this is AU. The characters belong to CBS and P&G and possibly others, but definitely not me. That is the real travesty of all of this.
Notes: Thank you so much to mightyten for being a great beta, especially when I whine all the time. And she's ridiculously busy. And she still did this. Because she rocks. And also elin_aurora who saved me during my time of need.
Noah stumbles into Java. "Coffee, black." He grabs the barista behind the counter by his noxious green shirt. "And seriously, I mean black like burned, the way you usually do it, no cream, no sugar, no nutmeg, no weird spoons dipped in chocolate or any of that other girly shit. Coffee. Make that two. Extra large. Both to go." He slaps a ten on the counter. "If they're at my table within the next five minutes, I'll double that money. If the lids are on and I can bolt out the door, so much the better. I'm desperate, man. Please." Apparently he looks psychotic enough, because the guy behind the counter nods like one of those big-headed bobble head toys and scurries away to the coffee pots. Noah scrubs his hands over his face, slams his body into a chair and throws his hoodie over his hair. Hidden like that, he's fairly confident that people will leave him the fuck alone. At least they will if they know what's good for them.
The coffees slide onto the table in their little cardboard tray. The smell wafts through the thick poly-cotton blend of his sweatshirt. Maybe today will be better than the last two? He smiles near on beatifically at the barista. "Thanks, man. I'm sorry I was such a dumb-ass queen over there. No caffeine in a couple days. Makes me all crazy and shit." He peels another ten from the black wallet he's plied from his back pocket. "Really. I'm sorry. But I'll go before I scare any of your other customers away."
The already confused college boy looks more confused as he stutters out a thanks and gets the money into his pocket quick. Noah rolls his eyes. He hasn't been that young since, well, since forever. How are they possibly letting people go to college like that? So unprepared for assholes like himself. It doesn't seem right.
Noah swallows the first bitter sip with his eyes closed. The heat spills down his throat and spreads across his lungs. He thinks he could find religion in the nervous hand of the early morning coffee boy. Whoever the kid is, he always makes it a bit too strong and burns it more than Noah imagines most sane people would like. The second and third gulps go down smoother. He feels warm, finally.
It's freezing outside Java and this blissful cup of coffee, not for the first time, Noah wonders how the fuck he wound up here. Oakdale fucking Illinois. Why had his mom come here, of all places? Not that doctors and professors didn't pay well to get their rocks off, but surely she could have found clients anywhere. He'd seen a picture of her once, before the Colonel had destroyed it. Whatever the reason, what was done was done. Noah found her gravestone and a corner and now he needed a new one. Yo's is not an option for more than another seventy-two hours. Long enough to tell the semi-regulars he'd moved somewhere new and make sure they had his number. Short enough that dumb kids won't try to find him.
Noah frowns into his coffee. The air feels strange outside of the apartment he hasn't wanted to leave. Luke hasn't tried to see him, at his alley, Java, or at his apartment. The tape recorder remains on the bedside table. Noah knows he should buy new batteries for it. They must be almost dead after recording the entire night. He wonders if Luke meant to embed everything, including Noah's spectacular freak out, on the tape? Probably not. Purchasing sex is as illegal as selling it. Kid is a naive pain in the ass, but he doesn't strike Noah as stupid.
He clutches his first cup in his hands, downs the last third in one long pull. Noah stands, slinks over to the counter oozing as much sexual promise as he can find. The boy behind the counter has definitely noticed. "Hey kid, you work here often? I see you almost every morning. Do you only do AM hours?"
Coffee boy twitches, stutters. "No?"
"It's not a trick question. Not gonna get you in trouble. Your coffee is my favorite. It's strongest." Noah smiles, stares boldly into his barista's eyes to cover the bald faced lie he's about to say. He worries his tongue stud across his bottom lip. Distraction never hurts either. "Talked to this guy here a couple days ago. Thought I might look him up. Kinda messy blonde hair. Wears stripes a lot. Really brown eyes? Mouth made to give head? This sound familiar at all? Said his name was Jake, or Matt, maybe Paul? One syllable, definitely." Another pass of metal across his tongue, a promise of something never going to happen.
"Luke? You mean Luke Snyder, don't you? Sure, who doesn't know him? He's been practically living here when he's not at Yo's." The kid behind the counter frowns. "Luke's a nice guy. What do you want with him?"
