What Are You Doing?

Noah

Noah was seriously going to have to go out and get laid soon. He couldn't believe he'd gone this long, but wanting to be home spending his time with Roni had won out each time he'd had the opportunity these last few weeks.

What he'd done in the shower today had been happening too often now that he was around her so much. It wasn't going to be enough soon even if he visualized Roni the entire time. It only made him crave the real thing more, especially if things like what happened in the kitchen earlier kept happening.

It was odd to say the least. When he first met her, out of shape, in baggy sweats, the last thing he would've figured her for was a girlie girl. Then watching her work out week after week without a trace of makeup on and her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, he assumed he was right. He'd worked out with girls before, but sweaty or not there was always a telltale sign of girlishness—the manicured nails, cute earrings, or perfectly matched workout outfits.

Roni had none of those things. Even when she started wearing the more flattering workout outfits, she steered far from cutesy and stuck with simple black or gray. Not that her new outfits hadn't driven him insane anyway, particularly when he noticed some of the other guys at the gym eyeing her. He'd openly stared them down, especially when they'd gaped, and silently sent them clear warnings—don't even fucking think about it.

The first time he'd gone in her bathroom, he expected to find lots of lotions and perfumes, maybe even scented candles. But what he'd suspected all along was correct. Roni wasn't a girlie girl. In fact, he'd yet to see her all done up. It was when she was in her loose-fitting, comfortable clothes and fuzzy pajamas that she seemed most in her element. Noah had always been into girlie girls. He liked them to fuss over their hair and loved watching them apply their makeup, especially the lipstick. Roni didn't even wear any, yet something about her exuded femininity. She didn't have to do all those things. And she didn't need makeup or scented lotions. It was all natural with her. It was what he now loved about her.

In the kitchen earlier, he'd barely been able to contain himself. He'd been that close to pulling her to him and taking her mouth in his. The only thing that stopped him was fear of ruining this day he'd so carefully planned out.

He knew Roni was reserved, and in a way, that was also part of the attraction. His days in the ring had been short-lived because of his injury, but he'd been around Abel and Gio enough to know all about the groupies. Neither he nor any of his friends had made it to the big time yet, but even at this level, there were groupies. There was no denying that some of them were hotter than shit, and, of course, he'd had fun with plenty of them. He was a man after all. But there was something refreshing about a girl like Roni.

He'd long ago stopped looking at her as older than him. Of all the girls he'd ever met, he'd never felt as comfortable around any of them as he did with her. He always thought it, but he had no doubts at all now. Age had nothing to do with friendships or any type of relationship. He'd known this his whole life. Some of his closest relationships, male or female, had been with people decades older than him.

Roni was no different. The day she'd told him she was okay with being alone for the holiday, he'd seen right through those big sad eyes. Again this morning, when she walked in the kitchen, trying to pretend she was upset about him not going to Gio's, there was no hiding the glee in those beautiful eyes of hers. In some ways, he felt she was younger than him. She hadn't told him a whole lot yet. Judging from the fact that someone had thought far enough ahead to make sure she was taken care of with a house and all the family portraits he'd been so consumed with since he moved in, he was pretty sure she'd been sheltered most of her life.

He finished getting dressed and braced himself to meet Roni in the kitchen. She was already singing, and that voice of hers could silence a crowd, not because of her singing ability. That was average at best, but that low silky smoothness of her voice could almost put you into a trance. He frowned, remembering how even Abel had noticed it. But Noah had to admit it was hard not to notice. There was something so uniquely mesmerizing about it.

Gio called just as he was getting ready to walk out of his room, and Noah winced, remembering he'd forgotten to call him.

"Hey, Gio, what's up?" Noah could hear the noise in the background. Even this early, Gio probably already had a full house.

"Not much. What time you coming down? Rita is here, and she was asking about you."

Shit. Rita was Gio's cousin from up north. They had sort of a holiday understanding. Since she lived so far and only really came down for the holidays, a relationship was out of the question, not that Noah had ever felt inclined to have one with her. But she was fun and very generous under the sheets. So a few times a year, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter—the holy holidays—they got together. Though their trysts were anything but holy. It was perfect because she openly admitted she wasn't into settling down, so she'd never been clingy. Once she went home, he rarely heard from her except maybe to text him good luck before a fight or a random question here and there. She was a cool chick and hot enough, but most importantly, he never had to worry about her getting hung up on him.

"I meant to call you earlier, man. I'm not gonna make it this year."

"What? What do you mean? Where you gonna be?"

Gio knew better than anyone that unless Noah was spending time with a chick or was at the gym, he really didn't have anywhere else to be. And since Gio's family was the closest thing Noah had to family, he wouldn't pass up spending the holiday with them for a night of lust. But this was different. As cold as the shower had been that he was forced to take earlier, this wasn't about lust. "I'm having dinner here—at home."

The second the words came out, it hit him. He'd never used the word home in relation to where he lived. It was always the Fuentes' place or whatever other foster parents' place he was staying at. The thought nearly suffocated him—he was getting too sucked into this whole thing. He had to keep in mind that this also was only temporary. Just like all the other homes he lived in throughout his life, this was no more his home than any of those had been. So why the hell was he referring to it as that?