Filmed: An Alpha Bad Boy Romance (City Series Book 3) (7 page)

But the question was, did it?

Noah wasn’t his father. The children of bad people aren’t necessarily bad themselves, although Noah certainly was an asshole. Was being a complete and total douchebag heritable? Was evil genetic, like brown or blue eyes? So far, Noah hadn’t shown me anything particularly awful; on the contrary, he was trying to help out a friend of his, and he seemed genuinely interested in me. But he was constantly making sexual jokes and acting so cocky.

Being an asshole was one thing, but was he a bad person, too?

I shook my head, completely taken aback. “That’s a lot to take in,” I said.

“You really shouldn’t worry about it, honey. This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“But Mr. Carterson did something awful to you. Something seriously evil, Mom.”

“He did, but he isn’t his son.”

“I know Mom, but still, it’s hard to pretend like I didn’t hear that story.”

Suddenly, she got a very serious look on her face. She nodded her head once, and reached out to take my hand. “Listen to me, Linda. You can’t judge a son based on the sins of his father. If Noah Carterson is a decent guy, then I say you should give him a chance. And this is coming from someone who genuinely despises his father.”

That little speech wasn’t like her. Normally, she was more passive, and actively avoided giving me advice. I smiled and squeezed her hand in return, and felt genuinely glad she had decided to break her own non-intervention rules.

“Thanks, Mom. I’ll think about it.”

She nodded and pulled her hand away. “Good,” she said, and then started to gather her things. We paid the bill and left, my mind still reeling from her story.

We parted ways at the subway station, and I climbed down the stairs in a daze of confusion. I didn’t know what I should expect from Noah, or if there was even any reason to expect anything. He was being nice to me, but that could have been only because we were going to have to work together.

More than that, did he know about what happened between our parents?

––––––––

B
ack home, I climbed the stairs into the apartment, buzzing with confusion and nervous energy. Unfortunately, Chris wasn’t home, and I had nobody to talk endlessly at until I worked myself into some semblance of sanity. Instead, I collapsed onto the couch. I flicked on the TV and surfed through the channels. Noah had seemed normal the last time I talked to him, despite my accidentally insulting him. We had a lot in common, actually, and even shared the same taste in movies. In my book, that was the most important thing in the world.

And yet he had such a fucked up past. His father was clearly an awful human being, and Noah didn’t seem much better. He was a womanizer and a drinker. He kept calling me by that awful nickname, even though I asked him multiple times to stop. His perfect smile, great sense of style, and amazing body annoyed the hell out of me. It pissed me off how much I found myself thinking about him.

If he was so terrible, why couldn’t I just start ignoring him? There were plenty of guys at Temple, and some of them were pretty hot. I was sure I could meet someone else with a similar taste in movies if that was what I really wanted. Why was Noah Carterson the man that stuck out in my head?

Trying to distract myself, I pulled out my laptop and logged in. I opened up Facebook and stopped short in my tracks when I saw the New Message icon at the top of my screen. I had completely forgotten about adding him earlier, like an idiot. My heart began to hammer in my chest, and I was nervous to read his message. I clicked the icon and the window popped up at the bottom of my screen.

Noah: Thanks for the add, dots.

That was it. Nothing else, no jokes about me stalking him, nothing. I stared at the message for a second, and then decided to type back.

Me: Stop calling me dots. And you’re welcome.

I hit send, then clicked his name and started paging through his pictures. They were the pretty typical college bro pics, plenty of drinking with his boys, boring stuff. But I started to notice that there were different girls in almost every set of pictures, as if he went out with different people every night.

Or, he was meeting new girls every night. That pretty much solidified his reputation in my mind. Noah Carterson was definitely a player, although I had to admit that didn’t necessarily mean he was a bad person. I noticed there weren’t any pictures of his family, and I realized I didn’t know anything about them, except for who his father was. I didn’t know his mother, or if he had any siblings, or if he was close to his grandparents, or his cousins. Basically, I knew nothing about him.

Suddenly, the sound on my computer dinged loudly, and I turned it down, startled. I was constantly forgetting to turn down my volume, and it was always scaring the crap out of me.

