5' 8"-5' 9"
Tartlets covered in beer were even better than without it. Noah managed to shove at least a half of what was left when he noticed Andrea and Scott coming towards him. He shoved a couple more just in case.
"Are you okay? I've just seen…" Andrea said nervously, turning the phone in her hand.
"Eferyfin' is fine," mumbled Noah, still chewing his food.
"Oh my God, Noah! If you don't stop eating all this junk food, your acne will never go away!" she frowned and put her hands on her sides.
"Whatever," Noad didn't seem confused, "I like my acne," he declared, touching the pimples on his sharp jawline.
"Don't be stupid!" Andrea was mad, "God, when does it end?" she said, slowly leaning upon the table and looking at her phone screen again. "I don't know who's doing that and why?!"
"Maybe Noah's crossed someone's path?" suggested Scott, meditatively scratching his chin.
"Are you kidding? It's Noah! He wouldn't hurt a fly!" Andrea disagreed passionately. Noah just exhaled loudly as an answer. He thought that no more than 10 minutes had passed since he snatched the opportunity to stay at the party by means of vicious blackmailing. But Andrea wasn't completely wrong. If we try to forget that Noah sometimes has some clashes due to the gossip and rumors, he never gets into a conflict with anyone. He just doesn't have the motivation to do that. He considered himself to be a patient and loyal person with a soft temper. He couldn't even imagine when and where he could hurt someone. Even by accident. On the other hand, Scott was also kinda right. It was at least weird that Noah had been abused for almost two years without a single reason. Every person would get bored doing that with no motivation. If the person or people had a strong reason, it was a whole different thing. A hidden resentment, for example.
"I don't understand then," Scott shrugged his shoulders.
"Me neither," said Andrea, and they both sighed. Noah continued eating. He had nothing to say. He has thought about it a thousand times. He has tried to find a reason a thousand times. And he has come to the same answer each and every time: he has no idea why it's happening to him.
Suddenly, he felt a lump in his throat again. Well, that was a bad time for that. But he swallowed it with another tartlet. Yeah, you can only wish to establish a good relationship with food and get rid of acne, when every day is so shitty that Noah has the same choice every night: a bucket of ice cream or sleeping pills.
"We won't leave you alone today," Andrea said seriously, "And God help me if someone barks at you again!"
"Everyone who wanted to do it has already done it," Noah said carelessly, "But I endured it all bravely! So don't turn the party into a daycare by babysitting me. It's the first day after the summer break. I bet you haven't said hi to at least half of your friends!" In fact he wanted Andrea and Scott to stay with him. But Noah didn't want to ruin friends' evening because of his long, wearisome problem.
"Are you sure?" Andrea asked, looking into his eyes.
"Of course!"
'Of course not!'
"If something happens, promise to call us immediately!" Andrea demanded, already spotting a person from a drunk crowd who was probably one of her friends, looking for Andrea's attention.
"Or scream," advised Scott, who couldn't refuse his mission of bodyguarding Andrea. Noah couldn't blame him.
"I promise to scream at the top of my lungs!" he said, nodding.
"And promise me to stop puttering around the table and meet someone new!" Andrea demanded again, "How long are you going to be all by yourself? I wish you a handsome, tall, and sexy guy who's going to carry you in his arms! You deserve it!"
'He doesn't deserve it, though. What kind of sins does the person need to commit in order to get punished with such a cute guy like me,' Noah thought in response to his friend's advice and nodded. Arguing with Andrea is just going to waste his and her time. Of course, Noah didn't want to meet anyone.
He saw his friends off with a sad look, reaching out to the tartlet plate, when he suddenly understood that the feast was over. The whole situation was screwed up. The reason to chill around the snack table was gone. That was a bummer. There was still some beer left in his cup that Noah sipped only when he needed to swallow the food. Well, he could at least refill it. There were a couple of opened bottles that needed to be made empty. There was also some punch, but everyone was passing on it. Oh my God, the punch! Did Hughes decide to be nostalgic and remember school times?
Noah preferred not to touch the opened bottles, thinking that the beverages were already flat and lost their charm. That's why he chugged the rest of the beer from his cup and scooped himself some punch. Considering the amount of alcohol in the cocktail, Noah was right: Hughes definitely wanted to remember the good old days. Morgan wouldn't be surprised if Rufus was the exact flighty guy who would pour a couple of bottles of vodka into the punch bowl secretly from the teachers at the homecoming. Just as he did today. It was almost impossible to drink this slop. And also dangerous, because Noah has never let himself get drunk at these kinds of parties. Rumors can be rumors, mocking can go on, but the most dangerous thing was that potential 'clients' could sometimes be found after those absurd anonymous messages from the chat. The individuals were usually extremely unpleasant, and, of course, they all claimed that they were straight.
