Protect You (Beaumont University BU

Book 2) Ashley Rayne

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Protect You
Beaumont University BU Book Two

Ashley Rayne
Copyright © 2023 by Ashley Rayne

All rights reserved.

This novel is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents portrayed in this
book are either the product if the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any
similarity to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is coincidental and not
intended by the author. Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features
are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are only used for reference.
There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electrical or mechanical
means, including information storage and retrieval systems without written permission from
the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design: Pretty Indie https://www.prettyindie.com/

Editor: Jen Sharon https://www.jensharon.com/

Proofreader: Ashley http://www.ashleyvscomma.com/
 About the Book

W hatAsher
happens when you fall in love with your roommate?

The emotions that I tried to hide behind the constant bickering are
finally out there.
Our never-ending fighting stops. The dinners I make for us have
become a routine.
The next thing I know, my roommate is my boyfriend, and
everything is falling into place.
Noah
Until everything falls apart.
All Asher wants to do is shield me from the hardened world around
us, but the one thing he can’t protect me from is myself.

Will Asher and Noah’s love be strong enough to survive life’s twists,
or will the imperfections overwhelm the happiness it can bring?
Protect You is the second book in the Beaumont University series,
where each book follows a new couple through their journey to an
HEA. This book is an MM romance in a college setting with
roommates-to-lovers, a size difference, and a virgin MC.
 Authors Note

H elloMany
readers!
times as readers we read many different stories to
escape real life for a little while. And while I would love for you to
start this story right away, I understand that some readers have
triggers and it can affect them while they're reading a story and I
would hate for you to come across something that upsets you
without knowing what to expect. I also know that people have
different triggers and what affects one person may not affect the
next. On the next page, I have listed the possible triggers for this
story. If you do not need to read the content warnings, please skip
the next page. If you are a reader who needs it, please make sure
you do read the following page. Thank you for taking the time to
read Asher and Noah.
-Ashley Rayne
 Content Warnings

A lthough handled with the utmost care, this story includes content
that may be uncomfortable for some readers. This story includes
on page content of
 prescription medication abuse/addiction

For those readers who need to know specifics, the prescription

medication is Adderall which is most commonly used with ADHD. I
took time to make sure I handled this content as careful as I could,
but please also remember this is a fiction story. I understand if you
need to skip this one, however, I hope you pick up another book of
mine in the future.
If you or someone you know struggles with substance abuse
please contact your national hotline.
Please contact the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services
Administration's (SAMHSA) National Helpline or at 1-800-662-HELP
(4357).
 Table of Contents

1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
17. Chapter Seventeen
18. Chapter Eighteen
19. Chapter Nineteen
20. Chapter Twenty
21. Chapter Twenty-One
22. Chapter Twenty-Two
23. Chapter Twenty-Three
24. Chapter Twenty-Four
25. Chapter Twenty-Five
26. Chapter Twenty-Six
27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
28. Chapter Twenty-Eight
29. Epilogue
30. Extended Epilogue
31. Thank You
32. Also By Ashley Rayne
33. About the Author
34. Acknowledgements
35. Stalk Me
 Chapter One

Asher

“F uck, you’re so tight.”

Another loud guttural moan hits my ears and I roll over,
yanking my cotton pillow over my head. Ugh. Not again. I love that
two of my roommates figured their shit out and got together, but I
also really love my sleep. And lately that hasn’t been happening as
often with all the porn noises coming from the bedroom down the
hall. If only I had the room downstairs. I bet Noah doesn’t have to
deal with all this ridiculousness.
Even though I might sound a little salty, I’m genuinely happy for
them. Except for times like this, when it’s glaringly obvious that I’ve
been stuck in a rut. All the sex noises just remind me of the sex I
am not getting. And haven’t been getting in a while.
Grabbing my phone off the side table, I look at the time. 7:45.
Might as well get up anyway. Moving quickly, I shower in the
bathroom in the main hall and get dressed. As I’m passing Carter’s
door, I bang on it loudly and smirk when Carter yelps. Yeah, fuckers,
you’re not quiet. We can hear you.
Rushing down the stairs, I reach the kitchen, skidding to a stop
when I see Noah at the kitchen counter. He’s sitting on a barstool at
the counter, shirtless, eating a bowl of cereal, a look of concentration
on his face. His hair is a mess of brown, untamed curls that I would
love to run my hands through. My fingers are always itching to touch
him, to pull his body against mine.
Noah was a new roommate at the beginning of this school year.
Carter, West and I met him at a pride event before the school year
started and as soon as I laid eyes on him, I was smitten. He’s the
complete opposite of me in the looks department. Where I’m big
and bulky, he’s small and petite. A true twink. He has these
gorgeous brown curls and vivid green eyes I could easily get lost in.
I’m still staring when Noah looks up and groans, causing me to
flinch and quickly close my eyes.
I don’t know when it happened, but for some reason, everything I
do sets Noah off. If I’m lucky, he’ll be playful with me, but 99% of
the time he treats me like I’m a bug he wants to squash. If I didn’t
know any better, I would think it’s some type of foreplay, but Noah
has never given any indication that he sees me that way.
“What’s up?” I ask him as I head toward the pantry to see what
food we have.
“Nothing really. I start the new job at the coffee shop today.
Thanks again for showing it to me. I owe you,” he says before
shoveling another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
“Of course, man. It’s no problem.”
I don’t know much about Noah’s home life, but I know his parents
don’t have a lot of money. They weren’t able to afford for Noah to
go home for the summer, so he was looking for a part-time job to
help him with some extra cash. There’s this coffee shop near the
university that I favor, and when I saw they were hiring, I let Noah
know. Luckily for me, I’m friends with Trish, the manager of Brewz,
so I was able to put in a good word for him.
I snatch a granola bar from the pantry and walk over to the
counter. Unwrapping the bar, I take a big bite just as West and
Carter stroll into the kitchen. I make eye contact with West and raise
my eyebrow.
“Thanks for the show,” I joke.
 West smirks like the cat that ate the canary, while Carter groans
softly.
“Sorry man. I know it’s not something you wanna hear, but also,
I’m not sorry, ‘cause damn…” West says, while Carter’s face turns
beet red, and he smacks his chest playfully.
“God, you’re incorrigible,” Carter whispers before turning and
nuzzling into West’s chest.
Noah drops his spoon in his bowl with a loud ting and pushes it
away from him on the counter.
“And on that note, I’m no longer hungry.”
We all laugh as I walk over to the fridge and grab two cold bottles
of water. I close the door with my hip and make my way next to
Noah. Setting the water bottle down in front of him, I have to hide a
smile when he twists open the cap and takes a sip.
“What time are you heading over to Brewz?” I ask.
Noah looks at his phone and then jumps off the stool. “Shit. I have
to be there in an hour. I need to start getting ready.” He heads
toward the hallway before he pauses and turns around. “Do you
guys wanna stop by today?” A smile overtakes my face at the
thought of him wanting me to be there.
“Duh. You thought you would have your first day, and we wouldn’t
come?”
West seconds what I say. “Of course, we’re coming. You couldn’t
keep us away.”
Noah smiles and my heart stops. His grin could end all wars. It’s a
huge, bright smile that transforms his entire face. His eyes crinkle in
the corners, and it shows off his straight white teeth. If you thought
Noah was gorgeous before, it doesn’t hold a candle to when he’s
happy.
“Thanks guys,” he says before he leaves the kitchen to get ready.
I’m still staring after him when a throat clears, and I glance to the
right. Carter is smiling and West slowly shakes his head. They don’t
even have to say anything. I already know I’m so fucked when it
comes to Noah. Shrugging, I avert my eyes and change the subject
before they can say something.
 “When are you guys heading home?” I ask, grabbing my granola
bar off the counter and finishing it.
West and Carter are going home for the summer. They only live an
hour away from BU, the university we all attend, but it’s still going to
be weird having an empty house. Our other roommate, Ronan, left a
couple of days ago to head home for the summer too.
Carter walks over and sits on the barstool that Noah just vacated,
resting his head on his fist.
“We’re leaving after we check in with Noah. We were planning to
leave sooner, but when he told us that today is his first day, we
wanted to wait and see him.”
Slowly, I incline my head and take a sip of my water. “Sounds
good. What do you guys have planned for the summer? Besides the
obvious.” I wink.
West walks over and casually puts his arm around Carter’s
shoulders, pulling him closer to him. “Spend some time with our
family. Hang out at the beach. Carter’s brother, Seth, wants to go
camping for some god-awful reason, so we’re stuck doing that.”
Carter relaxes his body into West, while West softly kisses his
temple. My heart squeezes at their affection. I want that. Drinking
more of my water, I look away.
“I figured I’ll head to the gym and then go see Noah.” Shrugging, I
add, “Do you guys want to come with me? Or do you need to pack?”
“We’ve already packed,” Carter answers. “I guess we can hit up
the gym and then Brewz on the way back home. Let me change my
clothes and then we can head out.”
Carter stands up and leaves, while West watches him the whole
way, similar to what I had just done with Noah. When he finally
looks back at me, I snort.
“Someone is dick whipped.”
West groans. “Fuck, dude, I know. I’m not even subtle about it.
But have you seen my boyfriend? He’s hot.”
Laughing, I simply nod my head. Carter is a good-looking guy—a
tall blonde with blue eyes—but he's not my type at all. I tend to go
for the small guys with bratty and sassy attitudes. I've known West
and Carter for years. We went to high school together, where we
played on the same baseball team. We usually go to the gym
together a few times a week, so once we’re all dressed and ready,
we head out to get our sweat on.

