Dedicated to PointlessK for her amazing cover in the external.

Chapter 24

On Wednesday during lunch, I finally had a chance to talk to Marissa. I was pulled out of lunch yesterday for the unveiling of the mural. It came out nice and I’m happy I was a part of creating it. So when I dropped down in my seat on Wednesday, Marissa smiled at me. “Nice job on the mural, by the way,” she told me.

“Thanks,” I nodded as I glanced at it. A few people took notice while others just walked by it. To be honest, I didn’t expect it to be that big of a deal so my feelings aren’t hurt. “So, what was so important that you blew off pizza on Monday?”

She grinned at me. “Just important things,” she shrugged.

“Sitting on the couch stuffing your face with chips is considered important things?” Noah’s voice asked. I felt my stomach jolt and I turned around, looking at the familiar dark haired boy as he approached the table.

“To me, it is,” Marissa responded.

“That’s what you were doing?” I asked her.

“Well, I was watching Gossip Girl, too!” she muttered, earning a glare from me.

As Noah passed us, he shook his head. Once he was at his table, out of our hearing range, I looked at Marissa and sighed. “I have a question for you.”

“Hm?” she asked as she looked at me.

“Why are you okay with the idea of me liking your brother? I mean, you don’t seem okay with Chloe liking him. I’m just curious,” I shrugged.

“I guess, in a way, you’re better for Noah,” she replied. “I mean, you guys are both my friends but you’re a better person for Noah than Chloe is.”

I simply nodded. “And another question,” I smiled sheepishly. She nodded and I laughed, awkwardly poking at my food. “Doesn’t it bother you to be involved in your brother’s love life?”

“What do you mean?” she asked with a grin.

“You know, how you asked me about kissing him. Isn’t that a bit weird?” I asked her.

“Well, you don’t have anyone else to talk to about that kind of stuff. Who are you going to gossip with about kissing him? You don’t have a sister to talk to about this kind of thing, and if you brought it up to your mom, she’d probably give you the talk. I mean, of course it’s weird because it’s my brother but I kind of just ignore that fact. I know you’d do the same for me if it was your brother,” she smiled. “And besides, who’s going to tease you about it?”

I looked at her and smiled. “Thanks, Marissa.” She simply nodded in response.

<<>><<>> 

Once the last bell rang, I jumped from my seat and jogged out to the parking lot, looking for the familiar blue eyed boy. “You never run like that in gym class,” his voice greeted my ears.

Embarrassed, I turned around and looked at Noah as he stood against the wall with a bottle of water in his hands. “You watch me in gym class?” I asked him and he shrugged.

“When I’m bored and in need of a laugh,” he explained as he twirled the cap in his hands. I pushed his arm and he stumbled slightly, smiling faintly as he regained his balance. “I’m just being honest.”

“Not everyone can run like you,” I told him.

“They wish they could,” he responded and I glared at him.

We split up a few minutes later to get into our cars, and I followed him out of the parking lot.

When we arrived at his house, I knocked on the door twice. Somewhere along the way here, I ended up getting caught at a red light and Noah was ahead of me. I took that time to eat a handful of mints and stuff two sticks of gum in my mouth, just to be safe. Mid knock, the door swung open, revealing Noah who had an eyebrow raised.

“Why didn’t you just walk in? It was unlocked for a reason,” he told me.

“Well, it’s weird to just walk into someone else’s house,” I replied as I ambled in with my guitar in its case.

He simply shrugged and motioned to the couch. I noticed Marissa sitting there with a bowl of cereal in her lap. She was watching Gossip Girl; the only reason I know this is because she kept telling me earlier at lunch that she was going to go home and watch the show. She said that nothing was going to get in her way.

“Hey,” Marissa greeted me with a smile as Noah went into the kitchen.

“Hello,” I told her as I plopped down onto the couch beside her.

“Ready for your guitar lesson?” she asked with a smirk.

“Yes, I’m ready for my guitar lesson, because that’s what it is,” I told her with narrowed eyes.

“Okay, okay,” she put her hands up, “Whatever you say.”

I just rolled my eyes and waited for Noah patiently. When he finally did come back, he had water bottles in his hands. He tossed me one and instead of making a move to catch it, I was too busy looking at him so it hit me in the arm. He gave me an odd look as I reached down and grabbed the bottle from the couch.