'No worries, I'm into girls. I'm just curious!' the usual song. And after Noah would back out, new rumors would suddenly appear, according to which Morgan was blowing a hobo for a bottle of beer. Or he was getting dicked by the professor in a store room for another credit point. Have you guys heard that Morgan jacked off that guy from a senior class at the library because he helped him with the lectures? There are tons of different variations. One is worse than the other.
Diving into depressive thoughts, Noah sipped some of that weird vodka cocktail and decided that it wasn't that bad, actually. The most important thing was to hold his temper.
"Hi" something reached his ear, but Noah paid no attention and decided that somebody started a conversation beside him. "Hey…" Noah suddenly felt something cold and metal touching his cheek, and flinched a bit. He turned around. There was that same guy in a mask standing in front of him. After getting Noah's attention, he put away a pen that he touched Noah with in his front pocket.
'Well, it seems like you have a way bigger problem with touching than I thought?' Morgan was surprised but decided to keep it to himself. He was staring at the guy instead. It was a surprise for Noah that a new companion was half a head shorter than him. On the couch, accompanied by twins, he created a way more powerful impression.
'At least, he's not dangerous for me,' Noah calmed himself. Though he was almost sure that the guy in front of him wasn't one of those who would want to fit in his client base and then spread nasty rumors about him.
"Hi," Noah forced himself to speak and sipped his punch for the third time, just in case. He tried to look cool, but his hand, which was holding a cup, was shaking a bit. People don't usually speak to Noah. Moreover, if they speak to him, they usually do it for a fight or a nasty joke. That's why he was ready to hear something disgusting and take it on the chin with a smile. That's fine; the clock is ticking. Sooner or later, he'll get home and will be able to cry about every single unpleasant thing of the night.
"I'm Ethan. And you're Noah, correct?"
'Maybe it's a scam with some hidden video camera? He'll pretend to be nice to me and then knock the punch over him? Or he'll spit in my cup? What's he up to?' Noah was panicking. His hand started shaking more.
"Correct," Noah forced himself again, staring at his cup with a look like he hoped that this plastic thing could beat the shit out of anyone.
"How did you know?" he heard instead of the usual 'Is the blowjob option still working?'
"Huh? Excuse me? What are you talking about?" Noah was confused and thought that he probably looked extremely stupid.
"About the touching thing," the guy was patiently trying to explain, wandering with his eyes around Noah's face. Morgan got a little confused and touched his right cheekbone reflexively. When Noah was stressed, he would often start picking his acne. That habit was calming him down, but it was usually driving Andrea nuts. His friend has been telling him that he is making it worse.
"Oh, that," Noah said slowly, trying to hide from the wandering look. "I just saw it."
"He just saw it," the guy said slowly, like the word 'just' wasn't fitting the phrase, "If it had been just easy to see, others would have noticed it already," he parried. "Not the only guy during the 4th year of studies."
'The 4th year?' Noah was surprised, 'You've been having it for 4 years? Oh, dear God.'
"I sorta have a superpower," Morgan smiled nervously, trying to look as chill as possible. There were no cameras around. And it seemed like nobody wanted to ask him to blow anyone. It was hard to believe, but Ethan really seemed like he wanted to ask him a question. It felt so weird to talk to someone casually. "My friend calls it 'Devil's Eye'," he explained, pointing at his left eye. It was the left eye because, on the contrary to the right eye, the left eye couldn't see well, but Noah has never worn glasses or contacts. Keen-sighted right eye was enough for life, so that's why he considered the left eye to be the devil's one.
"So what does this superpower do?"
Noah thought that Ethan would be disgusted. Or he would laugh. Or, maybe, he would decide that Noah is a freak. But he didn't expect that he would take his words so seriously. It's weird, but even with a medical mask on, it was easy to read Ethan's emotions because of his eyes. He wasn't mocking him.
"I notice things that others ignore," Noah explained, "Well, for example…" he took his phone out of his pocket and started looking for something until he found one of the pictures saved from the Internet. "What's the first thing you notice?" he showed the screen to Ethan. The guy looked closely at the picture.
"The guy who's eating some chicken," Ethan said after a second of silence.
"And me, I see the cat that's gagging on the floor," Noah pointed to the left corner of the picture, where you could barely see a cat's shadow figure arching its back with its mouth open.