Noah shrugs, doesn't meet his eyes. "We were talking, and he accidentally left something with me when he left. Don't know how to reach him. Wondered if I could bring it by later? Maybe you could pass it back to him? You could share a drink with me?" Noah blocks out the pain in his stomach. He has no business flirting with some guy who probably can't buy his own drinks yet.
The kid smiles. "You got a thing for Luke? That's cute. Man, everyone seems to want him." He scans up and down Noah's body. "Luke usually dates a little more jock, or, I don't know, hipster. Never seen him go for punks or goths. But what the hell, right?" He smiles. "Everyone needs variety." Coffee boy wipes his hands on the towel at his hip. "The name's Roth. Me and Luke go back to freshman year. Met him during orientation. He likes his coffee with extra milk and sugar." Roth rolls his eyes. "I still haven't broken him of the habit."
Noah laughs. "Tell me he doesn't always drink those awful candy coated caramel-hazelnut-macadamia-chocolate things with whipped cream and sprinkles that pretend to be coffee?"
Roth winks, grins. "I'll keep that and the fact that you tried to hit on me to get dirt on him quiet." Noah flushes, hates his pale skin as he feels the heat course over his cheeks. "Also," Roth continued. "I should warn you that he's been mooning over some guy since forever it seems like. At least October. I thought maybe he'd finally manned up and done something about it earlier, but he's back to moping." He glances at his watch. "I'll be here for the late afternoon rush. Any time after 2, but probably 3 or 4 is better."
"Thanks, umm, Roth," Noah says, trying out his barista's name. "I, umm, it's not like that. I just, I should get this thing back to him." Noah wraps his hoodie tighter around him, yanks the hood up and over his head, almost covering his eyes.
"Whatever you say, Man. Check ya later. I'll save some of the good stuff for when you come back."
Noah roams over Oakdale around lunchtime, tape recorder jammed in his pocket so he can ditch it as soon as possible. The alley - his alley, damn it - is still the best location. He thinks maybe that a spot near the hospital might do. EMTs are usually more than willing to fuck away the violence, the blood, the everything they see every day. It's almost like I'm doing a public service. Noah snorts, doubts that would fly if he were to get busted again. Still, there's a 24/7 convenience store near it, so he can grab all the essentials if he needs them. Noah rolls his shoulders. What he should buy are gloves and a real jacket, but lube, condoms, and cheap coffee seem somehow more important when hooking.
He wanders back, finds himself on the Oakdale U campus feeling slightly better about his new spot. At least not put out to be leaving his alley. Hopefully he could pick up a few more regulars.
Students pour out of the buildings, scramble to others and out of the cold. Noah smiles. He's got an hour and a half before he ditches the tape recorder with Roth. Noah follows a gaggle of students into the Media Arts building, and into a larger lecture hall. The best, and most oblivious, professors seem to teach in the film department. He grabs a seat in the back, near the door.
The professor, one Noah vaguely recognizes from other stealth-audits he's done, stands at a podium talking to a woman. The woman is a tiny blonde thing, reminding Noah a bit of a Min Pin an ex-client of his had; cute but fierce, with no sense and barely a foot tall. Noah forgot the pen and notebook he usually carries to blend in. He scans the auditorium and figures he's safe.
Fifty minutes later, Noah rises from his seat to give this Katie person the credit she deserves. He applauds with the students. Fewer than five minutes in to her talk, Noah realized he had seen her on Oakdale Now or whatever it was called. Never in a million years would he have pictured her as driven and dynamic. She always seemed so vapid on camera.
Noah ignores the first couple of questions gushed from the audience. Katie, you're an inspiration! and What's it like to work with your husband? and Jesus, why didn't someone just ask her bra size and be done with it? Noah raises his eyebrow, appraises her body with practiced ease, probably no more than a 34B anyway.
A voice from the front of the room interrupts him. "Is WOAK participating in the internship program in conjunction with Oakdale U?" Noah's body responds to the question even before his mind catches up. How the fuck did he manage to wander into Luke fucking Snyder's class?