Noah had his guitar propped against the other end of the couch and he dropped down beside it, holding it on his lap as he looked at his sister, who was turning up the volume to Gossip Girl. “Can you turn it up any louder?” he sarcastically asked.

“Actually yes,” she nodded and proceeded to turn the volume up.

“You have to go watch television elsewhere,” he told her.

“Well, I would watch it in my room but someone broke my TV,” she sent him a dirty look.

“You shouldn’t have taken my food,” he retorted.

“You don’t throw books! They’re for reading, not for tossing at people’s TVs!” she retorted. “I’d expect you to know that seeing as you have your head buried in one all the time!”

“What happened?” I asked.

“He made food and refused to make me some, so I took his and went upstairs to my room. Ten minutes later, he came running into my room with the biggest book he could find; it was like an encyclopedia, I swear. He then decided that it’d be fun to play Frisbee with the book and he chucked it at me but I dodged it and it hit my TV!” she explained.

“You shouldn’t have dodged it,” he shrugged.

“I wasn’t going to let it hit me in the face!” she snapped.

“It’s what you deserve,” he told her.

She sent him a dirty look before she went back to watching her show, not bothering to turn down the television. “Go watch it somewhere else!” he hissed.

“No!” she barked.

“Go watch it in dad’s room!” he demanded.

“No can do; he’s packing,” she bit back.

“Packing? Packing for what?” he asked in a calmer voice.

“He’s leaving tomorrow,” she responded. Noah stared at her and she scoffed. “Don’t give me that look; I just found out twenty minutes ago when I noticed him running upstairs with a clean load of laundry.”

Noah’s nose twitched before his angry demeanor resurfaced. “Too bad; go watch it somewhere else.”

“No! I told you no! I specifically told you this morning that I’m going to be in the living room after school! Why don’t you go somewhere else?” she snapped. Noah went to reach for the remote but she shoved it under the cushion she was sitting on. He grabbed her arm, preparing to move her but she dropped into a laying position, refusing to move. Noah went to grab her feet to drag her away from the cushion but she screamed. Even I had to cover my ears as the sound of her voice pierced the air.

“Shut up!” Noah hissed as he went to grab her ankles again. She let out another scream and he grabbed a pillow, shoving it over her face. Although her scream was muffled, it still was loud.

“It’s okay; we’ll just practice somewhere else,” I shrugged, trying to stop their fighting.

Lifting the pillow off of her face, Noah dropped it back down with more force. Marissa let out an “oomph” as her face was assaulted by the soft material. Noah grabbed his guitar and walked towards the stairs. When he noticed I wasn’t following, he looked back. “Are you coming or not?”

I grabbed my guitar and my water bottle before following him upstairs. I sent an apologetic look to Marissa who just shrugged in response, turning back to her television show. I followed Noah as he went down the hall, opening his bedroom door and walking in, dropping his guitar on his bed. I awkwardly stood in the doorway, unsure of whether or not I should enter. I’ve entered before but that was only because I had no choice but to. He was drunk and he couldn’t really walk on his own; I know he would’ve been mad if I would have left him on the floor of the hallway.

“Come in,” Noah responded as he shed his jacket, hanging it up in the closet. I stepped in, looking around. Last time I couldn’t really get a good look of anything because it was dark. As I stepped in, I looked around, nodding as I took in the semi-familiar sight. I remember his cherry wood furniture and his navy blue and gray set up. “Are you going to stare or are you going to actually unpack your guitar?” he asked me.

Rolling my eyes, I kneeled on the floor and unzipped my guitar’s case, revealing the acoustic instrument. As I held it in my hands, I looked around, curious as to where I was going to sit. Placing my guitar on his bed, I grabbed his rolling chair and rolled it a few feet away from his bed, lifting my guitar and placing it on my lap.

“This is the headstock, and these are the tuning pegs,” Noah told me as he pointed to the knobs at the top of the guitar. I nodded and he continued.

“This is the nut of the guitar,” he explained as he pointed to the gold colored bar separating the headstock from the rest of the guitar. I curled my lips in my mouth as I held back a laugh.