When I looked back at the screen, I got the second biggest fright of the day: Noah had sent me another message. There was a little green dot next to his name, which meant he was currently online, and currently messaging me.

I stared at it for a second, at a loss. I hadn’t planned on actually talking to him. I clicked his name and the window popped back up.

Noah: Don’t be so sensitive, dots. It’s a compliment that I keep thinking about your underwear.

He could be such an asshole. And yet I was blushing, and my heart began to pound. He hadn’t been so direct before, and always skirted outright saying what he meant. I guessed talking online gave him a little extra confidence, or at least he wasn’t afraid of me punching him in the nose.

Me: Keep it up and I’m going to pour popcorn over your head at work.

Noah: I welcome that. I love popcorn.

Me: Not when you get that fake butter stuff in your hair.

Noah: Don’t assume. I love fake butter, too.

I couldn’t help but smile. He was fast, and always seemed to have a comeback prepared. That was something I liked about Noah: he was clearly smart, sharp, and funny. He could be a total jerk sometimes, but I had to admit that I did like sparring with him. I hadn’t met too many guys that could keep up with me, let alone guys that held their own. Noah was a rare breed. I just wished he would stop calling me “dots.”

Me: Okay then, we’ll find out.

Noah: Looking forward to it. What are you up to?

Me: Not much. Just got back from lunch with my mom. You?

Suddenly, I felt awkward about having mentioned my mom. What if he knew about his dad and my mom? Noah was into the whole film community, and so it wouldn’t be super unlikely that he had heard her name, and he could have put two and two together since I last asked him about our parents. I wasn’t sure how I felt about any of it, let alone how it affected Noah and I. Truthfully, it shouldn’t change the way I saw him at all. But I couldn’t help but imagine my poor mother, kicked out of her dream career because of some petty movie producer.

Noah: Not much. Killing time in the library.

Me: That’s pretty cool, you’re such a good student.

Noah: Nah, not really, dots. Feel like doing something?

That took me by surprise. Noah wanted to hang out with me again? What was with that guy? One second I was insulting him, and the next he was pretending like it never happened, and everything was cool. I shook my head in disbelief. I did want to see him, and it wasn’t like I had anything better to do. As I began to type back to him, I suddenly stopped and stared at the screen.

The story my mom had told me, mixed with the pictures of all those girls he was trying to pick up, or whatever he was doing with them, suddenly burrowed themselves into my mind. I imagined trying to sit there with him and not say something about what his dad did to my mom, and I couldn’t. I knew that I’d have to confront him about it, especially since I had just found out about it less than an hour or two ago. I doubted Noah was the type to take that sort of thing very well; he’d probably storm off, and our working relationship would be awful. I couldn’t just attack the guy. He may not even know what had happened. And plus, like my mom said, it was all in the past. I should give Noah a chance.

Or should I? It wasn’t like he was hurting for company. Confused and a little bit angry, I slammed my laptop lid shut, putting it to sleep. From his end, he’d see the little dot next to my name disappear, and I’d never respond. I groaned and resisted the urge to throw my laptop across the room. I stopped myself, deciding that I shouldn’t take my own indecisiveness out on my computer. It was completely innocent, after all.

Frustrated and confused, I retreated into my bedroom to read. Instead, I floated between book and daydream, worrying over how Noah would react to my non-response, and wondering why I even cared. I didn’t owe him anything.

Then again, I couldn’t stop thinking about him imagining my underwear, either.

E
ventually, Chris came home, and I full-on assaulted her with the details of the day. I spared nothing, beginning with my mom’s story, and ending with my conversation with Noah. As usual, she listened patiently, and by the end I felt a little bit better. Even if I hadn’t answered any of my own questions, it was a good stress release to have it all out in the open.

“Seems like a pickle,” Chris said slowly once I was done.

“You’re not kidding,” I said, laughing.

“Well, no. I said,
seems like
, but it really isn’t.”

That wasn’t what I expected. “What do you mean?”

She sighed and leaned back in her chair. We were perched around the kitchen table eating macaroni and cheese for dinner, which was our go-to comfort food for whenever one of us was in a bad mood. I loved that she sacrificed her calories for the greater good, or at least for my sanity.