Grasping the handle, I pull open the door to Brewz and gesture for
Carter and West to go in ahead of me. It’s pretty busy and there’s a
line almost to the back door. The scent of coffee beans fills the air,
and I breathe in deeply. Moving my head, I look around the space
trying to spot Noah, and find him behind the counter next to Trish.
He looks like he’s having a great time, laughing and mixing some
drinks, while Trish is working the cash register.
We make it to the front of the line where Carter and West order
plain coffee and tea—boring—and I end up ordering their monthly
special, which is a mint chocolate mocha iced coffee. Apparently, I’m
the first person who’s ordered it today, so we get to watch as Trish
teaches Noah how to make it. She starts walking him through each
of the steps one by one, both of them concentrating on getting the
drink made right. Realizing it might take a while, we step over to an
empty table on the side, while someone else starts to ring up the
people behind us. West and Carter are talking among themselves as
I’m scanning the shop taking everything in. I always love coming
here, not only because they have great drinks, but because it has
such a relaxing atmosphere. There are small tables throughout the
room, big comfy chairs in the corner, as well as several plants in the
space. Sunlight streams into the entire room from the wall-length
windows along one side, encasing the shop in a soft glow.
I’m scanning my way back to the front of the store when Noah
walks over and hands us our cups and waits patiently. Assuming he
wants to know how his drinks taste, I take a quick sip and am blown
away. Moaning, I take another gulp, tasting the chocolate and the
mint, but the mint is not overtaking everything. It has a subtle
coolness that hits the back of my tongue. I hum around the straw as
I suck some more into my mouth.
“Damn, that’s good.” I wink.
Noah smiles softly, his eyes quickly darting away from me, and his
cheeks turn a rosy pink.
“Holy shit dude, this is good,” West cuts in.
“Thanks guys. I still have so much to learn, but I’m glad to be out
of the house doing something different. There’s so many damn
drinks though, it’s going to take me a while to be able to learn them
all.” He chuckles.
“Well, you’re off to a great start. I can’t wait to try some more
drinks when we come back in a few weeks. Ronan is going to go
crazy when he finds out you can make these insane drinks. He's
more obsessed with coffee than this one here.” Carter jerks his
thumb in my direction, and I nod my head, agreeing. I like coffee,
but nothing like the addiction that Ronan has.
“He’s already texted me, wishing me good luck and to make sure I
learn how to make his caramel coffee for when he comes back.” He
laughs, then knocks his knuckles on the table. “Thanks again guys,
I’m glad you like it, but I should probably head back to work. First
day and all.”
Noah walks back to the front counter and starts taking orders
again, while we make our way out of the shop into the bright
sunlight. I take another sip of my iced coffee and love how
refreshing it is. West and Carter let me know that they’re going to
head home and get ready to leave. As we part ways at the
crosswalk, I continue heading down the road with no destination in
mind.
With most of my roommates gone and Noah working at Brewz, I’m
worried about what I’m going to do to keep busy this summer.
Maybe I need to find a new hobby, something outside of school and
the gym. I’m passing by the grocery store when an idea hits me.
Snatching my phone from my back pocket, I pull up Google, looking
up a quick dinner recipe I can make. Since it’s Noah's first day of
work, I’ll do something special and make him dinner. A huge smile
crosses my face as I think about him putting his hands on his hips
and declaring that he can make his own dinner. Shaking my head, I
start my way inside, trying to find all the different things I’ll need for
tonight. He might completely blow me off, or maybe I’ll get lucky
and be able to spend the evening with him. A guy can hope.
 Chapter Two

Noah

I t’sI love
been about a month since I started working at Brewz and while
the place, I already know I'm going to have to start looking
for something else once school starts. Not only will I not be able to
work during the day, but the pay isn’t as good as what I’m needing.
But I honestly love working there, learning to make different types
of drinks, and I’ve made some new friends as well. It’s been good to
get out of the house and have a break from all things school.
I’m walking into the house after another day at work, when the
smell of garlic and onions permeates the air. I inhale deeply and
smile as I take off my shoes and set them by the door, right next to
Asher’s. I never used to take my shoes off at home, but once I
moved in with the guys, Ronan was on our case about it, until
eventually, it became muscle memory to all of us. He even bought a
special shoe shelf that sits next to the door, so we won’t forget.
Slowly, I make my way down the hall to the kitchen and peek
around the corner where I’m out of sight. Asher is gliding around the
kitchen stirring different pots, with different foods spread around
him, and dancing to some music he has playing through a speaker. I
put my hand over my mouth to stifle a giggle. Asher is 100% my
type. He’s muscular and tall—way taller than me—about six foot four,
to my five-foot five. He has short brown hair he usually has covered
in a backward cap and a scruffy beard I want to feel rub against my
cheeks. And he has these sexy tattoos covering one of his bulky
arms that turns me on every time I see them. He could break me in
half, and I would welcome it with open arms.
Closing my eyes, I sigh.
Sadly, he sees me as some little kid who needs to be taken care of,
and I hate it. No matter what I do, he always acts like an older
brother, and it grates on my nerves. Always checking in on me,
trying to force my decisions when he doesn’t agree with it, trying to
make sure I’m eating and sleeping. If he didn’t treat me like such a
kid, I would probably love it. Actually, I know I would love it, being
taken care of. But I want someone to take care of me romantically,
not platonically.
I walk into the kitchen and sit on the stool at the counter, admiring
the view, before he notices I’m there. Sitting there, it only takes ten
seconds before Asher is facing me with a grin overtaking his face.
“Hey, how was work?” He asks before turning back to the stove.
“It was good. Today was busy as hell, so I’m dead on my feet. The
food smells amazing, by the way. What are you making this time?” I
ask while trying to peer over his shoulder to see what’s in the pans.
Asher was never much of a cook before, but lately, he’s been
trying his hand at making new types of meals. As soon as summer
started, he decided he was eager to learn to cook, and he’s been
trying new recipes a couple of times a week. He’s surprisingly an
incredible cook, and I love being his guinea pig when he decides to
try something new. On days like today, when I’m ready to take a
quick shower and crash in my bed, I appreciate his cooking even
more. I also love that it’s a time for us to hang out without bickering
with one another.
“We’re having this Cajun skillet chicken I found on Pinterest. I’ve
never had it before, but the picture looked delicious, so I wanted to
try it.” He grabs his phone off the counter and shows me said
picture. My mouth waters, and my stomach rumbles instantly. He’s
right, it looks spectacular, and I can’t wait to try it.
 “Can I just say I love how much you’ve been cooking lately? My
favorite so far is the steak you made with garlic butter. I still
remember how it melted in my mouth. But this one smells heavenly,
so I can’t wait to try it. Plus, all the food you’ve been making beats
the hell out of ordering something out or eating ramen noodles.” I
shudder. Even though I despise them, I’ve grown accustomed to
eating ramen noodles because of how cheap they are.
“I’ve been enjoying it. It started as more of a whim, but finding
recipes and creating different flavors has been a new experience.
And I’m grateful you’re so open to trying new things.” Asher walks
over to the fridge and grabs a couple of things before making his
way back over to the counter. He sets down a bowl of grapes and
some water, so I pop a couple of grapes into my mouth before
opening up the bottle and taking a swig.
“It won’t be ready for another fifteen minutes if you want to go
take a shower and change into something more comfortable,” Asher
says as he grabs a grape and bites it.
Looking down at my black jeans and polo shirt I nod, agreeing I
would feel more comfortable getting out of these clothes and no
longer smelling like coffee beans. I make my way to my bedroom
and undress, tossing my clothes into the laundry basket before
making my way to the bathroom. When I first moved into the house,
the other guys offered me the master bedroom downstairs with its
own bathroom. Even though I kept trying to decline it, they wouldn’t
budge, so I caved. I’m thankful they gave me this space, even
though I would have been fine with a room upstairs. I accepted it
that one time because I knew they saw me as the baby, but just this
once I’ll take it.
Reaching into the shower, I twist the knob to turn on the hot
water, then walk over to the mirror to look at myself. I used to
always hate being on the smaller side. Short in height, thin and wiry
with barely any muscles. Back in high school, I was made fun of
almost daily. If I wasn’t being picked on for my size, I was being
picked on for being gay. It took me a long time and watching a lot of
porn before I realized that many men would be attracted to my small
size. I run my hand through my curls, once again debating whether
or not I should keep them. Occasionally, I wonder if they make me
look too much like a kid and think about if I would look older without
them. Huffing, I shake my head and drop my hand. I don’t need to
decide this right now.
Stepping into the shower, I let the water cascade down my body.
There’s no better way to get rid of the day’s grime than to use
scalding hot water and cucumber melon soap. Reaching over, I grab
my shampoo off the ledge and massage a dime sized amount into
my hair. I make sure to gently massage my scalp before rinsing off
all the suds under the spray. Grabbing the conditioner next, I make
sure to only apply it to my ends. I read somewhere you weren’t
supposed to put conditioner on your scalp. Who knows whether it’s
true or not, but my curls have been bouncier and brighter than ever
since I started doing this.
After rinsing my hair, I grab the body wash and start lathering it
all. I work the soap around my chest and then make my way lower.
When I reach for my dick, I can’t stop myself from giving it a pull. I
moan softly and do it again. My mind drifts to Asher in the kitchen
making dinner for us, and my cock jerks, thinking of him doing
something so nice for me. I picture the way he moves around the
kitchen so easily, which quickly turns into the way he looks shirtless
and the way he runs his hands through his hair and then flips his
cap back onto his head. Tossing my head back, I groan and work my
dick faster. Images of Asher flash through my mind at record speed.
The way he smiles softly or chuckles when he finds something funny.
The way his eyes gleam when he’s excited about trying a new
recipe. I feel my balls tighten, and I know I’m close. Closing my
hand around my shaft tighter, I imagine Asher kneeling in front of
me, staring up at me with his whiskey brown eyes. A shiver runs
down my spine and I unleash all over the floor, my cum swirling
down the drain. Bending over, I heave a lungful of air into my chest
before quickly rinsing, then turning off the water and stepping out of
the shower.
I can’t believe I just jerked off to Asher.
Again.
 He is starring in all my fantasies lately. He can’t do anything
without turning me on. Using the towel, I dry myself off, then walk
to my dresser and grab a pair of briefs and sweatpants. I slide them
on quickly and run my towel through my hair to dry it. Grabbing a
shirt out of my dresser, I wrangle with the thought of whether or not
to put it on before deciding to leave it off. Maybe I’ll get lucky, and
Asher will ogle my body.
I snort.
Yeah, right.
Walking back to the kitchen, I stop short, inhaling the aromas
once again. The house never smells this good when all the guys are
home. Hopefully, Asher keeps up with his cooking once everyone is
back. The guys would love this just as much as I do. When I reach
the counter, Asher is already sitting on a stool with two plates in
front of him.
“About time you joined me.”
I roll my eyes and slide onto the stool next to him. “Were you or
were you not the one who told me to go and take a shower?”
“I did. But I also didn’t think you would be gone for almost half an
hour.”
Thinking about why I took so long in the shower, my face heats
up. Not wanting to draw attention to my red cheeks, I flip my hand
around in the air. “I like taking long showers. Sue me.”
I grab my fork and knife and cut off a small piece of chicken
before sliding the fork into my mouth.
Holy shit.
“This chicken is fucking amazing, Asher. There’s so many different
flavors exploding on my tongue.” I swirl some pasta onto my fork
and pop it into my mouth before moaning. “Seriously, this is so
good. Please make sure you make this again.” Turning, I look at
Asher, who’s staring at me before he gently clears his throat and
speaks.
“I’m shocked at how well this came out. I was worried it wouldn’t
be good.”
“It’s better than good. It’s an orgasm in my mouth.”
 He chuckles, and I realize what I just said. I look away quickly and
feel my cheeks heat, then decide, fuck it. I meant what I said.
“Do you think you’ll keep cooking once the school year starts up
again?” I ask, putting some more food into my mouth.
“I don’t know. I would love to cook here and there, but I know my
schedule is going to be extremely busy with it being my last year.”
“True. True. Well, if I have any say, I think you should make dinner
at least a couple times a week.”
“I don’t know if I could do it a couple times a week. How about
once a week?”
I pretend to think about it, tapping my finger against my chin
lightly. “Ugh fine. Deal. Shake on it?”
I reach my hand out toward his, and he laughs before sliding his
hand into mine. He shakes it and smiles at me softly. Licking my lips,
I watch as he stares at my mouth then nods toward my plate.
“Keep eating.”
“Yes, Dad.” I roll my eyes dramatically, and he huffs out another
laugh.
I’m not sure what’s going on, but it seems like something is
changing between us. The more time we spend together, the more I
notice him looking at me differently. Or at least, it seems like he’s
looking at me differently. The way I catch him staring at my lips, or
the way he stares and quickly looks away when I catch him.
Hopefully, it’s not just wishful thinking. Maybe he’s starting to see
me as more than just a kid.
We end up eating the rest of dinner in silence, apart from my
occasional moaning. I can’t help it, though; the food just tastes so
delicious. There’s chicken on top of pasta, and he even baked some
garlic bread that I’ve been using to soak up the sauce. Asher finishes
his meal first and leans back in his seat, just watching until I finish.
“You want more?” he asks, eyeing my plate.
“No, thanks. I’m good.” Patting my stomach, I watch as he goes to
stand up, and I quickly reach out to stop him. “Nope, I got it.”
Grabbing his plate, I stack it on top of mine before taking them to
the sink. Since the first time he made us dinner, I told him that each
time he cooked for us, I would wash all the dishes. It’s the least I
can do since he’s making sure we eat something delicious. Turning
on the water, I drizzle some soap onto the sponge before using it to
wash the plate. Asher stands up and turns facing me.
“I’m not ready for bed yet. Do you want to go into the living room
and play some video games?”
“Yeah. We can do that. Let me finish washing the dishes and I’ll
meet you there.”
“Here, let me help you. It’ll go quicker.”
I cross my arms over my chest, getting water and soap all over my
body while I glare at him.
“I can do it. I don’t need your help,” I scoff.
“I didn’t say you needed my help. I offered to help. There’s a
difference.” He crosses his arms over his chest, mimicking me.
Rolling my eyes, I stand up taller. “Okay, but I don’t need the help.
Just wait for me in the living room. I’m a big boy.”
Asher puts his hands up in surrender and slowly backs up. I can’t
stop myself from smiling. He always brings out the brat in me and I
can’t control it.
“Fine. I’ll set up the game and see you when you’re done.”
“Good.”
Reaching back down into the sink, I finish washing the dishes, the
smile never leaving my face.
 Chapter Three