"Oh…"
"Yup."
"So, you're saying that you noticed my problem after taking a single look at me? - Ethan said suspiciously."
"Why single, though? I was looking at you earlier," Noah answered and then understood how creepy it sounded. "I mean, I've been looking at everyone here. Out of boredom," he started explaining immediately, taking another sip out of his cup.
What a nice punch. Yummy!
"If that's your secret, please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything bad. I was tired of looking at how they were torturing you," he exhaled the phrase with effort.
"It's not a secret," Ethan shook his head, "I just didn't want to start the subject because I don't want to answer the questions. I don't wanna talk about it. So you kind of did me a favor: nobody would admit that they believed you, because your reputation, as far as I understood, is capable of improvement. But your note would make them notice it. So I'm grateful."
Noah froze; he couldn't believe what he heard. What's going on? Ethan came up to him to say thank you? That's so… sweet.
"But I can't take your word," Ethan continued, narrowing his lids a bit. "Prove it."
That wasn't sweet at all.
"I showed you the picture."
"That's not enough."
"Okay, but why would I want to prove anything to you?" Noah was surprised, "If you don't believe me, that's fine," he shrugged his shoulders.
"If you're lying and you found out about my…m-m-m…weakness some other way - that's a problem."
"Whose problem?"
"Mine. And yours."
"And what's that got to do with me?" Noah frowned and almost screamed after, 'Why is it always my fault?'
He came here to start a fight after all. And he was so naive to believe someone again.
"Because you know something you shouldn't."
"I don't know anything!" Noah was pissed off, regretting that he didn't mind his own business. Nobody's forced his hand! Why does he never learn his lesson?!
Noah was annoyed and turned his back on Ethan, ready to go away to another side of the table, showing that their conversation was over. But he didn't succeed in escaping. Ethan grabbed the edge of his shirt and pulled it towards him, not letting him leave.
"Prove it," he said with pressure in his voice.
'Oh, screw you!'
"Okay, you want proof, here you go," Noah said crossly, "Point at anyone you wanna find out something nasty about."
Ethan tapped a finger against his chin thoughtfully, and then he nodded towards the guy near the bookshelf, who was professionally flirting with a freshman girl.
"He's got a terrible complex about his small dick".
Ethan raised an eyebrow and looked at Noah with that expression on his face.
"Let me anticipate your question: no, I haven't seen his dick. And I'm not gonna claim that it's small. He thinks it's small. I had an unpleasant moment seeing him fix his underwear with a lift once."
"That's nuts," Noah commented, "A lift in his underwear won't make him an ace in a bed. Neither a big size."
"Yeah, probably…" Noah answered nervously. "Is that all? Can I go now?"
"No, that's not enough. One more," demanded Ethan, grabbing Noah's shirt again.
"I'm not your circus monkey," Noah spitted out, but Ethan didn't notice his comment or stop holding his shirt. "Okay," Noah gave up, "Who's next?"
"Hughes."
"He's afraid of his father to death."
"Are you kidding?"
"No."
"He pretends like he doesn't give a damn, though."
"He's too dependent on the opinion of others. If you start condemning him, I bet he'll start crying like a baby in front of everyone."
"Heh. I should give it a try once," Ethan said. Considering the tone of his voice, he was smiling.
"Aren't you guys friends?" Noah wondered.
"Hughes and I?" Now you could hear neglect in his voice. "I better throw myself down the well."
That comment amused Noah. It turns out he wasn't the only person at this party who couldn't stand the host.
"So be it, choose the third one," Noah graciously let him pick. Ethan examined the room until his eyes stopped on a guy with a girl who were cuddling in a beanbag. The guy was touching her thigh, and the girl was ogling at him from time to time and then switching her glance to cold and aloof. Oddly, but her strategy worked a miracle, stirring the guys' interest.
"That guy," Ethan nodded without taking his eyes off them.
"Oh, that's too easy," Noah shrugged, "He's hanging out at every party, though he's not from the campus. There's a 99% chance he sells dope to students," he said and sighed.
"Are you sure?" Ethan's voice suddenly became deeper and even angrier.
"Hm…I've never seen it myself, but I trust my guts," mumbled Noah, getting confused because of the changes in Ethan's mood.
"Well. I'll try to trust it, too. Let's see what's gonna happen," he said and left towards the couple.
5' 3"
Ethan knew that Audrey could do anything to piss him off. But making out with a local dealer was too much.