The more I thought it, the more I wanted to laugh. He was staring at me with a flat look on his face as I let out a snicker, followed by a full on laughing fest. “Oh my God, can you be any more immature?” he said as he lay back on his bed, the guitar falling on his chest.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” I told him, trying to calm my laughter. He glanced at me as I bit my lip.

“This is the neck of the guitar. These are frets, and this is the fretboard,” he explained as he motioned to the area of the guitar where the strings cross. “This is the body of the guitar. This is the saddle and this is the bridge. These are the bridge pins”

“Okay,” I nodded, committing everything to memory.

“This is the pick guard and this is the sound hole,” he told me as he pointed to open circle in the middle of the guitar.

“What happens if your guitar pick falls in there?” I asked as I closed one eye and brought the guitar to my face, peeking into the sound hole.

“You usually violently shake it until it falls out,” he shrugged as he grabbed the guitar from me. Strumming the strings, he cringed. “Yeah, this needs to be tuned.”

Once he finished tuning, he pointed to the thickest string and moved down towards the thinnest string. “This is E. This is A. This is D. This is G. This is B. This is E.”

“Wait, wait, wait, there are two E strings?” I asked him.

“Obviously,” he told me. “Now, which string is which?”

“Uh, I know that these two are both Es,” I said as I pointed to the thinnest string and the thickest string. “And I’m pretty sure that this one is A.”

“Eh! Wrong,” he told me, imitating a buzzer. He began reciting the strings again.

“I got it this time,” I nodded and began pointing to the strings, “E, A, D, G, B, E.”

“Good. I thought it’d take you longer than that,” he responded. Giving him a flat look, I strummed the strings of the guitar. “Oh, that reminds me, you need to learn how to hold a pick.”

“There’s a certain way to hold a pick?” I asked as he reached over and dug through his drawer.

“Yes,” he responded.

“I see why my father didn’t want to play this instrument,” I muttered under my breath.

I accepted the one he handed me and let out a scoff. “Really? Did you go through all the trouble to find this one?”

He grabbed the pick out of my fingers and smirked. “Just for you,” he nodded.

I stared at the pick. It was a hand with middle finger sticking up, facing the front of the pick. I scoffed before twirling it between my fingers. “You hold it like this,” he told me as he held the pick in my face. I blinked, pulling my head back so it wasn’t blurry.

“Okay,” I muttered as I held the pick in my hand.

“Good,” he told me before he continued explaining the basics of the guitar.

<<>><<>>

After about an hour, Noah put his guitar down, telling me that we were taking a break from guitar practice. I sighed gratefully. My hand was cramping up because of the guitar pick and my back was aching from holding the instrument. After placing it beside Noah’s on his bed, I got up, stretching my back.

As Noah stood up a few feet away from me, I noticed a piece of lint on the back of his shirt. I reached out and snagged it, causing him to arch his back and yelp. “Are you ticklish?” I laughed.

“No, you just caught me off guard,” he muttered as he turned away from me again. I reached out and poked him in the side. He jumped and turned around, glaring at me. “Stop,” he demanded.

“You’re ticklish!” I laughed.

“I’m not!” he responded. “I just don’t like being touched, especially in the sides!”

I reached out to poke him again but he stepped back, holding his hands out. “Stop,” he warned me. I continued to walk forward, wiggling my fingers with a grin on my face. “Stop or I will hurt you, Kennedy!”

“No you won’t,” I told him as I lurched forward. Like a scared horse, he jumped back before turning on his heel and running out of his room. I followed him, laughing loudly at how he slipped on the hardwood because of his socks. “Stop, Kennedy!” he called as I continued to follow him, chasing him towards the stairs.

“What’s going on?” Lukas asked as he popped his head out of his room.

“Your son is ticklish,” I called as I followed Noah down the steps, making sure not to fall. I heard Lukas’s laugh from behind me as I hopped down from the last step, gaining on Noah. He slipped at the bottom of the stairs because of his socks but he was quick to get up.

He ran to the front of the couch while I stood behind it. “Move!” Marissa called but Noah was ignoring her. I went to step around the couch but Noah ran to the kitchen. I followed, my laughter mocking him. He went to run past me but I cut him off, cornering him.

“I won’t hesitate to hurt you Kennedy,” he told me as he held his hands out, trying to stop me from advancing.

“Then why didn’t you earlier?” I responded, taking slow steps forward.