"Hey Luke, glad to see you're still interested in WOAK." She offers a flirty smile down from her place by the podium and Noah stifles an urge to kick her in the head. Katie goes on to address everyone. "It is true that the station will be participating. We'll be looking for three to five interns. Before anyone asks, yes, we will pay, and yes, that pay will suck. You'll be interns. Deal with it. The applications will be at the station starting Friday. Deadline is the end of March. All final decisions will be made by the first of May. That should give you time to defer schools or change plans if you wanted to leave Oakdale." She raises her hand over the rumble of voices. "The first two rounds of weed outs are anonymous. We won't be able to be involved in the process if we know the finalists." She winks down into the front row. "Sorry Luke, Reg, but you gotta get this on your own merit."
"No worries, Katie. We will." A shiver slices down Noah's back at the determination he remembers hearing in his bed just a few days before. He dashes for the door, lets it slam behind him, heedless of the spectacle he makes of himself.
Noah flies toward Java like the cops are on him. Roth's tall, gangly form is visible through the window, like a lighthouse beacon. Noah gasps in breath unsuccessfully at the door. Rich hot air clashes with the chill in his lungs. He wedges himself into the darkest table in the furthest corner and waits for his blood to slow within his veins. Noah counts to ten in German - Eins, Zwei, Drei - and begins to regain his center.
"Hey, you okay? Came in like the hounds of Hell were on you." Roth slides an extra large to go cup under Noah's nose. "If you wait about ten minutes, you can return whatever Luke left to him personally. He'll be out of class any minute now. Texted me to tell me he was on his way over here."
"No." Noah grips the cup hard enough to pop the lid off. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be so loud. He, uhh, wouldn't want to see me again. Trust me." He wriggles his hand into the pocket of his jeans. "I'm sure he's been lost without it." Noah palms the mini-recorder one last time, should feel bad about the duplicates he made of the tape and instead berates himself for being lame. He slams the machine down on the table, shoves it at Roth like it's soaked in acid. "Just make sure he gets it, would you?" Noah stands.
"Holy shit." Roth clamps onto Noah's wrist. "Jesus. You're the guy, aren't you? I mean, shit, I can't believe you've been storming in here five days a week since the beginning of the year and I never put two and two together." He laughs, but doesn't let go. "All this time we've been talking about the same guy. Jesus, I'm an idiot."
"You're something, alright. Get your hand off me. Nobody touches me unless I fucking say they can. And you don't have that kind of cash." His voice is quiet now, but Noah assumes that he's made himself clear. He shakes his suddenly freed wrist. "That's better. Now, can you give the tape recorder to your precious Luke? Or should I find another way to get it to him?"
Roth crosses his arms over his green Java shirt, leans back, tips the chair. He surveys Noah. "How did you know to ask about him here?"
"Dude, you don't get to ask me questions when you accosted me." Noah should leave, trust that the recorder will get to Luke and go.
"That's not an answer, that's an evasion. You tell me how you know, I'll tell you what I was talking about. Only, you gotta talk first."
Noah wants nothing more than to punch his overly cocky morning barista in the mouth. "Are we twelve here? Gonna double dare me?"
"If I have to." Roth is calm. His eyes remain firmly on Noah. "Look, Luke's one of my best friends. You're some mystery guy Luke's got the biggest hard on for. You appear out of nowhere, treat me like a bad case of jock itch most of the time, and then you have these mood swings where you're all nice and generous. Actually, you're always generous. Great tips. Thanks, man." He shakes his head. "But that's not the point. The point is you. What gives? Who are you?"
It's too much information for Noah to process. Roth's words spin in this strange jumble of sound and images that don't add up.
He'd been in Oakdale since September, hitched with some random sophomores who had more money than sense, but at least didn't ask questions. The small month-to-month apartment had been easy to get and the alley fell into place before the first month's rent was due.
Noah liked working college towns. Closeted professors and easy access buildings with heat and no ID required. No one noticed when he sat in on bigger classes. Heck, he'd even allowed himself to debate with a professor or two before sneaking out a side door. Not to mention the occasional frat boy trying to find an answer to his life's desire in a drunken homo fuck.
The coffee in the quaint little collection of old town storefronts kept Noah functioning and he liked to watch the people who came and went. Sometimes, though he was loathe to admit it, he dreamed about being a normal college student with no worries other than finals and student loans.
Those dreams crystallized in the casual laughter of a messy haired blonde guy who almost always wore stripes. Over the next couple of months, Noah had filled in gaps about the guy. He drank tea in the morning while he tapped away on a laptop. Everyone seemed to know him, patted his shoulder, stopped to say hi. Nothing but small talk about the weather or the local news. Noah started to wonder if anyone really knew the guy or if they all thought he was just a pretty face.