Asher

I ’m sitting listening to the banging of dishes in the sink, a content

grin on my face. Sighing, I lean against the back of the couch,
resting my arm on the armrest. I knew he wasn’t going to let me help
him. Of course not. As soon as the words left my mouth, I could see
the defiance take over. Such a damn brat.
The clatter in the kitchen continues for a few more minutes before
Noah walks into the living room, two cans of soda in his hand. He
tosses one at me before he goes and sits next to the TV looking
through the different Nintendo Switch games.
“What are you in the mood for?” he asks as he looks at me, then
quickly turns back to the games.
“Anything that doesn’t end in you kicking my ass.”
“So… no options, then.” He chuckles. And okay, he’s probably right.
I don’t know how someone could be so lucky at video games. The first
time I thought it was a fluke, but nope. He kicks my ass every time.
“Just put on the racing one. At least I have a chance of winning.”
“Yeah, sure you do.” He smirks and winks at me, and I swear I melt.
No one has ever been able to affect me as much as Noah does. Even
when he’s not trying, and he’s sassing me, it turns me on.
 He sets up the game, then walks over and sits next to me, handing
me a controller. Our fingers touch and goosebumps erupt on my skin.
Shivering, I eye him and sink further into the couch, getting ready to
play.
We play the game for a while before I surrender, only having won
one time. I’m not a fan of video games, but I know Noah loves them,
so I tend to play with him a lot. I’m also the only one who doesn’t get
butt hurt when I constantly lose. I toss the controller onto the coffee
table with a bang and cross my arms over my chest.
“I give up,” I huff.
“What a big baby,” he taunts while grabbing a blanket off the side of
the couch and placing it over his body.
“I just know when it’s not my night.” I shrug, grabbing the other end
of the blanket and draping it on my legs. “How was work today?”
Noah has been working at Brewz for a few weeks now. I’ve made it
my personal mission to make sure he has a home-cooked meal to
come home to on the days he’s working. It originally started as
wanting to make sure he was fed, but I’ve grown to love it. Finding
new recipes and trying new things. I’m surprised by how much I enjoy
cooking; it relaxes me.
“It was fine. I got a lead on a new job.”
“Why do you need a new job? What’s wrong with the coffee shop?”
“I love it. But classes start up in a month and I won’t be able to
work as much if I stay there. Josh, another worker at Brewz, heard
about this gay gentleman's club I can work at even though I’m
underage. Well, not underage, but under the drinking age.”
Bolting upright, I gape at him. I can feel my body temperature rising
and there’s a ringing in my ears that starts suddenly.
“Gentleman’s club? Like a strip club? You want to be a stripper?
What the fuck, Noah?”
“No, you oaf. I don’t want to be a stripper. I can be a waiter. All I
have to do is take orders and bring people what they want. While
other people are stripping. Or dancing. Whatever.”
“Who told you about this again?” I’ll kill them. There’s no way Noah
is going to go work at a gentlemen's club. I don’t care how badly he
needs the money.
 “Josh. He’s another worker at the coffee shop. He has an interview
there, and he said he’ll let me know if it’s worth it and if it is, then he’ll
try to get me a job.”
I scoff and stand up, crossing my arms over my chest. Then I shake
out my arms, feeling prickly, before crossing them again. The ringing
in my ears starts to get worse, and I close my eyes, trying to breathe
in deeply.
“You aren’t working there. There’s no reason for you to go work at a
place like that.”
He stands up and puffs out his chest, and I would laugh if I didn’t
see the anger brimming in his eyes. He’s so much smaller than me—
he's not at all intimidating—but the fire in his eyes tells me that I’m
walking a very thin line.
He jabs his finger into my chest and hisses, “You don’t get to tell me
what to do. I am an adult. I can make my own damn decisions.” He
jabs his finger again, as if trying to drive home what he’s saying. He
moves his finger away, and I rub at my chest in circles. Shit, that
actually kind of hurt.
“It’s a stupid decision, and you know it. There are so many other
jobs out there. Why would you want one where men are going to paw
and touch you?”
“I won’t let anyone touch me. Not unwillingly anyway.” He shrugs.
He fucking shrugs like men touching him will be something he’ll allow.
Over my dead body.
“No, Noah. You shouldn’t be working in that place. You’re too
young.”
Oh, shit. That was undoubtedly the wrong thing to say. Noah’s face
turns a bright red, and his jaw works back and forth. I see him
clenching and unclenching his fists and I swear I can hear the grinding
of his molars and I wince, knowing I just set him off.
“Fuck you, Asher Davenport. I am not a fucking kid. I am a man. A
man who can make his own fucking decisions. If I fucking want to
work at a strip club and have men ogle me and pant over me, then
that’s what I’m going to do. You have no fucking say in what I do.”
By the time he’s done, he has white spit in the corners of his lips.
Like an animal that foams at the mouth when they get angry.
 “I am not some kid you need to worry about. I know what I'm
doing.”
“I'm not worried about you. Well, of course I am. But I’m also
concerned about the other men in those places. You don’t know what
they can be like. They’ll see you and think they’re free to touch you.
Some of those men are vile and disgusting.”
“Maybe I don’t know what they’re like. But I can figure it out on my
own. And I will. Thanks for your support. Or whatever.”
He flips his hand around and stomps away before I have a chance
to say anything. By the time my mouth catches up with my brain, his
bedroom door slams and I jump, taken aback by his anger. Sitting
down on the couch, I put my head in my hands, sighing softly. I
always do this when it comes to Noah. But I don’t know any other
way. All I want to do is keep him in a little bubble and shelter him
from the world. Never let anything hurt him. But I can’t do that. He’s
right. I have no say in what he does.
Even when I don’t agree with it.

I wake up the next morning feeling like a complete ass. I shouldn’t

have told Noah he was too young to work at that place. And while I
might not agree with it, I had no right to tell him what to do. Sighing
softly, I roll onto my back and look up at the ceiling. Fuck, I should
probably apologize. I should, but I won’t. While I know it’s his
decision, it doesn’t mean I have to give in easily.
I think back to last night and the way Noah’s eyes turned dark, and
his skin turned red. The way it looked like he had to refrain from
hitting me. I’ve made him mad plenty of times, but it was never that
bad. The way he stood up for himself was sexy as fuck, and it only
made me want him more. Thinking back on it now makes me feel like
shit again. I blow out a breath and close my eyes. I’m contemplating
all the life choices I’ve made that led to laying in my bed stressing out
over Noah, when I feel my phone vibrate on the bed next to me. I
debate ignoring it. My chest tightens, thinking that maybe it’s Noah. I
grab it and unlock the screen, a frown taking over my face when I
read the text.
Ronan: What the fuck, dude? What did you say to Noah? I just
got off the phone with him, where he went on a tangent for five
minutes about you being an “ass-face.”
I snicker and scrub my hand over my face. Noah is the only one
who would be able to call me an ass-face and get away with it.
Me: I didn’t do anything…
Ronan: Yeah, well, my bleeding ears tell me that’s a damn lie.
I’m debating not texting back at all when another text is sent.
Ronan: You can’t baby him forever, Asher.
Sensing his scolding through the text, I roll my eyes, even though I
know he can’t see me.
Me: FUCK! I know that. But what I think and what I say are
two entirely different things
Ronan: You have got to get a handle on it before you push him
away for good.
Me: Do you even know why I’m supposedly an ass-face
Ronan: Something about him wanting to get a new job and you
going off on him.
Me: Not just some new job. A job at a strip club
Ronan: <shock emoji>
Ronan: What the hell???
Me: I'm an ass-face because I told him he’s too young. Yes, i
was wrong, but I still don’t believe that’s a place for Noah
Ronan: You don’t have a say, though. <shrug emoji> All you can
do is support him in his decisions. Don’t push him away because
you can’t get your head out of your ass. Fix it.
Me: Fine. I’ll talk to him
Ronan: <blowing kissy face emoji>
I toss my phone to the side and groan. Why is it that I always seem
to stick my foot in my mouth when it comes to Noah? No matter what
I do, I always seem to go one step forward and a million steps back.
 Chapter Four