“Kennedy,” he told me, “Stop or I will kick you.”

“No you won’t,” I told him, calling his bluff.

I was close enough to tickle him but he caught my hands in his own, twisting me so I was behind him. He made a move to run but he slipped; he fell on his stomach with a thud. Dropping to my knees beside him, I began tickling him, watching as he tried to squirm away from me. He attempted to push my hands away but it was to no avail. His laughter was contagious.

Lukas came into the room, walking towards the fridge. He noticed his son lying on the floor being tickled to death but he ignored it. Noah’s laughter turned to pained gasps. “Stop, Kennedy,” he demanded as he tried to push my hands away from his sides.

“Never,” I responded, continuing to torture him.

“I’ll give you anything,” he responded as he kept trying to fight my tickling fingers, but it was obvious that he was growing tired.

“Anything?” I asked, grinning as I continued to tickle him.

“Yes, just stop,” he whined.

“Anything?” I repeated.

“Yes, don’t be creepy,” he replied. Out of all the things Noah can give me, what do I want?

The truth about him? No, I can’t do that to him.

One of his shirts? That’s probably what he meant by creepy.

A kiss? And it just got creepier.

“I want a hug,” I told him.

“Just one?” Lukas asked as he poured himself some water. “You went through all that trouble for one hug?”

“You’re not helping dad,” Noah groaned from the floor.

“I want unlimited hugs,” I told Noah.

“That’s more like it,” Lukas cheered as he dug through the fridge. Marissa came into the kitchen, looking through the cabinets for a snack.

“Why not throw a kiss in while you’re at it?” Marissa asked.

“I think I’ll stick to the hugs,” I said with a red face. I was growing tired and Noah looked like he was going to pass out.

“Unlimited hugs, Noah,” I told him.

“Fine, just stop,” he said as he curled onto his side. Slowly, I stopped my tickle attack and stood up, cautiously stepping away from him. He lay on the floor in the fetal position muttering about how he was going to kill me. He managed to get up after a few minutes, using his hands and knees for support. As he stood up, he clutched his sides, sending me a glare. “I hate you so much.”

“It’s whatever,” I told him.

<<>><<>>

Rather than actually learning more about the guitar, I requested songs for Noah to play. Many of them, he knew, but some he didn’t. I was surprised when he knew how to play Stacy’s Mom by Fountains of Wayne. He refused to sing though, so I was stuck listening to just the guitar, but I was okay with that.

When Noah finished playing Stacy’s Mom, he placed the guitar on his bed and looked at me. “What songs do you want to learn?”

“I want to learn a few different songs. You probably don’t know them,” I told him as I spun around in the desk chair.

“I might,” he told me with a shrug.

“I’m Yours by Jason Mraz, Hey Soul Sister by Train, Wonderwall by Oasis, Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol, and Wake Me Up When September Ends by Green Day,” I told him. “I have an entire list.”

“I know Wonderwall and Wake Me Up When September Ends,” he told me. “And I know Chasing Cars.”

“How often do you learn songs?” I enquired.

“Every few weeks or so,” he answered.

“What’s the last song you learned?” I questioned.  

“Well, I’m currently learning a song,” he shrugged.

“What song?” I asked as I continued spinning.

“You probably don’t know it,” he evaded my question.

“I might,” I told him. “Try me.”

“No,” he simply replied. I slowly stopped spinning.

“Why not?” I asked curiously, allowing the chair to slowly stop spinning.

“You won’t know it,” he responded.

“Okay, loser,” I told him.

<<>><<>>

I decided to leave at 6 o’clock. Right after our discussion about songs I wanted to play, Noah and I went downstairs and joined Marissa on the couch, where we watched television for half an hour. Noah was still limping slightly thanks to my tickle attack, and probably the fact that he fell two or three times. Every time I laughed at his limp, he would glare at me.

“My ribs hurt,” Noah muttered as I grabbed my guitar from beside the couch.

“That’s not my problem,” I told him.

“Yes it is! You’re the cause of this!” he told me as he stretched himself out on the couch, clutching his side.

Want me to kiss it to make it better? “Stop whining you loser.”

“Stop being such a dork,” he told me.

As I walked out of the house, I couldn’t help but grin. I should bottle this beautiful smell of progress up and name it Koah. Good idea, right?