Nat's Nook Novels & Stories

“Exactly.” We went around the store, carefully picking out a robe, a few candles with names like Moonlight Meadow and Barefoot Escape, and a mug that read I have no filter after wine. Noah insisted on the mug. “She’ll laugh,” he promised. As we made our way to the checkout, he glanced at me, his voice casual. “You know Luke texted me last week.” I raised an eyebrow. “Luke?” “Yeah. From the club night.” I gave a short laugh. “You mean third-party, wine-loosened-hips Luke?”

Noah chuckled lightly, "Yes. That's exactly what I'm trying to say, actually. I was driving around trying to clear my head when I found this place and it did just what I needed." I briefly wondered what it was that Noah was getting away from. Maybe it was his father or... I didn't know but I didn't ask him because it wasn't any of my business. "I had a place like this in Saratoga," I told him, looking out at the water. I could feel his gaze on me, intently like he was interested but also surprised I was telling him anything. "It was this... rooftop garden on top of a tall, old building. Nobody tended to the garden so when I first found it it was just a giant mess with dead plants everywhere.

one of them said, pointing at a spot where they could lay their mat. Noah glanced up briefly but quickly returned to her book, engrossed in the storyline. Moments later, her phone rang, the sudden sound startling her. She reached into her bag and pulled it out, seeing an unknown number flash on the screen. "Hello? Yes?" she answered, her voice uncertain. The line crackled, and the call abruptly ended from the stranger’s end. Confused, she put the phone back in her bag, shrugging off the odd interruption. Laughter and chatter grew louder, drawing Noah’s attention. She looked up and saw Nick and his friends approaching, three of them carrying skateboards. Nick, with his usual swagger, called o

Of course pack members come around, and Finn drops by all the time, but those are transient visits. Noah is about to rub his scent right into the molecular structure of my bedroom if I have any say in the matter. Last time he was here we stayed in the backyard. He stops two steps inside and does the sweep, exits, angles, sight lines, and then a slower second pass that isn't tactical at all. "You have books." "You expected what, a pile of bones?" "Weights. Tubs of protein powder. A wall of selfies." He's still turning. "It's nice."

I tugged Noah’s shelve until his ear was beside my mouth, “So, how do we do it?” “Not we, but you. I will stay here to torture Natalie, and you’ll go alone.” Noah opened Natalie’s cell, exposing her looking beaten from head to toe. Her face was filled with horrendous scars, and her eyes wandered around as she heard us enter. “She is blind now,” Noah told me. “Hello, Natalie. I’m your executor for today. My brother isn’t in good condition to deal with you so he asks me to do it on his behalf. You won’t mind, will you?”

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’ I sighed quietly and hoped for the best. ‘Well…I could do that.’ I heard Nova whisper from my left ear. ‘Please, anything.’ I don’t even want to ask about what Nova’s going to do, I just don’t want Natalie to know that her pet Lion (Ben) and I met that day. “So, Natalie. What’s your booth based on?” After staring at me for a few seconds he turned to Natalie who was focused on her menu. “It’s a prison booth…” Natalie then continued to explain what the booth was for and where the funds would directly go after the festivities.

Nat exclaimed under her breath at the topic on the screen. Anna's eyes narrowed in confusion as she looked at the screen just as Nat turned to her and said, "What are we going to do?"

On the day of Noah’s art exhibition, Natalie took her time getting ready. Her makeup was light and natural—just a touch of color on her cheeks and a soft sheen on her lips. She wore her hair in a loose braid over one shoulder, with a few wisps left free to gently frame her face. Her dress was a deep, muted red—simple in design, with short sleeves. She was just about to text Noah that she was ready when his message came through.

A knock on my door from one of the staff tells me that Noland is waiting for me for lunch. A small detail to notice, he doesn’t text me that much. He could have sent me a text letting me know, but he chose to use one of the staff to do it. I check my phone one more time for any new messages from Natasha, and after I found none, I head downstairs to satiate my grumbling stomach.