Page 22 of The King Contract
“Coming from the smartest person I’ve ever met, that doesn’t really say much,” he replies. “Everything’s dumb to you.” He grips my hand and swings, but I yank on his hand to knock it off.
“No, it’s not,” I huff. “But this? This is the dumbest of dumb things.”
“And yet, you agreed to it,” Noah says, smiling down at me smugly. His eyes flash with warning. “Signature and all, Miss Schofield.”
I dig my nails into his palm again.
As we reach the main road, the shops come into view. My hands grow clammy as I note the number of people milling around the carpark, doing their own shopping or stopping to buy lottery tickets and cigarettes. I want to vomit.
“Your hand is sweaty,” he mutters.
“I’m not apologising for that,” I snap.
Noah slows his steps and spins me so I’m facing him, his free hand settling on my lower back. I tilt my head to meet his gaze and almost jump back at his intensity.
“This doesn’t have to be a chore,” he says. “You’re allowed to have fun, you know.”
“Call me old-fashioned,” I reply. “But my version of fun rarely involves forced interaction with someone I barely know.”
“I’m going to tuck your hair behind your ear now,” he warns.
My eyes widen in panic and Noah’s lips twitch, as if he knows the control it’s taking me not to react.
The hand at my back comes to the side of my face and slowly he pushes a wad of wayward curls behind my ear, sending tingles down my spine. “What do you do for fun?”
I blink a few times. “For fun?”
“Yeah, you know, your hobbies, for instance?”
“I recently got back into photography,” I reply.
Noah winces. “I’m sorry again about the camera. I didn’t realise how important it was to you.”
The pained expression on his face tugs at my heartstrings thetiniestbit, and I offer him a half-smile. “I’ve got plenty of sentimental things from my aunt, don’t worry. Beansis one of them. Although the truth is I’m working long-ass days at the store or I’m at home thinking about how to keep the store functioning, so there’s not much time for photographic dabbling.”
Noah wrinkles his crooked nose. “Did you end up studying health science? I read in the yearbook you wanted to go into that industry after school?”
My mouth drops open. “You can read?”
“Shocking, I know. Did you study it?”
“I got my degree in pharmacy.”
Noah looks at me expectantly. “And?”
I shrug. “I don’t think pharmacy is for me.”
Bitter disappointment drips down my throat as I say those words. No one warns you what it feels like to be laser-focused on a goal, only to have it not meet your expectations at the end.
Noah must sense a shift in my mood, because he curls a non-existent lock of hair behind my ear again. I fire a warning shot at him, and he grins. “Have a think about whatmightbe for you. Let’s figure out what you like and help you make time for some more hobbies.Afteryou help me, of course.” He grabs my hand again and pulls me towards the grocery store.
I stew on his words as we near the doors. In high school, I was so much more involved with life. I wasn’t athletic like Noah, but I was busy. At school, you’re forced into trying new things and opportunities are laid out for you; school newspaper, concert band, organising charity events. I got so into photography, for a while I thought I’d make it my profession. I used to spend hours in the library, reading every book that had beautiful photos of animals and cities and waves. Especially, waves.
My life as an adult has been nowhere near as fruitful and it’s not because my aunt got sick. I wasn’t doing anything exciting before life shifted with her diagnosis. How have I let the things that used to bring me immense joy slip away as if they were nothing?
We enter the store, and Noah greets the cashier jovially, grabbing a shopping basket on the way past. She smiles brightly at him and when her eyes shift to me, they widen, as if she’s in on a big secret. Noah continues to act like it’s normal and pulls me into his side, curving his arm around my waist as he steers us towards the Asian import section.
“On the subject of hobbies, cooking is one of mine,” Noah says, releasing me to crouch down. He thumbs through the packets on the shelves with ease, selecting items he needs like he’s done this a million times.