Noah

I ’m walking to the coffee shop with an extra skip in my step. The

sun is shining bright, and I turn my face up to feel it heat my skin.
There’s a gentle breeze that blows my curls and I smile. Living in
California is like living in a dream. Growing up in Oklahoma where
it’s always hot during the summer was not fun. The temperature
would easily reach over 100℉ and I would constantly be sweating,
my clothes easily sticking to my body. I’m still not used to it being in
the seventies, where the cooling breeze carries the smell of salt
thanks to the proximity of the ocean.
When I was a sophomore in high school, my counselor, Mrs.
Taylor, told me about a program that would allow me to get my high
school diploma and work on my associate degree from college at the
same time. I was able to earn both—my diploma and associates
degree—as well as obtain a scholarship to BU. That means that
while I'm about two years younger than everyone else in my class,
we're all in the same year in college. People get confused by it
sometimes, so I'm always having to explain why I'm younger but still
in the same graduating year as them. But it's worth it. Mrs. Taylor
gave me a lifeline when I really needed one, and I will always be
thankful for her. I think she knew I needed a way out of my little
town, and I worked my ass off to get here.
Reaching out, I grab the door to the shop and pull it open,
inhaling the aroma of coffee beans. There’s chatter from people
talking and a whirring noise from the espresso machine, and my grin
brightens, knowing today will be a good day.
I make my way to the back and am clocking in on the iPad when
Josh sidles up beside me, a beaming smile overtaking his face.
“Guess what yesterday was?”
I pretend to think about what he could be so excited about.
Slowly, I tap my finger against my chin a few times, purposely trying
to waste time.
“Oh, my god.” He playfully pushes me. “Don’t even pretend like
you don’t know. I know you were as anxious as I was to find out
more about that place.”
He’s right. As soon as he brought up Juicy Peaches, I was
immediately intrigued. I’ve never been inside a strip club before, and
I love the idea of making money without having to be one of the
men on stage taking off their clothes. Watching men take their
clothes off sounds sexy as hell, but my virgin self does not need to
be one of them. I’ll be completely content just passing out drinks
while staying clothed.
“So, how was it? Did you see a lot of ass? Did you make a lot of
money?” I’m so giddy waiting for his answers.
“It was amazing, Noah. It was a weekday, so it wasn’t too busy,
but I made enough in tips that I could only work a couple of days
and make as much as I’m making here.”
“That’s awesome. Do you think you’re going to stop working at
Brewz?”
He nods his head vigorously. “For sure. It’ll work better with my
schedule, and I can make more money there. I heard the good tips
are for the ones who are on stage, though. It didn’t look too hard.
Maybe one day I’ll try that.”
“You wanna try stripping?” I ask, shocked.
“I don’t know. Possibly.” He shrugs. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.
The owner is really nice and sweet too. His name is Caleb. He didn’t
seem like a strip club owner. He actually seemed kinda nerdy. Oh,
but side note, don’t call it a strip club to his face when you interview
with him, he gets upset. He likes it to be called a gentleman’s club.”
“Good to know. Wait. When I interview with him? Oh my god, did
you get me an interview?” I squeal and jump, then throw my arms
around his neck.
“I did. It’s tomorrow.” He squeezes me back and then lets go. “You
are going to rock the shit out of that interview. I know it.”
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” I kiss his cheek before
bouncing off to get ready for work.

Josh was right. Caleb is nerdy, but definitely attractive. He’s wearing
a sweater vest, for fuck's sake, but somehow, he pulls it off. He’s
been very sweet and welcoming, and I hope I get this job. The
interview is going great, and I'm answering every question he’s
thrown at me. He’s in the middle of another question when the door
to his office squeaks open and a blue-haired man walks in. I look
him up and down, then grin when he flashes me a sweet smile.
“Sorry Caleb. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I didn’t know you were
busy.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Gesturing to me, he smiles. “This is Noah.
He's interviewing for one of the waiter jobs. Noah, this is Deco. He’s
one of the dancers at Peaches.” I send Deco—what kind of name is
that—a wave before dropping my hand back to my lap. “Did you
need something, Deco?”
“Shit, no. Sorry. I was just stopping in before I go get ready. But
I’ll catch you another time when you aren’t busy.”
He leaves as quickly as he appeared, and then the door squeaks
open again.
“It was nice to meet you, Noah,” he says before he disappears
outside the door again.
 “Sorry about that. I have no further questions for you. If you are
interested, I would love to give you a tour of the place.”
I nod my head. We get up, making our way out of the office and
into the club area. There’s a bar along one wall filled with tons of
different liquor bottles with different colored lights shining on them.
Directly across from the bar are booths, tables, and chairs, all in
front of a giant stage. In the middle, there’s one lone pole reaching
up to the ceiling. My heart beats fast, thinking of what happens
there.
“It doesn’t seem like much right now because it’s empty, but I
promise it gets better.” Caleb laughs and I chuckle alongside him. I
turn in a circle, admiring the place when Caleb clears his throat. “Are
you interested?”
“Are you hiring me?” Please say yes, I would love to work at a
place like this.
“Uh. Yes. That’s why I asked if you’re interested.” He shakes his
head, but he has a small smile on his face.
“I would love to.” I squeal, then lower my voice and try to appear
calm. “Thank you.”
“Awesome. Can you start tomorrow night?”
“You got it.” He lets me know that I need to come in early
tomorrow to fill out paperwork and get my uniform. We shake on it,
and I head out to make my way home. I can feel the excitement
coursing through my veins. I’m in such a good mood until Asher’s
face pops in my mind and I freeze. Telling Asher is not going to be
easy.

As gracefully as I can, I walk past a group of rowdy men when

there's another catcall, and I have to stop myself from rolling my
eyes. Taking my empty tray, I set it on the bar before I blow out a
breath and close my eyes, taking a second to gather myself. I tell
the bartender the order, and then I look down at my body. I grunt,
pulling at my shorts, trying to find some space in them. I do a little
jiggle trying to get some air in there, but it’s no use. They are the
tightest little black shorts I’ve ever worn. I’m pretty sure you can see
the outline of my dick. I look down and yep. Full access to my dick.
These aren’t something I would usually wear, but I have to follow
the dress code which requires the littlest of shorts, since that usually
gets the biggest tips.
Tonight has been pretty laid back. It’s a weeknight, so it’s not as
busy, and I’m glad to be dipping my toes in now and not during the
rush on the weekend. The bartender puts the drinks on the counter,
so I move them to my tray. I carefully balance the tray on one hand,
and I use the other to grip it. I don’t want to drop a bunch of drinks
on my first night. Dropping the drinks off at a table, I get the sense
that there are eyes on me. I look around and don’t immediately see
anyone watching me, however as I start to walk to the next table, I
look to the right and lock eyes with Asher.
Of fucking course.
Of course, he would be here. While he tried to pretend he was
happy for me, I know he wasn’t because he kept making snide
remarks about how bad it would be. The nerve of that ass-face. He
doesn’t get to keep telling me what a bad idea he thinks it is and
then just show up. I stomp over to him and drop my tray onto the
table in front of him.
“What are you doing here?” I growl, leaning down close to his ear
to make sure he can hear me over the music.
“I came to enjoy the view.” He gestures to the stage. I look over
and see this furry bear of a man on the stage in the smallest lace
thong. Doing a double take, I look at the man again. I wonder if
that’s Asher’s type. I’ve never actually seen him with anyone, so I
wouldn’t know what his type is. But if he’s attracted to that bear,
then his type is definitely not me. And I’ve never worn a thong
before. The closest I’ve gotten are the shorts currently cutting off
the circulation to my dick. Turning back to face him, I glare at him
until he makes eye contact with me.
“Don’t bullshit me, Asher. I know you’re not here for the view.”
 “Oh, but I am.”
He licks his lips and looks me up and down. My body heats and
trembles. Is he checking me out? There’s no damn way. I put my
hand on my hip and lean forward, putting my finger into his face.
“You can go now. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I’m not here to be a babysitter. I just wanted to support you on
your first day. If you remember, I did the same thing when you
started at Brewz.”
I roll my eyes. Okay, whatever. That’s true, but still.
“I know you don’t support me working here. You can go,” I tell
him, while making a shooing motion with my hand. He just huffs and
laughs.
“I’m not leaving, Noah. I’m staying until you’re done, and then I’ll
take you home.”
I go to say something about not being a kid when he cuts me off.
“Not because you're young, but because you shouldn’t be leaving
this place at night alone.”
I want to roll my eyes again, or sass him, but I can’t. He’s right, I’ll
be safer if he waits for me to leave.
“Fine. You can stay, but don’t get in my way.”
He puts his hands up in surrender and I smile. Grabbing the tray
off the table, I turn around and walk back toward the bar. I make
sure to swing my hips with more force than I usually would, knowing
my ass looks good with a bit hanging out the bottom. Before I reach
the bar, I look back and catch Asher staring at said ass. Hmm.
Maybe he doesn’t see me as a kid after all. I can work with that.
 Chapter Five

Asher

I ’mOrin hell.
fucking heaven.

Fuck, I don’t even know at this point.