"What the hell are you doing?" he exhaled and stood in front of them, blocking the lights.
"The hell I want," she answered slowly, showing that she couldn't care less about her brother's opinion.
"What's up with the dwarf?" the guy snorted, looking at him from head to foot. "I hope that's not your ex."
"Ew, gross!" Audrey screamed, fully disgusted, "That's my younger brother."
"Really? And how old is he? Like fourteen?"
"Twenty-two," Ethan said and clenched his fists.
"Ha! Genetics showed no mercy and gave the best to your sister, didn't it?"
Why is everyone so concerned about Ethan's height? Especially, when he was standing next to his long-legged sister Audrey. Their height difference was so obvious that people decided not to notice any other big differences between them. They didn't share the same genetics because they had different fathers. Audrey's dad gave her good height, thick dark hair, and dusky skin. Ethan, on the other hand, got gray eyes, pale skin, and light straight hair as a gift from his dad. His height was his mother's gift, though. Ethan didn't see a problem with that. People and their stereotypical thinking were driving him nuts. They were persistently trying to impose a complex on the things he couldn't be responsible for. How is it even possible to humiliate someone based on the physical characteristics that they were born with? It's so dumb.
"I don't trust him," Ethan said guardedly, ignoring the guy's answer.
"Since when does my private life bother you?" Audrey snorted.
"It has always bothered me," Ethan parried.
"Sure," the girl winced.
"That's true."
"I can talk to anyone I want," she stated defiantly.
"That's true. You can talk to anyone you want if that 'anyone' doesn't sell dope."
"I've no idea what you're talking about," Audrey said with a voice 'I know everything, and I don't give a damn'. Ethan clenched his fists again. It's usually said on the Internet that the main thing in people's relationships is to build a healthy dialogue. Ethan has tried to do the same with his sister multiple times, but nothing has worked. It's difficult to follow the advice and articulate yourself when there's no instruction on how to make the other person listen.
"Back off from my sister," Ethan growled, trying to concentrate on the guy. It was pointless to persuade Audrey, as usual.
"You look like a chihuahua – small and noisy. And you also probably pee everyone," dealer chuckled, not even thinking of putting his hand away from Audrey's thigh. "Out of curiosity, what's gonna happen if I don't?"
"You'll regret it," Ethan promised.
"Oh, cut your crap!" screamed Audrey, because, unlikely from her date, she was fully aware that Ethan wasn't the man to make idle threats. "We're just talking. He's not selling me anything, okay? And even if he would…" Audrey stopped short, "I'm not gonna make family mistakes again," she said acidly.
"Get out of my sight, you piece of shit," Ethan spat a phrase, trying to provoke him on purpose. He said it loud enough that it was impossible to ignore. There were too many eyes staring.
"If you think I'll show mercy just because this chick is your sister, you're extremely wrong!" the guy threatened him.
"Then show me what you can. Punch me," suggested Ethan, not hoping for mercy. His expectations were met. A provocative wink was enough for the dealer to jump out of the beanbag aggressively, push Audrey rudely away from his lap, and start swinging at Ethan. Ethan counted everything, but he completely forgot about his reflexes. He should've taken that punch, but his fist rushed forward unconsciously, right into his enemy's face. Who said that small height means less strength? Ethan could easily prove the fools who believed that stereotype otherwise.
Dealer fell back into his beanbag, holding at his battered lips.
"You bitch!" he spitted out angrily, planning another attempt to attack Ethan, but Audrey stopped him just in time. She grabbed his hand and pulled it towards her.
"Forget about the jerk. Let's leave this lame party together," she offered. The guy winced. He probably thought that Audrey was trying to save her little brother. But she didn't try to save Ethan.
'Miss the punch. Just one punch. You have to do it' Ethan was saying it over and over again in his head, trying to suppress his instinct of self-preservation. It was a necessity in case her sister's date decided to go to the police. There was almost a zero percent chance of it due to his occupation, but a little insurance would never hurt. He couldn't say it was self-defense. Ethan punched first. But still, a missed punch could transform a battery into a fight of some sort. And after that, in court, Ethan could use the stereotypes about his height and cute face to his own advantage.
After pushing Audrey away, the guy attacked Ethan again. He could easily dodge the dealer's slow and awkward blow, but he preferred to clench his teeth and take it. His nose burst into pain. The mask absorbed blood immediately. But Ethan remained standing. He learned how to take a punch a long time ago.
'That's right,' Ethan was satisfied, feeling a metallic taste on his tongue, "Now it's my turn."