Work Text:
It’s safe to say that the Summer of being a couch potato I had initially planned was nothing like what I actually got. In actuality, I ended up with the vacation experience of a lifetime. Well, that’s only if you consider babysitting five eight-year-olds plus a pregnant pig, plus a certified genius to be a dream “vacay”.
I know I sound sarcastic, but the time I spent at Wilderton University wasn’t horrible. In fact, it was kind of the opposite. Sure, feeling the need to check my sleeves for pig poop every time I left the bathroom wasn’t favorable. And yet, getting the chance to be a part of Baloney couldn’t have happened if Noah had decided to waltz into someone else’s house and announce that they were going to accompany him on a three-month excursion through Genius Island.
Noah. If there was anyone whom I saw the most of during my stay at Wilderton, it had to be him. We did live together, after all–which, side note, ended up being much more homey than I had expected. Now that I was back with Mom and Dad, the rooms feel sorta empty without Noah’s plants, praying mantis-posture and voice that could shatter glass. It’s kind of impressive how well-adjusted I became to being Noah’s roommate–almost as if that was the way things were supposed to work out. Then again, this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve pictured a future with Noah.
Now that the two of us are in high school, we don’t exactly see each other around much. He’s in some advanced STEM school, building Greenpower mobiles and marching around with his flute at football games so he can get out of P.E. Meanwhile, I’m just kinda… average. (What else is new?)
This doesn’t mean we aren’t talking. In fact, we’re closer than close. I still get visits from Chloe, even if they aren’t as consistent as they used to be. That is why I wasn’t caught off guard when I received this text:
phasmatodea (Noah!!):
Any chance you could pick me up and we could head to the library? Just the two of us, I have some things to attend to
You:
sure. When?
phasmatodea (Noah!!):
9 today, please. It’s pretty important.
You:
It’s 8:40???? How do you expect me to get to your house so fast??
phasmatodea (Noah!!):
I thought it was within walking distance?
You:
sure it is. just let me get my time machine real quick./sarc
He typed something in response, but I was already stuffing my phone into my pocket and rushing out the door. I swear, sometimes I think I’d do anything for this guy.
* * *
When I arrived at Noah’s house, I was panting, sweaty and probably in need of some deodorant. He regarded me with a bewildered expression.
“I thought you weren’t gonna show up?” he said, stuffing his phone in his pocket.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I replied, talking past my heavy breathing. Noah shrugged as a knowing look formed on his face.
“I said that I could move it to ten if nine was too demanding, but you didn’t answer. I assumed you got mad at me.”
Once I had finally caught up with my breathing patterns, I faced Noah with an exasperated expression. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Now, are we heading to the library or what?”
Noah smiled and shrugged a seemingly heavy tote bag onto his shoulder. “I already have the books I need to return.”
The walk to the library wasn’t exactly exciting–I finally checked my phone, and saw the message Noah had mentioned (twenty minutes too late). But it wasn’t until we were five minutes in that Noah began fidgeting uncomfortably. He kept switching which hand the bag rested in, and his hair was laced with sweat.
“What’s up?” I inquired, shutting off my phone and shoving it into the pockets of my basketball shorts.
“Nothing! This bag is just kind of heavy, you know? I calculated a–”
…His expression instantly relaxed in relief when I lifted the bag off his shoulder. It wasn’t exactly heavy, but I suppose that you feel it more when you’re eighty-five pounds soaking wet.
* * *
When we entered the library, Noah instantly blended into the surroundings, as if he belonged there. That’s impressive, because Noah hardly belongs anywhere. Even at Wilderton, he was the odd one out because he was a thirteen-year-old genius alongside a bunch of averagely smart college-aged kids. Here, nobody talked–and I don’t mean that figuratively. Most people were either working or reading, so much so that I felt out of place when I opened my mouth to whisper. “What exactly did you need to do here?”
Noah took the tote bag from my arm. “Well, first, I need to return these.”
As Noah slipped the books into the slit on the front desk, it became increasingly clear why his bag was so heavy. His current assortment of books included a college-level analysis of psychological conditions, an informational book on every element in the periodic table in alphabetical order, a novel titled Slacker, and a thinner book with frayed edges that read “First Dates for Dummies: A Bootleg Guide on Romancing that Special Someone”.
“What–”
“We need to get to the non-fiction section!!” he exclaimed, pulling me by the arm. I figured that whatever questions I had may have to wait.
And, sure enough, we did plenty of searching for books. He grabbed the sequel of Slacker, Level 13, and info-dumped about the plot all whilst searching for a book on the smallpox outbreak of the seventeenth century. We printed a few projects here and there, and even visited the cafe. (I didn’t exactly like the muffins, but I decided to keep that to myself since Noah seemed to enjoy them, even if he could only stomach half of his.) It wasn’t long before we ended up in the lounging area behind the manga, with Noah surveying his selection of books as if they were hiding the secrets to the universe. Knowing him, they might as well be.
I shrugged onto the polka-dot couch beside him and peered over at the book he had deemed worthy of reading right this second. “How’s that one?”
“Well, I couldn’t tell you. I’m only a couple of pages in.”
“Sensible,” I commented, shifting to the side. I would’ve thought twice about doing so if I had known that Noah would lean on my shoulder the second I settled down.
I mean, it wasn’t unwelcome, sure, but it was usual for Noah. Heck, I happen to know that he hates physical touch. So why this? Why here–why now?
I must’ve shut down when I felt his head against me, because he just chuckled. I would’ve reached up to ruffle his hair, but my arm was totally pinned against my side. And then, almost as if he were reading my mind, his hand slid into mine. I was surprised by how well they fit together, almost as if our hands were puzzle pieces waiting to be connected.
I couldn’t tell you how fast my heart was beating at that point, but I bet Noah could. He was the one who decided to get touchy-feely all of a sudden–which was the most confusing part of all. Why would Noah, who shrugs away from hugs and even shivers when he brushes hands with others by accident, cuddle up to me? Am I an exception?
The thought of that makes me happier than I thought it would.
Unfortunately, the moment ended eventually. He read until the first chapter and I walked him home, neither of us daring to mention whatever the heck just happened.
I never asked him about the dating manual. I figured, if he wanted to tell me what that was about, he would do so eventually.