Ravishment and Exasperation

Noah/Lindsay. What happened in the Playa that changed Noah's attitude? All he did when he was voted off was curse his teammates. Now he's alone... until Lindsay shows up and inadvertently makes him question everything he believes about himself.

Chapter 1: The Wonders of Words
Noah was trying to enjoy some well-deserved quiet time to advance in his reading when the pages were suddenly darkened by a shadow. Sighing, he turned around to see who it might be... and found himself staring incredulously at Lindsay.

The blonde girl looked just as surprised as he must look. “Oh my gosh! How did you know I was here?”

This helped Noah recover. Nothing like a good dose of stupidity to remind him where he was, and with whom.

“Gee, I don't know, maybe... your shadow?” he replied, rolling his eyes.

There. He had given her a sarcastic answer, which was too much for her poor brain to comprehend. Now he had only to read his book while she stormed off, muttering about what a jerk he was, just like everybody else on the stupid island always did.

But he forgot Lindsay was even more stupid than the other campers – if that was even possible – which meant she couldn't even detect sarcasm. Great.

As if she had heard his thoughts, Lindsay said, “Ohhh. Can you, like, see ghosts and stuff?”

“Sure. All the time. I see dead people.”

“Really? If you see my Granny, could you tell her I'm sorry I stole her pearl necklace?”

“Will do.”

“Thanks! You're really nice.”

“Oh yes, Nice is my middle name.”

Lindsay just kept smiling at him, obviously not understanding a word of what he'd just said. She then proceeded to do something nobody else had done before – she sat next to him. Not out of obligation or because it was the only spot left, but because she wanted to. The thought made Noah so uncomfortable he began to get paranoid. What did she want with him?

There could only be one logical explanation.

“You are aware, Lindsay, that I'm not Tyler?”

“Don't be silly. Taylor's with his team. You are Noah, you're on my team!”

Noah was so surprised she actually remembered his name instead of her boyfriend's, he nearly allowed himself to look at her in surprise. Nearly.

“You know my name. I feel honored.”

“Sure I do!” she exclaimed happily. Her smile faded and gave way to a look of confusion. “Why wouldn't I know your name?”

That was it. Noone was that stupid, not even Lindsay. She was definitely up to something, why else would she act like that around him, when everybody else hated his guts?

“Okay, Lindsay.” He closed his book without bothering to bookmark the page he'd been reading, and turned to face her. “What are you doing here?”

She considered him for a moment.

“Well, I just wanted to share my gorgeousness with the world and–”

“Not on the show,” Noah snapped, exasperated, “I mean here. With me.”

“Ohh. I'm hiding from Cindy. She wants me to do something mean to Harry. But don't tell her I said that! And if she comes here, tell her you didn't see me. Promise?”

Noah assumed she was talking about Courtney and Harold, but did not bother to correct her. Nor did he bother to tell her that if Courtney were to come, she would most certainly see Lindsay sitting right next to him. Instead, he just turned another page of his book and said, “Promise.”

“Thanks! You really are nice.”

He tightened his grasp on the book, biting his lip. He knew the girl was not exactly the brightest crayon in the box, but even she ought to have heard what everyone else said about him. Surely she knew that he was a nasty know-it-all, or whatever other creative words those non-imaginative former comrades of his were using to describe him.

Still, it wouldn't make any difference what he said to her. She was beyond stupidity, just like he was beyond intelligence. It was as if they spoke in two completely different languages.

While Lindsay stretched her legs on the grass and sighed, Noah's perpetual frown deepened as he tried to concentrate on his reading. It turned out this made him concentrate on Lindsay's body next to his, and even if he tried desperately not to look, his eyes couldn't help but following an invisible line in her direction every time he reached the end of a particularly distracting – or was it concentrating? – sentence.

He would read, '...combined elements of ravishment and exasperation. Ravishment — because of her pale, voluptuous, impermissible skin,' and his gaze would wonder inevitably to her legs, drawing their outline with his eyes, from her delicate ankles to her gracious knees and ending in her supple thighs, and there, he would swallow and read again; 'her hair, her legs, her angular movements, her gazelle-grass odor,' and it would be worse than torture, because she would move and her chest would go up and down in the rhythm of her breathing, and he would have to turn back to his reading before he went crazy; 'exasperation — because between him, an awkward schoolboy of genius, and that precocious, affected, impenetrable child there extended a void of light and a veil of shade that no force could overcome and pierce.' And then he had to wonder why on Earth this was affecting him so much, and why it was not her scent or her body that bothered him the most, but that last sentence that seemed almost like a prophecy: '...because between him, an awkward schoolboy of genius, and that precocious, affected, impenetrable child there extended a void of light and a veil of shade that no force could overcome and pierce.'