Noah in those damn shorts should be illegal. His ass is calling out
to me. Drawing me in. My mouth is salivating, and I’m sure if I were
to wipe it, I would find drool. The way he’s swaying his hips, it’s
catching the attention of every man in this place.
Fuck.
I want to bite into that fucking perfect perky ass. His head whips
around and when I make eye contact with him, he’s smirking.
Busted.
I look away quickly and take in the scene of the club. It’s actually
not as bad as I expected. I thought it would be some run-down
seedy place with creepy men all over. It turns out to be a pretty nice
club. There’s dim lighting throughout the room with the exception of
the stage which has a bright light shining on it. The bar behind me
has a gold-looking countertop, with black barstools all around. The
rest of the furniture is black and sleek, and none of the guys seem
too seedy. The blue-haired guy on stage is fucking fantastic. He's
upside-down on the pole with his legs spread. Cocking my head, I
stare at him in awe, his legs in a perfect split. I didn’t even know
someone could do that upside down. I look back around the club
and see that Noah is back to work, dropping off drinks for men.
He reaches a table full of men who seem to be around our age.
They are the rowdiest ones in the room. One of them touches his
arm and I see Noah stiffen. Even I know you shouldn’t be touching
any of the fucking workers. I’m watching the interaction, getting
more heated by the second. Noah moves slightly to the side and
that same prick reaches for him again, this time running his finger
down his chest. Before I know it, I’m standing up, about to make my
way over there. Noah looks up quickly, locking his eyes on mine. He
shakes his head slightly as he grabs the guy’s hand and twists,
pushing it on the table. He leans down and says something that I
can’t hear, and all the other men at the table burst out laughing,
while Noah picks up his tray and takes off for the bar.
It’s not even twenty minutes later before another man is trying to
get handsy with Noah. A headache is forming and I rub my temples.
I try to regulate my breathing by counting back from ten and taking
deep breaths, but it’s not working. I want to smash those guys in
their faces. But I know Noah would never forgive me if I try to get in
between him and them. Besides, he’s doing a damn good job of
taking care of himself. I don’t know what he’s telling them, but he’s
not putting up with their shit, and they all seem to back down
quickly.
Hearing a round of applause and clapping, I look to the stage to
see who’s coming up next. A man with long blond hair wearing a
trench coat walks on the stage and the lights flash different colors.
I’m blown away by the different types of men I’ve seen on the
stage. This place would be cool if it wasn’t for Noah working here. I
still can’t get over that.
Deciding to stay at my table, I rotate between watching the men
on stage and keeping my eye on Noah. The time goes by quickly,
and before I know it, Noah is off work. When we walk in the door to
our shared house, I’m tempted to go upstairs and go to bed, but
Noah turns around and asks if I want to hang out in the living room.
I can’t say no. Which is how I find myself sitting on the couch trying
not to stare at him.
He’s still wearing those damn little shorts, but he’s covered them in
a gray hoodie that goes halfway to his knees. He looks so innocent
and indecent, and I love it. He’s gotten up a couple times to get a
drink or go to the bathroom and each time he leaves the couch, my
eyes automatically find his covered ass, trying to picture what’s
underneath the shorts.
I’ve always found him sexy, but watching him take care of himself
tonight had me in a constant state of hardness. When he walks back
into the living room, he whips the hoodie up and over his head. He’s
left standing in front of me in just those shorts and nothing else.
My dick is throbbing and straining against my jeans. I move and
push down on my cock to relieve some pressure, but it’s no use. He
walks over to the entertainment center below the TV, and when he
bends down, I stifle a groan. Fuck me. That ass. He turns around,
and my breath stops short. His curls are wild and out of control, and
his lithe body is on display. He puts his hands on his hips and a
ghost of a smile flashes across his face. He knows what he’s doing to
me. He knows, and he’s doing it on purpose.
“How did you like Juicy Peaches?” he asks as he makes his way
over to the couch, sitting down.
“It was cool.” I look over at him to see he’s staring at me while
dragging his finger up and down his thigh. God, his thighs are so
fucking small. I could wrap my hands around them, and my hands
would touch. That shouldn’t turn me on, but it does. The thought
that he’s so much smaller than me arouses me so much.
“Just cool? I couldn’t believe how awesome it was. The dancers,
the other workers, hell, even the customers were pretty nice, too.”
I scoff. “Pretty nice. Yeah, fucking right.”
“Were we not seeing the same men there tonight?”
“Obviously. But what about the men who were putting their hands
on you and touching you?”
“What about them?” He shrugs. He fucking shrugs like it’s no big
deal.
 “What the fuck? The fact that they were touching you, and you
didn’t want them to.”
“When did I say I didn’t want them to?”
Is he fucking around with me? He can’t be serious. My body
stiffens and I know I’m on the cusp of blowing up.
“No one should be touching you,” I say through clenched teeth.
“And why is that?” He sits up and puts his legs under his ass and
rests his head on his fist.
“Well, first of all because you work there. Everyone knows you
aren’t supposed to be touching the workers.”
“That’s for strippers.”
“No.” I sort of shout at him. Pausing to gather my thoughts, I
lower my voice and then finish, “That’s for all workers, not just the
dancers.” I can’t believe he’s okay with strange men touching him.
“God, Asher. You sound like an imbecile. Maybe it has nothing to
do with me being a worker, but everything to do with me being a
man who likes to know when other men find him attractive. If they
are wanting to touch me, then they must like what they see.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Fucking ‘oh’ Asher.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes. He always has to call me Asher
when he’s trying to get his point across. It makes me feel as though
I'm being scolded.
“Well, you don’t need to worry about that.”
“And why not?”
“Because... because...”
“Because why Asher?”
“Those aren’t the type of men you should be with.” I gesture with
my hands wildly, as if it will get my point across.
“And what men should I be with?”
I want to shout that it’s me, that he should be with me. But I
can’t.
“Just... not men like that.” My palms are sweating, and I wipe
them on my jeans, giving myself a few seconds to get myself
together. This conversation came out of left field, and I don’t know
where it’s heading. I’m trying not to say the wrong thing, but Noah
is looking at me like I already fucked up.
“Then like what, Asher?” He stares at me, unmoving.
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe someone like you?” he says, so quietly I barely hear him.
But I did. I heard exactly what he said. I swear my heart stops
beating in my chest. My body is still, and I can’t move. Nothing is
coming out of my mouth, either. I’m completely frozen. I shakily put
my hand out and Noah grabs onto it with a death grip. I give him a
gentle tug and pull him into my lap. He straddles me while I put my
arms around his tiny waist.
“Someone like me?”
“Yeah.”
He leans down and places a gentle kiss on my lips. I grip his waist
tighter, drawing him closer to me. I lick at the seam, and he opens
his lips for me. Slowly, I slide my tongue inside and we both groan.
His arms wrap around my neck, and I lift my hands to run my
fingers through his curls. God, I’ve always wanted to feel him this
way. To feel the softness of his curls in my fingers. Have his lithe,
gorgeous body on top of mine. I rub my thumb against his nipple,
feeling the nub, and he moans loudly. A shiver runs through his
body, and I smile. I did that.
He grinds down on me, and I can feel his dick through those mini
shorts. I pull away from the kiss and look down, seeing his cock
straining those pants. The tip is peaking up from the top, and I lick
my lips. Noah looks down and giggles before capturing my mouth
with his again. Holy shit, I’m kissing Noah.
Oh my god.
I’m kissing Noah.
I pull away quickly and then pick Noah up before dropping him on
the couch.
“What the fuck?”
“I’m so sorry,” I say before I run out of the room.
It feels like I don’t release a breath until I’m in my room with the
door closed. I sit on my bed and hang my head, breathing in deeply.
Fuck. I can't believe I actually kissed him. Fuck. Fuck. No, I can’t
believe I just left him. What the fuck is wrong with me?
I punch the bed a couple times, letting my anger out. I shouldn’t
have left. I haven’t even been gone for five minutes, and I know I
shouldn’t have left. But dammit, I'm scared. This is everything I’ve
wanted, but Noah is so wholesome, and I’m just me. I don’t have
anything going for me. For fuck's sake, I’m still not sure what I want
to do with my life. Everyone always thinks of me as a jokester or a
partier. I’m not really that person, I haven’t been a partier since high
school. I didn’t want to be that person anymore. But I don’t know
what I have to offer Noah. There's nothing special about me.
Nothing I could brag about. Hell, even my own parents didn’t care to
see if I wanted to come home for the summer.
I lay back on the bed and sigh. It doesn’t matter what I think of
myself, I never should have done that to Noah. I can’t imagine what
he’s feeling right now.
Needing to make this right, I jump up and throw my door open
before racing down the stairs to the living room. All that’s left is his
hoodie on the couch, so I quickly change directions and make my
way to his bedroom down the hallway.
His door is shut when I get there, so I knock and wait quietly. I
count to ten in my head before I knock again.
“Noah?”
I put my ear up to the door, hoping to hear him in there. Hearing a
sniffle, my heart breaks knowing I caused that, and I knock on the
door again.
“Noah, please. I want to talk to you.”
“Go away.”
Fuck me. His voice is shaken and broken. What the hell is wrong
with me?
“Please, can we talk?”
“Asher, please just leave me alone. Okay?”
Putting my back against his door, I slide down, wrapping my arms
over my knees. I bang my head against his door, hoping he opens it.
“No. Not okay. I’m sorry. Fuck, I am so sorry. I was scared. No, I
am scared. I’m so damn scared, Noah. You have this bright energy
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
XIV

Osoittaudun huonoksi suojelusvartijaksi

Minun oli mahdotonta irroittaa silmiäni hänestä, ennenkuin hän

katosi hytinovesta. En voinut punnita, kuinka paljon
voimainponnistusta oli vaadittu laahautumiseen sängystä, mitä
rauhattomuutta ja tuskaa hänen oli täytynyt kärsiä uskaltaakseen
tämän. Jourdainit, alettuaan ihmetellä, kun minä en tullut takaisin ja
kun eivät voineet hillitä kieltään — niin, ehkäpä olivat epäilleet
pahoja aikeita heitä itseäänkin kohtaan — olivat luultavasti menneet
sairaalaan ja kertoneet hänelle käynnistäni — sitä vastaan minulla ei
ollut mahdollisuutta suojata itseäni. Lopun hän oli helposti arvannut.
Hänen oli ainoastaan tarvinnut tarkastaa matkustajaluetteloa
saadakseen selville, että Royce ja minä olimme laivalla. Ja nyt
seurasi hän meitä toivoen — mitä? Mitä voi mies toimittaa
sellaisessa tilassa kuin hän? Mitä syytä meillä oli pelätä häntä? Ja
sittenkin hänessä oli jotakin — jotakin itse hänen ympärillään
olevassa ilmakehässä — joka melkein säikäytti minut. Toinnuttuani
jälleen todellisuuteen huomasin että Royce ja rouva Kemball olivat
vetäytyneet kappaleen matkaa kauemmas ja että neiti Kemball
katseli minua hymyillen puoleksi suljetuin silmin.
 »Vai niin, te olette jo taas hereillä, herra Lester» sanoi hän. »Onko
teillä useinkin tuollaisia kohtauksia?»

»Suokaa anteeksi», änkytin, »asian laita on niin, että minä — että

minä —»

»Tehän näytitte ihan kauhistuttavalta», jatkoi hän armottomasti.

»Pelkästä kauhusta. Minä puolestani en voinut nähdä mitään
peloittavaa hänessä.»

»Ette, te ette tunne häntä!» väitin, mutta pidättäydyin puhumasta

liian paljon.

Nyt hän hymyili avoimesti; ihana hymy, joka sai silmäkulmat

hiukan ryppyyn ja salli minun vilahdukselta nähdä rivin pieniä
valkoisia hampaita.

»Ehkä käymme istumaan», sanoi hän. »Ette näytä vieläkään

oikein tointuneelta. Äitini ja herra Royce ovat hylänneet meidät.»

Etsimme paikan peräkannelta, josta voimme nähdä kaupungin

vähitellen katoavan matkan päähän, suuren laivamme liukuessa
kauemmas lahteen ja sen koneiden aloittaessa poljennollisen
musiikkinsa, joka ei lakkaisi ennenkuin matkan lopussa. Saatan
suoraan tunnustaa, että tunsin itseni rauhattomaksi. Enhän ollut
hetkeäkään ajatellut, että Martignylla olisi uskallusta seurata meitä
samassa laivassa kuin me — ja sittenkään, kun kaikki kävi ympäri,
se ei ollut niin merkillistä, hänellä kun ei ollut aavistustakaan siitä,
että epäilin häntä, että tiesin hänen ja Bethunen olevan saman
henkilön. Tämä oli suuri etuni. Joka tapauksessa meidän ei tarvinnut
lainkaan pelätä häntä; hän seurasi meitä luultavasti vain
varoittaakseen rikostovereitaan siinä tapauksessa, että he olivat
vaarassa joutua ilmi meille. Ainakaan tällä hetkellä he eivät olleet
missään vaarassa ja kenties eivät tulisi koskaan olemaankaan.
Mutta että hän seurasi meitä, että hän ei välittänyt siitä suuresta
vaarasta, jossa hän itse oli, se pani minut paremmin arvostelemaan
sen välinpitämättömyyden astetta, jolla hän toteutti päätöksensä
pettää meitä. Mielikuvituksessani hän seisoi mustan pilven
ympäröimänä, jonka syvyydestä hän katseli meitä, julmana,
kalpeana, uhkaavana.

