Was I supposed to be taking off my clothes now? I wanted to run away.

Noah took my hand and sat me down on the couch. He pulled my chin up so I was looking at him. All I could do was try not to pass out.

"Poppy," he said.

I gulped.

"I had a great time with you the other day, but we didn't really do what we were supposed to, did we?"

Were we supposed to have sex in the coffee shop? I shook my head. The lace of my knickers itched the top of my leg.

"I brought you here so we could...talk about all that serious stuff we successfully dodged the other day."

My mouth fell open. "Talk?" I repeated dumbly.

Noah looked surprised. "Yes. Why else would I bring you here?"

The fear and the awkwardness disappeared. God, I was stupid. Talk! Of course. Talking. Like people do. Why did I get so wound up?

With all the tension vanished, I curled up under Noah's arm and looked up at him. "I dunno. Of course. Yeah. What do you wanna talk about?"

He seemed confused by my complete change of mood but went with it.

"Well, there's a lot I feel I need to tell you...about myself," he stammered. "I feel you should...well...know some stuff about me before you get all involved."

Touched by his new nervousness, I cuddled closer to him, loving the feeling of his arms enveloping me.

"Is this about you being the man-whore of Babylon?"

More confusion. "What?"

"It's okay. I've already tortured myself about all the girls you must've brought back here." I wasn't sure why I was saying all this. "So go on torture me some more about what a stud you are."

Noah wasn't impressed. "You think I brought girls back here?"

"Noah, this place is like a babe-magnet. I'm surprised you haven't installed a revolving door."

I was suddenly un-scooped from his embrace. He stood up, his eyes hurt and face angry.

"I've never brought anyone to my place before, Poppy," he said, looking me straight in the eye.

The eye contact made my heart race again and I could feel adrenalin coursing through my body. I'd somehow managed to get things incredibly wrong.

"You...you...haven't?"

"No. This is the only place I can...be...I dunno. You're the first girl I've ever brought here. I stupidly thought it would be special. But now you're just implying I'm some player messing you around."

I thought about it. "That isn't strictly true," I replied quietly. "But come on, Noah. I've heard the rumours about you and your...umm...promiscuous ways." He smiled slightly and relief began replacing the angsty ball in my stomach. "You've not even denied them. So I've got all that to deal with and then you bring me here, and there's a leather couch, for God's sake. What am I supposed to think? I don't necessarily believe you're playing me...well, I really hope not, because my instinct tells me you're not-"

"I'm not, Poppy," he interrupted. "I'm really not."

He sat back down and we stared at each other. Again, something passed between us, electricity, if that were possible. When it got too tense, I crossed my eyes and pulled a face.

Noah laughed. "I suppose I can clear everything up if I explain it to you."

"I'm sure you can."

He looked away. "But I'm scared..."

I was surprised. Noah didn't appear to be a person who was scared of anything. "Scared of what?" I lightly touched his forearm.

"Scared you'll go off me."

I almost laughed at the stupidity of what he'd said. The fact someone like him could think someone like me was capable of "going off him" was insane.

"Don't be stupid."

He just smiled sadly. "There's a reason for all the rumours."

"I'm all ears."

"I just think you should know before, you know, you fall in love with me or something."

The words spilled out of my mouth before I consciously realized what I was saying, it was such a stock response: "I don't believe in love."

And though I hadn't meant it to, the atmosphere broke, and Noah finally laughed again and pushed me over on the sofa.

"God, sorry. I forgot, Mrs. Strong-Independent-Woman."

I struggled to get myself right again, my hair all over my face. "That's MS. Strong-Independent-Woman to you."

He pushed me over again and I screamed and retaliated, trying to push him over using my feet. Instead he grabbed my foot and began tickling it.

"Stop, stop!" I screamed, trying to wiggle away. I managed to kick my foot out of his hands and flipped my body up, using my arms now to topple his balance. Annoyingly, he caught them too and wrestled me backwards. I fought with every bit of strength but he soon had me pinned on my back.

Noah lay, practically on top of me, casually restricting my arms behind my head with one hand. My heart had another fit as I adjusted to having his body weight on top of mine. There was no space between us, and I could smell his scent. It was intoxicating. Noah stared at my face, his black eyes scanning every part of it. I stared back, willing him to kiss me. Using his other hand, he brushed a strand of messed-up hair behind my ear.

"This isn't talking," he whispered. His hot breath on my face made me shudder with deliciousness.

I strained towards him a little. Not obviously. But enough for our mouths to be closer. Lust had taken over my body like a parasite, intent on the destruction of any sane part of my brain. "So talk then," I whispered back.

His eyes searched my face and I felt I would never feel this good ever again. As good as it felt right then with Noah looking at me like that.

"Just give me a moment."

I stretched forward but he didn't kiss me. Instead, he righted himself until he was sitting normally.

"Come on, Poppy. It's serious time."

I frowned, irritated, and sat up too. "Alright. Spill then. What's your big bad secret?"

Noah opened his mouth to speak, and then stopped himself. He ran a hand through his thick hair and looked down.

"You okay?"

He looked at me again. And I felt my stomach go gooey. Again.

Noah shook his head. "Can we get a drink first?"

I sighed.

"Go on then."

A few minutes later we sat back on the sofa, nursing two cold bottles of beer from his fridge. I curled my legs under myself and watched Noah struggle. It was amusing seeing him so wound up, a nice power reversal. I took a cautious sip and waited for him to start speaking.

He was staring into his beer intently, watching the bubbles foam. Then he tilted his head back, poured half of it down his throat, put the bottle down and turned to me.

"You ready for the monologue then?" His eyebrows rose.

"Nobody actually talks in monologues in real life," I replied. "Movies completely underestimate a human's need to interrupt and ask questions."

Another gorgeous smile. Making Noah smile was quickly becoming my new favourite pastime.

"Okay, I won't monologue."

"Good."

"I'm nervous."

I pushed him, playfully. "Just get on with it."

So he took a deep breath and he did.

"I guess you're wondering where my family is." He took another deep gulp of beer.

"I would be lying if I said I wasn't."

"Well, they don't live with me."

"Why?"

Noah spoke for a long time then. He told me they'd moved to Middletown two years ago. His dad owned a successful software business which had made millions multi-millions. His mother was a housewife. Both of them were very English, stiff-upper-lip types, very repressed.

Noah was their only child. Their everything.

"It's why I'm so full of it," he said, smiling wryly. "I was told I was amazing every day. It kind of rubs off after a while."

So Mr. Rich, Mrs. Rich and their prodigal son moved to Suburban Hell (i.e. Middletown) so Noah's dad could set up a new office. But within a couple of days, Noah got sick.

"I can't explain it very well. But I woke up one day and I couldn't get out of bed. Every emotion disappeared. I felt empty. Hollow. I wasn't even capable of feeling scared of what was happening to me. Mum came into my bedroom to wake me for school but I wouldn't move. I didn't talk to her. I couldn't."

I took his hand.

"They were good at first. They let me have a few days off and took me to the doctors. They paid for the very best and I got rushed through the system. I think they thought it was a minor blip, something they could fix swiftly, like a software hiccup. So when I didn't get better, they, um, didn't handle it very well."

I watched him relive the memory, his lip curled in disapproval. "It was depression, wasn't it?" I asked softly.

He turned to me. "How on earth do you know that?"

"Everyone knows."

He looked freaked out. "What? Everyone?"

I tried to calm him, stroking his hand. "Well, not everyone, but my journalist friend told me."

"Jesus, that girl knows everything."

"I don't think you should worry. It's not done your reputation any harm. In fact, it's just made you even more irresistible. Now you're, like, a project. Damaged, vulnerable, yadda yadda girls love it. Excellent pulling method. I assumed you'd spread it around yourself to get more female attention."

Thankfully he smiled. I wasn't sure I was saying the right thing, but I hoped I was doing okay. I got the sense I was being let in somewhere other girls hadn't been before.

"Yeah well, maybe I did tell a few girls to get attention."

I raised my eyebrows.

"It's wrong though. It's not anything to boast about. It takes over your life."

I squeezed his hand in encouragement. "What happened next?"

He started talking again and I began to feel sick. His parents hadn't been able to handle his moods, told him to pull himself together and to stop letting the family down.

"It's such a broken record really," Noah said. "The falling of the prodigal son. It was fine when I was on a high. I was charming, lively, the boy they loved again. But I got these huge bouts of depression and they couldn't cope with those at all.

"Eventually they decided they weren't going to 'indulge' me any more. That's actually the word they used. They bought me this flat, moved to London, and told me I needed to grow up and learn how to be on my own."

My thoughts went to my own mother. Her concerned face, her constant need for "chats" in the kitchen, and those cheques she couldn't quite afford made out to Dr. Ashley. I realized silently just how lucky I was.

"Is that legal?" I asked, not sure what else to say.

Noah shrugged. "I dunno. I'm over sixteen, so I guess so."

"Then what happened?" I asked, although I sensed what was coming next.

"Well, I went a little crazy. What else do you expect? I dropped out of college, had loads of parties and became the 'man-whore of Babylon', as you put it."

"Sorry."

"It's okay. It's true. I was...well...it was shameful. It's not an excuse but my confidence was screwed. I'd gone from being adored my whole life to being shut up in a top-floor flat, left alone. Girls had always liked me..."