“What are you reading?”

He almost let out a yelp – had she been looking at him? Had she noticed? – but caught himself on time. He rearranged the features of his face as if it were a puzzle, and put on his usual frown.

“It's called a book.” He hoped she hadn't noticed the slight crack in his voice, or the way his eyes were unmoving and glued to the page.

“I know, silly,” she giggled, her laughter chiming like bells, “I mean what's it about.”

He was determined not to look at her. He had to push her away before she intoxicated him anymore.

“It's about a guy who wants to read in peace, without anyone coming to bother him with stupid questions or calling him a jerk because they don't agree with him.”

She said nothing. He thought maybe she had understood him this time, and he feared he had gone too far. Then he wondered why he feared he would hurt her feelings in the first place.

“Sounds like a very sad story,” she said at last.

Noah let out a breath he had not realized he had been holding.

“So, what happens next?” Lindsay asked, her voice dripping with concern. It was almost as if she truly cared about what happened to a fictional character who wasn't even fictional.

“A girl comes to annoy the hell out of the guy. She doesn't let him read with her constant yapping.”

“Ohh. You wanna know what I think?”

No, he thought firmly. Just go away. Leave me alone.

“Not particularly, no.”

“I think the girl is being really kind to the boy, because she's being his friend.”

That took him by surprise.

“His friend?” he was careful to sound sarcastic and unaffected, and not at all hopeful.

She nodded, smiling. “Yes. Because she saw he was lonely, so she went to keep him company.”

Noah opened his mouth to reply, but for the first time in his life he found he had no words. Maybe it was that perfume of hers, and the way it was tickling his nostrils and clouding his mind.

“Lindsay!” someone said. They both jumped in surprise when they saw Courtney coming, her strides wide and angry. “There you are!”

“She saw me!” Lindsay whispered.

Courtney planted herself in front of them, barely aknowledging Noah's presence, and instead focusing on Lindsay.

“Where have you been?” she growled. “You know you have to help me get back at Harold!”

“I wasn't aware slavery still existed in Canada,” Noah commented as casually as he could, even though he could barely hold back his fury. Sure, Lindsay was stupid and easy to manipulate, but that didn't give anyone the right to take advantage of those weaknesses. If anything, they should help her. But of course, he should have known better than to expect anything even remotely resembling kindness from these idiots.

Courtney ignored him. “Lindsay, we have work to do!”

Lindsay hesitated, mumbling and taking her hand near her mouth. Noah closed the book loudly.

“Sorry, Courtney, but she's busy.”

Courtney turned her fierce black eyes to him, and Noah suddenly understood why she was even more intimidating than Heather, and why Lindsay hadn't told her off. He also understood why she was Duncan's girlfriend.

“Oh, really?” she asked, crossing her arms. “Doing what?”

“I'm giving her Literature lessons.” He put his hand over Lindsay's mouth quickly, out of fear she would get excited and ask him when they were going to start. “She failed Literature, and she's hoping to pass it when she goes back to school.” He waited for Courtney to leave, very much aware of the fact that he was sweating under her and Lindsay's gaze. “Last time I checked, Harold did not bully himself, you know.”

Courtney didn't look like she bought a single word of what he'd just said, but to Noah's immense relief, she left. After she was out of sight, Noah took his hand off of Lindsay's plump lips, feeling suddenly ashamed. He thought he could feel the shape of her mouth burning itself into his palm, branding him forever.

You're being absurd, Noah, he told himself. Stop reading Shakespeare and Nabokov! It's gotten into your head.

“Sorry about that,” he said uncomfortably.

“Why? You saved me!” Lindsay exclaimed happily. “My hero!”

Then, before Noah could even see it coming, she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tightly. Noah felt every part of his body that was in contact with hers grow hot, and even his breath seemed to stop in his lungs. Her fragrance was poisoning him now; he could practically taste it. It was flowery, and sweet, and it seemed to adhere itself to his skin.

He pulled her away as soon as he regained his senses. He had to keep his distance before he went mad again.

“Did I... Did I do something wrong?” Lindsay asked him, her eyes big and watery.

He couldn't look at her, he knew she was hurt. This time, the idea that he had hurt someone without even opening his mouth made him feel bitter, and guilty, and angry.

“No, Lindsay. I just don't like...” People? You, making me uncomfortable? “...hugs.”

“But why?” she insisted. “Everyone loves hugs.”

There it was – everyone. He was not like everyone, and everyone loved to remind him of it, didn't they?

“Well I'm not everyone, in case you haven't noticed!” he snapped. “I'm the weird kid that nobody likes, so no, I don't like hugs, or parties, or whatever other insipid pastimes you might have. Now excuse me while I go and do some unnormal things you probably think make me a freak.”

With that, he left.