— Kertoisinko Roycelle tämän uuden havainnon? — kysyin

itseltäni, mutta samassa muistin tohtorin sanat. Hänen tuli saada
lepoa ja rauhaa lähimmän viikon aikana; hänen tuli olla vapaana
kaikesta harmista ja huolesta.

»Toivon, etten häiritse, herra Lester?» lausui vieno, hurmaava ääni

vierestäni ja heräsin tietoisuuteen siitä, että olin taaskin tehnyt itseni
syypääksi seuralaiseni unohtamiseen.

»Neiti Kemball», aloitin epätoivoisena, »minun on tunnustettava

teille, että olen kovin epämiellyttävässä asemassa. Ja se seikka,
etten voi pyytää neuvoa, tekee asian vielä pahemmaksi.»

»Ettekö voi pyytää sitä edes herra Roycelta?» kysyi hän

kohotetuin silmäluomin.

»Häneltä kaikkein vähimmän! Tiedätte, että hän on juuri

paranemaan päin vaikeasta hermostumiskohtauksesta — hänen on
oltava levollinen — siinä on syy, miksi hän tekee tämän matkan.»

»Ymmärrän», sanoi hän ja nyökäytti päätään.

 Katsoin häneen taas — noita avoimia, ujostelemattomia silmiä,
vakavaa suuta ja leukaa — ja tein sukkelan päätöksen.

»Neiti Kemball», sanoin, »aion pyytää teitä avukseni, jos saan».

»Luonnollisesti saatte.»

»No, hyvä. Se henkilö, joka tuli laivaan viimeksi, on sekä herra

Roycen että minun pahin vihollinen. Olemme ryhtyneet ottamaan
selvää eräästä konnanjuonesta, jossa hän on mukana. Minulla on
syytä uskoa hänen pystyvän mihin hyvänsä — hän on oikea
paholainen neuvokkuudessa. En tiedä, mitä pahoja juonia hän meitä
kohtaan keksineekään, mutta että hän jotakin keksii, siitä olen
vakuutettu. Herra Royce ei tunne häntä edes ulkonäöltä eikä häntä
saa tehdä levottomaksi; mutta jollei häntä varoiteta, voi hän syöksyä
suoraan vaaraan. Jos vartioimme hyvin, niin minun ei tarvitse
varoittaa häntä. Tahdotteko auttaa minua.»

Hänen silmänsä loistivat, kun hän katsoi minuun.

»Luonnollisesti!» huudahti hän. »Vai niin, meillä on siis salaisuus,

meillä kahdella!»

»Niin, meillä kahdella!» toistin ja tunsin äkkiä veren virtaavan

nopeammin suonissani.

Hän katsoi minuun hetken vähän kahden vaiheella.

»Minun on muistettava herra Grahamin varoitus», sanoi hän.

»Ettehän vain ole keksinyt tätä merkillistä juttua vain huvittaaksenne
minua, herra Lester?
 »Kunniasanalla, en», vastasin tavalla, joka vivahti närkästykselle.
»Toivoakseni se on sillä hyvä!»

»Suokaa anteeksi, herra Lester», sanoi hän vähän katuvasti;

»minun ei olisi pitänyt epäillä teitä! Se tuntui vain niin romanttiselta,
niin uskomattomalta…»

»Se tuntuu uskomattomalta», myönsin, »mutta onnettomuudeksi

se on joka tapauksessa totta. Meidän on pidettävä silmämme auki
monsieur Martignyn eli Bethunen suhteen.»

»Mikä hänen oikea nimensä on?»

»Nämä ovat ainoat, jotka tunnen, mutta epäilen, onko kumpikaan

niistä oikea.»

Royce ja rouva Kemball tulivat luoksemme, ja me istuimme

katsellen Long Islandin matalia, kaukaisia rantoja, kunnes kello
kutsui aterialle. Olimme sopineet stuertin kanssa ja sillä tavoin
saaneet pienen pöydän eräässä sivulla olevassa komerossa —
rouva Kemball ja hänen tyttärensä luopuivat mielellään ja iloisina
kunniasta istua kapteenin pöydässä esiintyäkseen sen sijaan
emäntänä meille — ja ruokailu oli hyvin hilpeätä. Roycekin oli niin
hyvällä tuulella, että se vahvisti minua päätöksessäni olla tekemättä
häntä levottomaksi kertomalla Martignyn olosta laivassa.

Jokaisena hetkenä, joka kului, tuntui pelkoni vähenevän

vähenemistään. Olihan hyvin mahdollista, ajattelin itsekseni, että
kuvittelin aaveita keskellä kirkasta päivää. Ranskalainen ei
näyttäytynyt salongissa, ja jälkeenpäin tiedusteltuani sain laivan
lääkäriltä kuulla, että hän oli huolestuttavan sairaana eikä kyennyt
lähtemään hytistänsä.
 Niin kului iltapäivä ja ilta. Laivalla oli muitakin, jotka tahtoivat
myöskin saada nauttia vähän rakastettavan rouva Kemballin ja
hänen tyttärensä seurasta. Roycekin tunsi muutamia heistä ja esitti
minut heille, mutta miten olikaan, heidän keskustelunsa tuntui
minusta mauttomalta ja epämiellyttävältä. Sitäpaitsi matkatoverini
näytti minusta väsyneeltä, ja lopuksi hiivimme niiden joukosta pois
kannelle, jossa istuimme korituoleissamme yli tunnin ajan ja
katselimme tanssivia laineita ja kuuntelimme veden kohinaa laivan
kohotessa ja laskeutuessa. Päällikköni ajatteli luultavasti erästä
kaunista ruskeasilmäistä, jonka oikut olivat hänelle selittämättömiä.

Mitä minuun tulee — no niin, minä olin äkkiä alkanut ihailla sinisiä
silmiä.

Voin perin mielelläni myöntää heti olleeni merikipeä. Oireet

tuntuivat seuraavana aamuna kymmenen minuuttia hytistäni
lähtemisen jälkeen — vaikka ei se ollut ankara meritauti vain
heikkous ja pyörrytys, joka sai minut ikävöimään hyttiin jälleen. Mutta
Royce ei tahtonut kuulla puhuttavankaan menemisestä alas. Hän sai
minut ylös kannelle ja alas tuoliini, joka oli sijotettuna niin, että raitis
tuuli puhalsi suoraan vasten kasvojani. Pitkä rivi tuoleja oli asetettu
sinne, ja päättäen useimpain niiden omistajain ulkomuodosta
ymmärsin, että he olivat paljon kipeämmät kuin minä. Tämän
menettelyn ansiosta olin tunnin perästä melkein terve taas ja voinpa
vielä sangen hyvällä ruokahalulla nauttia sen aterian, jonka Royce
lähetti minulle ylös. Hetkisen kuluttua tuli tohtori katsomaan, miten
voimme, pakisten meidän jokaisen kanssa muutaman hetken.
Sairaimmat olivat alhaalla kannen alla, eikä kukaan meistä tarvinnut
muuta kuin vähän rohkaisua.
 »Ettekö halua istuutua hetkeksi, tohtori?» kysyin, kun hän tuli
luokseni, ja tarjosin hänelle Roycen tuolin.

»Mitä, ettehän te näytä sairaalta», intti hän nauraen, mutta istuutui

kuitenkin tyhjälle tuolille.

»En minä haluakaan puhua itsestäni», sanoin. »Mitenkä se teidän

toinen sairaanne voi — hän, joka tuli viimeiseksi laivaan?»

Hänen katseensa sai heti totisen ilmeen.

»Hänen nimensä on Martigny», sanoi hän, »ja hän on pahassa

pulassa. Hänelle on täytynyt olla hyvin tärkeätä tulla takaisin
Ranskaan juuri tällä laivalla. Minua ei olisi yhtään ihmetyttänyt, jos
hän olisi kaatunut kuoliaana rantaportaalle.»

»Sydäntautiako hän sairastaa?»

»Niin, ja pitkäaikaista. Hän ei voi luonnollisesti koskaan tulla

terveeksi, mutta voisi elää joka tapauksessa kauan, jos vain olisi
varovainen.

»Onko hän vielä vuoteen omana?»

»No, jos hän tottelee neuvoani, niin hän ei nouse ylös koko
matkan aikana. Hänen on annettava sydämelleen niin vähän työtä
kuin mahdollista, muuten se loppuu kokonaan vielä laivamatkalla.
Hänellä ei ole paljon toisin menettelemisen varaa.»

Sitten hän alkoi puhua muista asioista, ja muutaman hetken

kuluttua hän lähti kiertämään edelleen. Mutta minun ei tarvinnut olla
kauan yksinäni, sillä pian näin neiti Kemballin tulevan vastaani
reippaana ja ruusuisena kuin Diana.
 »Vai niin, meritauti on ollut ankara teitäkin kohtaan, herra Lester!»
sanoi hän iloisesti.

»Ei sanottavasti», vastasin. »Mutta lieväkin on vähemmän

miellyttävä.
Ettekö sääli maamiesparkaa ja tarinoitse vähän hänen kanssaan?»

»Ei, sehän on aivan päinvastainen suhde!» intti hän, mutta istuutui

kuitenkin suureksi tyydytyksekseni. »Tehän olitte se, jonka piti
hauskuttaa minua! Onko Mefistofeleksemme jo tullut ulos?» kysyi
hän matalammalla äänellä. »Minäkin tunnen hänen
velhovaikutustansa ja ikävöin häntä taas.»

»Mefistofeles taistelee vielä sydämensä kanssa, jonka on vaikea

pitää verta tarpeenmukaisessa kiertokulussa, kuten näyttää. Tohtori
sanoi juuri äsken, että hän luultavasti saa viettää koko matkan
vuoteessa.»

»Meille ei sitten jää mitään tekemistä! Tiedättekö, herra Lester,

haluaisin todellakin tulla naispuoliseksi Lecoq'ksi!»

»Ehkäpä vielä saatte siihen tilaisuuden», sanoin synkästi.

»Epäilen suuresti sitä, että Mefistofeles pysyisi toimettomana. Hän ei
näy olevan sitä laatua.»

Hän taputti käsiänsä ja nyökäytti päätään eräälle ohikulkevalle

tutulle.

»Oletteko menossa Pariisiin, neiti Kemball?» kysyin.

»Pariisiin, kyllä. Te kai tulette myös sinne? Teidän täytyy, kun

kerran matkustatte Ranskaan.»
 »Tiemme vie ensin Etretatiin», sanoin, mutta keskeytin, kun hän
nauraen nojausi taaksepäin tuolissaan. »Mitä merkillistä siinä on?»
kysyin vähän kummastuneena.

