The Boy Next Door

Chapter 4: Paper Beats and Midnight Lines

"Idealism versus reality," Lily said, placing her pen down beside her notebook before looking up to meet Noah’s unblinking stare. "The core theme of The Great Gatsby is how people project an illusion onto someone else, only to crash when reality doesn't match the dream."

Noah tilted his head, a slow, lazy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Spoken like a true cynic. Let me guess—you think Jay Gatsby was just a delusional guy who couldn't accept that the past was dead?"

"I think he built an entire identity around a version of a girl that didn't actually exist," Lily countered, leaning forward slightly despite herself. "He was in love with a memory, not the person in front of him."

Noah let out a quiet, hummed laugh, tapping his thumb rhythmically against the top of the wooden chair. "Maybe. Or maybe he just knew what he wanted and wasn't afraid to burn down his whole world trying to get it back." He paused, his dark eyes sharpening as they held hers. "What about you, Morgan? You seem pretty set on keeping your world locked tight."

Lily felt a sudden warmth creep up her neck. Before she could craft a witty response, the high-pitched chime of the dismissal bell echoed down the hallway, breaking the spell between them.

Students immediately began packing up bags and sliding chairs across the linoleum floor. Across the room, Chloe stood up instantly, casting one last icy side-eye toward their table before flouncing out the door with her group.

Noah uncurled himself from his chair, sliding his hands back into his jeans pockets. "Look at that, saved by the bell. But since Henderson expects our outline on his desk by Friday, we're going to have to work on this outside of class."

"I can set up a shared Google Doc—" Lily began.

"Or," Noah interrupted, stepping past her and turning backward to walk toward the exit, "you can just open your window tonight instead of attacking mine with school supplies. Eight o'clock, Morgan. