Page 5 of Caleb
Honestly, I thought Levi would send me away for good this time, but instead, he did the opposite. I’m not allowed to leave on weekends anymore. He thinks that if I stay, I’ll integrate faster with the community and solve the tardiness problem by default.
Fuck me.
My parents won’t be thrilled, but they respect Levi too much to object. If I’m being honest, a part of me feels relieved about staying here and avoiding their sympathy-filled looks and concerned questions about my future. So as long as I’m allowed to have a drink or two on the weekends, I’ll be fine. I’ll need to let off some steam or risk my sanity. I’m sure Levi wouldn’t dare forbid it.
For my mental health’s sake, or whatever is left of it.
Almost everyone has had dinner by now. After helping out with hanging some decorations and carrying various boxes into one of the conference halls, I did a thorough perimeter check with some of the guys on Idan’s security team. I made a couple of suggestions on a few weak spots that could use some tweaking, just to make sure everything’s tight when we close the main gate every night. We just need to run them by Idan tomorrow at the morning meeting.
Hoping for this long-ass day to end soon, I sit to eat dinner in the communal dining hall. There are only a few people eating, but I keep to myself. I can’t get over how good the food is here. No wonder so many people drive up here to spend the day and eat at the restaurant. And today’s menu of fish shawarmas and eggplant salad didn’t disappoint. The thick, creamy tahini sauce that goes with it makes me moan with every bite.
I’m done with my meal, and my cheeks puff as I let out an exhausted breath through my mouth.
“Caleb,” Noa utters behind me. I rest my fork on the plate and turn around to see her. She pulls a chair closer to me and takes a seat. “I heard what happened earlier. You didn’t have to do that.”
Just looking at her, I can see she’s been crying. It only makes me hate that she got disrespected like that even more.
“I kinda did,” I say, patting my mouth with a napkin.
She places a hand on the back of my head and caresses my hair. The soothing contact of her fingers on me feels so good. So naturally, I pull away from her touch.
“Caleb?” She frowns a cute frown my way, but I will soldier through this one.
“We’re not alone, Noa,” I whisper, looking around. And it’s not like Levi is unaware of whateverthisis, but I can’t have him find out I’m openly engaging in PDA in the dining hall with his niece, even if it’s something as innocent as stroking the back of my head. I’ve had enough problems today as it is.
Noa sighs, the corner of her lips upturning into a smile. “Maybe I can make it up to you tonight?” She props her elbow on the table and rests her chin in the palm of her hand.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I stand and pick up my plates. “Levi moved me out of house four. That means he’ll be watching us closely, especially after we arrived together today.”
“He did what?” Frowning, she stands and follows me to the kitchen. She watches me wash up my plate, glass, and utensils, waiting for a reply. But she heard me alright.
I need a smoke, so I step out and light one up after I’m done doing the dishes in silence.
“What house are you in now?” She clicks her tongue, feigning innocence. “I’m sure I’ll be able to slip my way into your room like I always do.” She takes a step closer and wraps her arms around my waist. I let her. My free hand brushes her arm. A part of me wants to give in. To hug her back with everything I have, but that’s the problem. I’ve got nothing.
“Two,” I say plainly, puffing a cloud of smoke to the side and pinching the bridge of my nose with my fingers. This has officially been the longest fucking day and dealing with the emotional bullshit that stirs up inside me when I’m with Noa is just making it all even more exhausting. And it’s all on me. I should be the one trying to figure out how to sneak into her room tonight, not the other way around.
I care about Noa. I love making her feel good because I know exactly how to do it, and the knowledge alone makes me hard. But I don’t need her. And I’ve been striking myself with a mental whip about it for a while now. This is why I’ve tried being honest with her in the past about where I stand with my feelings. She usually brushes off the rejection with smiles and nods and shrugs. It’s like she doesn’t want to believe me. And a part of me thinks I’m crazy not to want us to be something more and claim her as my own.
Witnessing the rehearsed indifference on her part feels like a blow to my stomach every single time because I don’t want to hurt her. But I admit to enjoying the sex too much to let her go. And I’m pretty damn sure she does too. The difference between us is that she caught feelings, which wasn’t supposed to happen.We are just having fun, but I can’t remember the last time I genuinely smiled at someone. It’s like having to be aware of sending the thought command to my brain to do so. It just doesn’t happen naturally.
Pulling Noa further against me, I wrap my free arm around her and rest my chin on the top of her head. A good man would walk away and deal with his shit in solitude before letting it all burst into flames. But if there’s anything I’ve learned it’s that I’m weaker than I thought, and I hate myself for it.
“Room six,” I whisper. She shivers from the contact of my lips on her ear. I take another drag of my cigarette and blow the smoke upward.
Gently, I unlock myself from the embrace. Although it’s past dinner, and most people have retreated to their rooms, there are still a few roaming around getting their chores done. Especially since there’s a celebration happening in a couple of days, so it’s best if we keep our distance.
“I’ll be there in an hour.” She pulls my t-shirt to make me lean in so she can reach me. Then, it’s her turn to whisper in my ear. “You know … so we can fuck for the last time.”
An Offer I Can Refuse
NOA WALKS AWAY, and I watch her as she goes, taking a long drag of my cigarette. Shaking my head, I blow out the last plume of smoke above me and flick the cigarette on the ground, crushing it with the sole of my shoe.
I’m in desperate need of a shower, and I haven’t even set foot in my new room. Not that I’m curious. They’re all the same.
My phone rings after I text Tamar to ask about my new key. It’s an incoming call from an unknown country code. It’s not unusual for me to let these calls slide into voicemail, but I remember the country code +33 belongs to France because I have a couple of friends who moved there a few years ago. I wonder if one of them could be calling me from a new number.
— “Hello?”