They'd bumped into each other, literally, at the entrance to Yo's one night. Noah about to blow some frat boy in the bathroom, Luke on his way to some place else. Luke had smelled good; clean and outdoorsy, but like a farmer, not a lumberjack. He had offered his really strong hand and this smile. God, that mouth. He'd watched him chew on enough plastic stirrers while he drank his tea, but up close and personal? Those lips were made to suck cock. Noah was sure he must have blushed, but he also knew that he only had so much time or dumb frat boy would become belligerent and that could mean beatings or cops, and certainly not getting paid. He needed to make bank.
"Hi. Sorry about that. My fault."
"Don't sweat it, kid. Just quit staring at your feet. You could miss something." Noah remembered winking, probably licked his upper lip, flashed a bit of metal. But then he'd split toward the bathroom and the moment was gone.
Roth snaps. "Hey. Where'd you go?"
Noah shakes his head. "Nowhere. Just thinking. Really, you're making a big deal out of nothing. I'm just some guy that your friend Luke ran into some afternoon. We had coffee, talked, and he left that thing on the table when he left. No harm, no foul. So give it back to him and I'm going to take off. I have," he looks around, focuses on the clock and not his impending panic attack. "I have somewhere else I should be."
"I bet you do," Roth mutters, swipes his towel over the condensation ring on the table.
"What does that mean?" Noah stands up before he hears the condescension in Roth's voice, the tension in his own jaw. He whirls to glare down at the startled barista. "Look, asshole, I don't know what you think you know about me, but you know nothing. Nothing. Got that? You know I like my coffee dark and I tip well. Anything else? My business. Not yours. We clear." Noah loops his fingers in the frayed cuffs of his hoodie and vows to not get violent. "Why the fuck did I think I'd find answers here? She's fucking dead. I need to move on." He's so intent on growling about self-righteous assholes who don't know how lucky they are that he collides with someone entering the door, shoving the person into someone else.
"We really have to stop meeting like this. People will begin to think things that maybe things aren't over." Luke's laugh is quiet, hesitant. He leans into the man who caught him, pets his cheek. "Thanks Reg. You know I can be a spaz when I'm distracted." Luke frowns, stares at Noah.
"Yeah, yeah, let's get you some caffeine. Maybe it'll balance out whatever weird fit you're having now." The guy with Luke, Reg, holds on to Luke possessively.
Noah can't speak, can't think. Two days ago Luke said he didn't have a boyfriend. Why had Noah trusted him? Why had he so desperately wanted to trust him? Stripped defenseless in one accidental collision of clothed skin over skin, the familiar acid bubbles in his stomach. "Left your tape recorder with me." He nods his head back to the corner. "Roth said he'd get it back to you."
"You know Roth? How the hell do you -?" Layered light dawns in Luke's brown eyes and Noah can't believe he ever thought of this person his own age as a kid. "You're him, aren't you? You're the guy he was talking about that comes in all pissed off but tips like Roth's the coffee god. The hoodie, the hair, everything. He never said, and I just assumed, and I mean, I knew you were here in the morning when ever I came in to write, but I never asked him to point you out, and then. That's just weird. Karmic almost. I can't believe that. We've been talking about you since October when I first noticed you in my class. Before we crashed into each other at Yo's." He frowns again. "But then you never came back, so I thought you must have dropped it. Anyway, no matter. Do you, uh," he glances at Reg, back at Noah. "Do you want to get coffee with us? I could stop babbling." Luke shifts on his ankles, wipes his hands on his jeans.
"Yeah, no. No coffee. No nothing. Just," Noah can't help himself, his itchy fingers brush a lock of hair behind Luke's ear. "Do us both a favor and don't play that tape in front of anyone. Apparently you don't know when to stop with that either." Reckless and pissed off, Noah leans in and lick a stripe up Luke's now exposed neck. "Pretty sure I'm packing up at the end of this month, Ace. But in the mean time, I found myself a new location. Even has coffee, if you call the crap at the convenience store that." He sticks out his chin, glares at Reg, and makes his grand exit.
Even without meaning to, Luke manages to give Noah another first by freezing in his tracks.
Next Installment