“Your mom said it herself. You can’t blame him for what his dad did.”

“Yeah, I know that. But he’s such an asshole. How can I know he didn’t pick that up from his dad?”

“I get what you’re saying, but there’s a difference between being a jerk and giving you an annoying nickname, and sabotaging someone’s career.”

She had a pretty good point there. “But what about the rumors? All the girls in his Facebook pictures?”

She shrugged and shook her head. “I really have no idea. If it helps, Selena is usually full of shit.”

I laughed. Selena did strike me as someone who loved gossip, and I probably couldn’t trust half of what she said.

“And plus,” Chris continued before I could respond. “Why does that even matter? So what if he’s been with some other girls?”

“I’m not really looking to be a one and done, Chris,” I said.

“True, but he seems like he’s actually into you.”

That made me pause. “What about all of this makes you think that?”

“He keeps trying to hang out with you. He’s obviously flirting.”

I shook my head. “He’s just like that. I’m sure he asked out ten other girls before me earlier.”

She sighed and took a big bite of her food. “I don’t know, honestly. You could be right, and he could be the evil offspring of an evil asshole.”

I groaned and threw my head back. “So you see my frustration!”

She laughed. “And you see why I don’t date.”

I grinned and took a big bite. Even if she was sometimes a little blunt and calculating, Chris had a way of making me feel better.

“Why don’t you just, I don’t know, ask him about it?”

“He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who has deep conversations about his family with near-strangers.”

“That’s fair. But this is my advice anyway: talk to him about it. Worst-case scenario, he tells you to fuck off, and what’s done is done. But maybe you’ll want to hear what he has to say.”

I nodded and chewed thoughtfully. She had a pretty good point. It wasn’t like I was going to lose anything. Noah and I didn’t exactly have a relationship. And I wasn’t even sure that was something I wanted. More than anything, I didn’t want work to become a nightmare of drama. Still, if I didn’t ask him, I’d constantly wonder, and probably act weird.

What was better: quietly suffering, or risk seeming like a psycho?

––––––––

T
he weekend flew by after that. I spent most of my time studying, trying to keep up with my classes. My social life was beginning to suffer already, but there was nothing I could do about that. I promised I’d make more time for fun stuff the following weekend.

Finally, Monday came, and I felt nervous as I made my way to my film history class. I’d probably see Noah, and I had no clue if he’d sit next to me again or not. He might have been annoyed that I blew him off the other day. Or maybe he was too busy with any of his other conquests to even notice. Worried, I pushed through the door and walked into the classroom.

I let out a sigh of relief. Noah wasn’t there yet. I hadn’t expected him to be, since I was about ten minutes early and he never showed up until the last minute, but for some irrational reason I was afraid I’d have to choose whether to sit next to him or not. Fortunately, I got a prime seat toward the front of the room.

The class slowly filled up, and Professor Johnson began to set up for his lecture. I craned my neck toward the doorway, but Noah was nowhere to be seen. As Professor Johnson began his lecture, I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach.

The period crawled by as a thousand different thoughts ran through my mind. Was Noah skipping because I had blown him off? Or was he sick? Maybe he was too busy getting his rocks off with some slut he met over the weekend. Midway through the lecture, I realized I had barely paid any attention. I was too busy obsessing about what Noah may or may not be doing, and I wasn’t exactly being generous, either. Feeling a little bad, I buckled down and took decent notes for the last half of the class.

Finally, the lecture was over, and I began to pack up my stuff. On a whim, I pulled out my phone, opened my Facebook app, and checked my messages. To my surprise, there was one glowing red notification. I tapped the screen and read Noah’s name. Butterflies leapt into my stomach.

Noah: Hey dots, can’t make it to class today. Could I borrow your notes tonight at work? Thanks...

I hadn’t expected to hear from him, but I felt relieved for some reason. It meant that he hadn’t skipped class because of me. I realized I was being a little silly; Noah doesn’t plan his life around me. I typed him a quick message back, hit send, and put my phone away. I put a reminder in my phone to bring my notes with me to work, gathered my stuff up, and then left the classroom. Suddenly, I wasn’t dreading my first night at the theater anymore. In fact, I was finally looking forward to something.