»Merkillistä? Ei mitään. Etretat on ihana paikka — se muistutti

minua vain eräästä hauskasta tapauksesta — mitenkä eräät siellä
kylpemässä olevat näyttelijät kerran harjoittivat ilkeyttä äitiäni
kohtaan. Se on kaikista kaunein pieni kalastuspaikka ihanimpine
kallioineen, mitä koskaan olen nähnyt. Mutta kesäkausihan tuskin on
vielä alkanut Etretatissa — taiteilijat eivät vielä ole ennättäneet tulla.
Teistä varmaan tuntunee siellä hyvin hiljaiselta ja yksitoikkoiselta.»

»Me emme jää sinne oleilemaan», sanoin. »Mutta kuvailkaa

minulle sitä!
Haluaisin tietää vähän siitä.»

»Etretat», sanoi neiti Kemball, »on oikeastaan taiteilijain

pesäpaikka. Alphonse Karr löysi sen pitkät ajat sitten ja teki sen
tunnetuksi. Etretatin asukkaat olivat hyvin kiitollisia hänelle ja
nimittivät kylän pääkadun hänen mukaansa — ja sen jälkeen on
joukko taiteilijoita ja teatteriväkeä rakentanut huviloita sinne. Siellä
on pieni hiekkaranta, jossa väki kylpee koko päivän. Ja kun on
väsynyt kylpemään, niin ovat jäljellä vielä kalliot ja hietasärkät ja
iltaisin kasino. Te kai puhutte ranskaa, herra Lester?»

»Luin sitä tietysti hiukan koulussa», selitin. »Muistan vielä j'ai tu

as, il a.»

»Kyllä muistatte enemmänkin, kunhan pääsette Etretatiin», sanoi

hän nauraen. »Silloin teidän on pakko muistaa, muuten kuolette
nälkään.»
 »Osaan myöskin sen lauseparren, jonka Mark Twain on tehnyt
kuolemattomaksi.»

»Tiedän — 'Avez-vous-du-vin?'»

»Ja vielä luulen myöskin hämärästi muistavani miten ranskaksi

lausutaan voileipä, juusto ja liha. Niin että emme me suinkaan
nälkään kuole. Sitä paitsi tuleehan herra Royce sangen hyvin
toimeen kielessä. Hän on ollut Ranskassa.»

»Niin, kyllä! Tuossa hän nyt tulee vaatimaan tuoliansa.»

»Sitä minä en anna hänelle, jos vain haluatte käyttää sitä vielä»,
panin vastaan.

»Minun täytyy mennä tieheni joka tapauksessa», ja hän nousi

nauraen ylös. »Olenko huvittanut kylliksi?»

»Enemmän kuin kylliksi; en halua ketään muita huvittamaan

itseäni.»

»Mutta te ette tarvitsekaan ketään tämän jälkeen, minä en

todellakaan usko, että olette enää sairas!»

Nyökäten Roycelle hän poistui odottamatta vastaustani, joka jäikin

sanomatta, ja minä jäin istumaan ja unelmoimaan mitä ruusuisimpia,
uskomattomia unelmia.

Lauantai, sunnuntai ja maanantai kuluivat, ilman että mitään

muuta huomattavaa olisi tapahtunut kuin on tavallista kaikilla
matkoilla. Tyyneys ja meri-ilma vaikuttivat oikein suotuisasti
matkatoveriini, ja hän alkoi vähitellen saada takaisin entisen
terveydentilansa. Minä sen vuoksi tunsin itseni yhä enemmän ja
enemmän vapaaksi omistautumaan neiti Kemballille — kun hän niin
salli — ja huomasin hänellä olevan joka kerralla yhä suuremman
vetovoiman minuun. Martigny makasi edelleenkin vuoteessaan ja oli,
tohtorin ilmoituksen mukaan, paranemaan päin, vaikka se kävikin
hitaasti.

Tiistai-iltana olivat rouva Kemball ja hänen tyttärensä yhtyneet

seuraamme kävelykannella, ja lopuksi, väsyneinä Straussin
valsseihin ja Sousan marsseihin, ohjasimme me askeleemme laivan
keulaan, jossa orkesterin pauhina ylettyi meihin vain katkonaisin
sävelin. Löysimme istuinpaikan peräsinkojun varjossa ja istuimme
kauan aikaa puhellen kaikenlaisista asioista ja katsellen kuun
heijastusta veteen. Vihdoin nousimme lähteäksemme takaisin, ja
Royce ja rouva Kemball kulkivat tapansa mukaan edellä, jota
tekoaan, kun nyt jälkeenpäin sitä ajattelen, Royce saa kiittää.

»Kahden päivän perästä olemme Hovressa», sanoin, »minulle

tulee hyvin ikävä, neiti Kemball».

»Ikävä? Minulla ei ollut aavistustakaan siitä, että olitte niin

mieltynyt mereen!»

»Ei se merestä johdu», väitin; ja kun nyt oli kuutamo, kaunis ilta ja
houkutteleva tilaisuus — »aika, paikka ja rakastettu, kaikki yhdessä»
— niin en tiedä mihin hullutuksiin olisin tehnytkään itseni syypääksi,
jos ei tuo nuori tyttö olisi äkkiä hypännyt esiin huudahtaen kovasti.

»Herra Royce!» huusi hän. »Äiti!»

He pysähtyivät ja kääntyivät ympäri juuri kun raskas nostopuomi

ryskien syöksyi alas kannelle heidän eteensä.
XV

Kaksin on parempi kuin yksin

Salamannopeasti ymmärsin, mitä oli tapahtunut ja juoksin portaita

ylös ylemmälle kannelle, päättäen tehdä kerta kaikkiaan tilin
viholliseni kanssa. Etsin häntä kaikkialta, katselin veneiden sisään ja
alle ja savupiippujen ja ilmanvaihtotorvien taakse, mutta en voinut
keksiä jälkeäkään kenestäkään. Kun tulin takaisin kävelykannelle, oli
sinne kokoontunut pieni joukko ihmisiä, jotka olivat kuulleet putoavan
nostopuomin jysähdyksen; kymmenen, kaksitoista laivamiestä oli nyt
hinaamassa sitä jälleen paikoilleen.

»En ymmärrä, miten nuo kiinnikkeet ovat voineet aueta», sanoi

vahdissa oleva upseeri. »Kiinnitimme tuon puomin ennen
lähtöämme, ja tiedän, että se tuli tehdyksi kunnollisesti.»

Minä tarkastelin köysiä. Niitä ei ollut leikattu poikki, kuten olisi

odottanut näkevänsä, vaan avattu. Martigny oli epäilemättä tehnyt
sen meidän istuessamme ja pakistessamme — hän oli taitava
rikoksissa tehdäkseen itsensä syypääksi mihinkään niin kömpelöön
temppuun kuin nuorien katkomiseen.
 »No, onneksi ei ole mitään vahinkoa tapahtunut, vaikka olipa niin
ja näin että pääsimme alta», huomautti Royce teennäisen iloisesti.
»Jos ei neiti Kemball olisi huutanut, olisi puomi pudonnut suoraan
päällemme.»

Rouva Kemball, jonka kädet vapisivat vähän, käänsi katseensa

siihen suuntaan, josta Roycen ääni kuului hänelle, ja upseeri rypisti
otsaansa ja näytti synkältä ja miettivältä. Samassa tuli kapteeni, ja
he kaksi vetäytyivät sivulle pitämään neuvottelua niin hiljaisella
äänellä, että ainoastaan muutama ranskankielinen sana silloin tällöin
kuultiin. Minä käännyin neiti Kemballiin, joka kalpeana ja silmät
suurina kauhusta seisoi laivan reunakaidetta vasten nojautuneena.

»Mutta se ei ollut mikään tapaturma, herra Lester», kuiskasi hän.

»Näin haamun kumartuneena raakapuun ylitse — vain niin kuin
varjo-olennon — mutta tiedän, etten ole voinut erehtyä.»

Nyökkäsin.

»En epäile ensinkään sitä. Mutta älkää sanoko sitä äidillenne! Se

saisi hänet vain tarpeettomasti huolestuneeksi. Keskustelemme siitä
enemmän huomisaamuna.»

Hän sanoi hyvää yötä ja vei äitinsä mukanaan hyttiin. Minä menin
heti etsimään laivan lääkäriä ja tapasin hänet salonkiportaiden
alapäässä.

»Mitenkä Martigny voi, tohtori», kysäisin.

»Huonommin, pelkään», vastasi hän kiireesti. »Hän on juuri

lähettänyt sanan minulle.»

»Mikä hytti hänellä on?»

 »Numero 375, ulkohytti ylemmällä kannella.»

Sen sanottuaan hän juoksi portaita ylös.

Menin vielä tupakkahuoneeseen ja tutkistelin siellä riippuvaa

värillistä laivan karttaa. Hetken kuluttua minulle oli selvänä, kuinka
helposti Martigny oli välttänyt joutumasta kiinni — hänellä oli ollut
ainoastaan viisi, kuusi metriä käytävänä avatakseen ovensa ja
paneutuakseen taas sänkyyn. Mutta selvästi tämä pienikin
voimainponnistus oli ollut liian suuri hänelle, ja tulin taas siihen
synnilliseen ajatukseen, että ehkäpä vihollisemme vapauttaisi meidät
itsestään.

Kun seuraavana aamuna otin paikkani neiti Kemballin vieressä,

sulki hän kirjansa ja kääntyi minuun päättävä ilme kasvoillaan.

»Herra Lester», alkoi hän, »jos luulette, että se voi vahingoittaa,

niin minä luonnollisesti en tahdo, että te sanotte sanaakaan; mutta
muuten olen mielestäni oikeutettu saamaan selityksen».

»Se on myöskin minun mielipiteeni», myönsin. »Olette osoittanut

olevanne parempi tähystäjä kuin minä. Olin kokonaan unohtanut
Martignyn — minä ajattelin jotakin aivan toista — minulla ei ollut
ajatustakaan vaarasta.»

»Sitä ei ollut minullakaan», sanoi hän kiireesti. »Mutta tulin

sattumalta katsahtaneeksi ylös ja sain silloin nähdä mustan haamun
kumartuneena eteenpäin heidän ylitsensä, ja ennenkuin minulla oli
aikaa ajatella, kirkaisin heille — aivan tahtomattani.»

»Se oli juuri heidän pelastuksensa. Jos olisitte pidättäytynyt

ajatellaksenne ensin, niin se olisi ollut liian myöhäistä.»
 »Niin, mutta jälkeenpäin saatoin tosiaankin ajatella! Minun tarvitsi
vain sulkea silmäni yöllä, niin näin hänet siellä taas, väijyen meitä,
odottaen sopivaa tilaisuutta. Ja niin en luonnollisesti voinut olla
murehtimatta kaiken sen johdosta.»

