Dirty Pretty Words

CHAPTER 11

ELLE’S POV

The piano classroom was dead silent except for the nervous tap-tap-tap of my fingers against my thigh.

Where was he? I checked my watch for the fifth time in three minutes. Noah was officially seven minutes late to our first lesson. Maybe he had decided I wasn't worth teaching after all.

"Get it together, Elle," I muttered to myself, sliding onto the piano bench. "It's just a lesson, not a date."

I had told myself severally that Noah and I are nothing. I ran my fingers over the keys without pressing down, tracing the cool ivory like I was memorizing a map. The afternoon sun slanted through the tall windows, casting golden rectangles across the polished floor. It was peaceful here. Safe. Until the door banged open.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is."

My stomach dropped. That voice belonged to the last person I wanted to see.

Benita Martinez stood in the doorway, her perfect red lips curved in a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She stepped into the room with the confident swagger of someone who believed they owned every space they entered.

"Waiting for someone?" she asked, leaning against the piano. Her French manicure tapped a threatening rhythm on the glossy surface.

I straightened my spine. "That's none of your business."

"Actually, when it involves Noah, it is very much my business."

"Last I checked, you two broke up." The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

Benita's smile tightened. "Temporary situation. Which brings me to why I'm here." She leaned in closer, her designer perfume overwhelming. "What exactly did you say to him?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb, Willsmith. One minute Noah's judging that pathetic little competition, and the next he's suddenly your personal piano teacher?" She laughed, the sound like breaking glass. "What did you do? Blackmail him? Cry your sad little orphan story?"

My cheeks burned. "I didn't do anything."

"Nobody goes from nothing to something with Noah unless they've got an angle." Her eyes narrowed. "What's yours?"

"Maybe he just wants to help me."

Benita threw her head back and laughed. "Noah doesn't help people out of the goodness of his heart. Trust me, I know him better than anyone."

"Do you?" I challenged, courage building from somewhere deep inside me. "Because if you did, maybe you wouldn't be his ex."

Her face transformed instantly, beauty twisting into something ugly. "You little—"

"That's enough, Benita."

We both whipped around to see Noah standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. His expression was thunderous. I hadn't even heard the door open.

Benita recovered quickly, her face softening. "Noah! I was just having a little chat with your... student." The way she said "student" made it sound like a dirty word.

"It didn't sound like chatting to me." His voice was cold in a way I'd never heard before. "It sounded like harassment."

"Please." Benita rolled her eyes. "We were just getting to know each other better. Girl talk."

Noah stepped fully into the room. "Leave."

The single word hung in the air between them. For a moment, Benita looked genuinely shocked.

"You can't be serious," she said. "You're kicking me out for her?"

"I'm not asking again."

Something passed between them, some unspoken history I couldn't decipher. Finally, Benita grabbed her bag from where she'd dropped it.

"This isn't over," she hissed as she brushed past me. Then, to Noah: "Call me when you're done with your charity case."

The door slammed behind her, the sound echoing through the classroom.

Noah sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry about that."

"Is she always so..." I searched for the right word.

"Intense?" Noah offered. "Jealous? Territorial?"

"I was going to say 'psychotic,' but those work too."

He surprised me with a laugh, the tension in the room dissipating slightly. He dropped his backpack on a chair and came to sit beside me on the piano bench. Not too close, but close enough that I could smell his cologne.

"Why did you two break up?"

Noah's jaw tightened. "That's none of your business."

The words stung more than they should have. I turned away, focusing on the piano keys. "Right. Sorry I asked."