»Teidän ei tarvitse surra enää», sanoin ja katsoin ympärilleni

vakuuttautuakseni, ettei ketään ollut läheisyydessä.

Alkaen Hiram Holladayn kuolemasta kerroin sitten kohta kohdalta

koko jutun. Hän kuunteli kädet ristissä ja jännittynein ilmein, mutta ei
sanonut mitään ennenkuin olin lopettanut. Silloin nojautui hän
taaksepäin tuolissaan ja huokasi syvään.

»Se on kauheata!» kuiskasi hän. »Kauheata ja käsittämätöntä.

Mutta te ette ole sanonut minulle vielä mitenkä selitätte asian, herra
Lester.»

»Minulla ei ole mitään selitystä», vastasin avuttomasti »Olen

mietiskellyt sinne ja tänne, mutta mikään punnitsemiseni ei ole
näyttänyt pitävän paikkaansa. En tiedä mitä uskoa; jollei vain neiti
Holladay olisi joutunut hypnotismin taikka jonkinlaisen
mielipuolisuuden uhriksi, joka myöskin on uskottavaa.»

Hän istui hetken ja katsoi miettivänä eteensä.

»On olemassa tapa, luulen, jolla mahdollisesti voitaisiin selittää se,

osittain ainakin. Ehkä se ei ollut lainkaan neiti Holladay, joka ajoi
Washington Squarelle uuden kamarineidin kanssa. Ehkä se oli joku
muu nainen ja että nuo lukitut ikkunat itse asiassa olivat neiti
Holladayn vankina pitämistä varten. Ajatelkaa häntä siellä, Martignyn
ollessa vanginvartijana!»
 »Mutta hän ei ollut siellä!» väitin vastaan. »Näimmehän me hänet
antaessamme hänelle rahat. Sekä herra Royce että minä näimme —
ja herra Graham myös.»

»Niin — melkein pimeässä huoneessa kääre otsalla ja ääni niin

sortuneena, ettei voinut puhua. Eipä ihme, että herra Royce tuskin
tunsi häntä!»

Vaikenin hetken miettiäkseni.

»Muistakaa, että se selittäisi useamman kuin yhden asian, kun ei

kerran löydy muuta uskottavaa selitystä», jatkoi neiti Kemball.
»Esimerkiksi ne teljetyt ikkunat ja vangin käytös.

»Niin, se on totta», myönsin, vaikka tämä arvelu ei ensi

silmänräpäyksessä saanut hyväksymistäni. »Mutta uskotteko
todellakin, että neiti Holladay on viety pois väkivallalla?»

»Tietysti! Jos hän lainkaan olisi kadottanut ymmärryksensä, niin

olisi se tapahtunut heti, eikä kaksi viikkoa murhan jälkeen.»

»Mutta jos hän oli surrut sitä», intin.

»Sitä hän ei tehnyt, ainakin hän oli lakannut siitä. Olettehan kuullut
sekä herra Roycelta että hovimestarilta, että hän oli paranemaan
päin, iloisempi ja muuten enemmän kaltaisensa. Minkä vuoksi hän
olisi uudelleen antautunut surun valtaan?»

»En tiedä», sanoin neuvotonna. »Kuta enemmän mietin asiaa, sitä

käsittämättömämmältä se tuntuu. Sitäpaitsi tämä juttu on eilisiltana
saattanut minut sellaiseen tuohtuneeseen mielentilaan, etten voi
punnita selvästi. Minä en voi olla ajattelematta, kuinka huolimaton
olin, etten täyttänyt velvollisuuttani.»
 »Sitä en pahoittelisi, jos olisin teidän sijassanne! Mutta eräs toinen
asia», lisäsi hän vähän ankarasti, »tehän olette nyt huomannut, että
teidän syyksenne yksin lankeaa, että Martigny on täällä laivassa?»

»Mutta minun oli pakko mennä Jourdainiin», puolustelin itseäni;

»enkä voinut auttaa sitä, että he menivät hänen luokseen — pyytää
heitä olemaan menemättä olisi saanut heidät epäilemään minua
heti».

»Niin, niin tietysti; mutta eihän teidän ainakaan tarvinnut lähettää

heitä. He eivät ehkä olisi menneet lainkaan muuten — eivätkä
varmasti niin pian — jollette olisi lähettänyt heitä.»

»Lähettänyt heitä!» toistin ja tuijotin hämmästyneenä häneen,

epätietoisena siitä, olinko kuullut oikein.

»Niin, lähettänyt», sanoi hän vielä kerran painolla. »Minkä vuoksi

he menivät sairaalaan niin varhain seuraavana aamuna?»

»Luullakseni heidän epäluulonsa oli kasvanut minua kohtaan.»

»Lorua! Mitä syytä heillä olisi ollut epäillä teitä? Se oli päinvastoin
juuri sen vuoksi, että he eivät epäilleet teitä, sen vuoksi että he
tahtoivat tehdä teidän mieliksenne ja tuuletuttaa huoneenne; sanalla
sanoen, sen vuoksi että te pyysitte heitä menemään — he menivät
noutamaan noiden ikkunalukkojen avaimia. Ne olivat tietysti
Martignylla.»

Hetken ajan istuin vailla vastausta. Saatoin vain tuijottaa häneen.

Mutta vihdoin palautui puhekykyni jälleen.

»Oh, millainen pölkkypää olen ollutkin!» jatkoin minä katkerasti.

»Etten hoksannut sitä ennen! Olin sellaisessa järkkyneessä
mielentilassa havaintoni vuoksi sinä päivänä, että en voinut ajatella
mitään muuta. Luonnollisesti tuli koko juttu ilmi, kun he pyysivät
avaimia.»

»No, minä en olisi niin ankara itseäni kohtaan», sanoi neiti

Kemball nauraen ja katsoi ilkamoivasti minuun istuessani siinä
katuvannäköisenä. »Omasta puolestani minusta on sangen hyvä,
että hän on mukana laivassa.»

»Hyvä? Sitä ette kai voine tarkoittaa?»

»Kyllä, sitä juuri tarkoitan. Otaksukaa, että Jourdainit eivät olisi

menneet hänen luokseen; silloin hän olisi joka tapauksessa lähtenyt
sairaalasta parin kolmen päivän perästä — sillä hän ei ole sellainen,
joka makaa toimetonna tietäessään teidän ajavan pakolaisia takaa.
Hän olisi niin muodoin tullut takaisin huoneeseensa samassa
talossa, jossa teidän asuntonne on; emäntänne olisi ilmoittanut
hänelle teidän matkustaneen Eurooppaan, ja hänen olisi vain
tarvinnut lukea läpi tämän höyrylaivan matkustajaluettelo
saadakseen nähdä nimenne. Niin että, kuten näette, ei ole paljon
syytä suruun.»

»Mutta kaikissa tapauksissa», muistutin, »hän olisi jäänyt

Amerikkaan. Hän ei olisi ennättänyt tavata meitä. Meillä olisi ollut
hyvä ennätys hänestä.»

»Niin, hän ei olisi ennättänyt tavata teitä, se on totta, mutta sen

sijaan olisi sähkösanoma mennyt teidän ohitsenne yli meren ja
varoittanut hänen liittolaisiaan. Jos he saavat aikaa piilottaa
vankinsa, niin ette tule koskaan saamaan tietoa hänestä — teidän
ainoa toivonne on siinä, että yllätätte heidät valmistautumattomina.
Ja vielä yksi syy — kun hän on kerran laivassa, niin meillä on vielä
hyvä tilaisuus urkkia enemmän — vaikka mennä tarinoimaan hänen
kanssaan? — Silloinhan saatte sen 'älykkyystaistelun', jota
ikävöitte.»

»Olen kyllä ajatellut sitä», sanoin, »mutta pelkään, etten voi

näytellä osaani».

»Osaanne?»

»Niin, näytellä luulemattomuutta, näyttää avoimelta ja suoralta

häntä kohtaan, olla kertovinani hänelle kaikki suunnitelmani.
Pelkään, että hän näkee lävitseni heti ensi silmänräpäyksessä ja saa
minut kiinni jostakin hairahduksesta. Se on liian suuri vaiva.»

»Mutta etu olisi teidän puolellanne», muistutti hän. »Voisitte puhua

hänelle niin monta asiaa kuin hän jo tietää ja kun hänellä ei ole
mitään syytä epäillä teidän tietävän, että hän tietää. Se on hyvin
mutkallista — mutta ymmärrättehän te joka tapauksessa?»

»Tietysti.»

»Ja niin olisi aivan luonnollista, että menitte hänen luokseen niin
pian kuin saitte tietää hänen olevan sairaana. Vältellä häntä olisi
samaa kuin tunnustaa epäilevänne häntä.»

»Mutta hänen nimensä ei ole matkustajaluettelossa. Jollen olisi

sattumalla huomannut häntä, kun hän tuli laivaan, niin en luultavasti
olisi koskaan saanut tietää hänen olevan täällä.»

»Ehkäpä hän näki teidät samalla kertaa.»

»Ehkä, siinä tapauksessa ovat asiat vielä pahemmin», sanoin.

»Jos hän tietää, että minä tiedän hänen olevan laivassa, niin hän
arvaa myöskin minun epäilevän häntä; ja jos ei hän sitä tiedä, niin,
silloin ei hänellä ole mitään syytä luulla, että saisin tiedon hänestä,
jos hän vain ei näyttäydy salongissa, mikä ei näytä hyvin
uskottavalta.»

Hän istui hiljaa pari minuuttia katsellen vettä.

»Ehkä olette oikeassa», sanoi hän vihdoin; »ei maksa vaivaa

antautua uusiin vaaroihin. Asia houkutteli minua, minusta itsestäni
olisi hupaista pakinoida puoli tuntia ja mittailla voimia hänen
kanssaan.»

»Mutta te olettekin nerokkaampi kuin minä», selitin. »Sen olette

selvästi osoittanut viimeisten minuuttien kuluessa.»

»Eikö mitä, sitä en ole tehnyt; olen vain näyttänyt teille, että olette
sivuuttanut pikku seikat. Ja uskon teidän olevan oikeassa mitä tulee
vaaraan, joka johtuisi käynnistänne Martignyn luona. Ensimmäinen
velvollisuutemme on neiti Holladayta kohtaan; meidän on
pelastettava hänet, ennenkuin Martigny ennättää varoittaa
rikostovereitaan, niin että he vievät hänet jonnekin, josta emme voi
häntä löytää.»

Se teeskentelemätön tapa, jolla hän sanoi »me», täytti minun

sieluni selittämättömällä onnella.

»Mutta miksi he kiusautuvat pitämällä lainkaan vankina? Eiväthän

he häikäilleet tappaessaan hänen isänsä.»

»Eivätkä he ehkä häikäile tappaessaan hänetkin, kun vain

otollinen tilaisuus ilmestyy», vastasi hän tyynesti. »Se on helpompaa
Ranskassa kuin New Yorkissa — ehkäpä ovat he jo suorittaneet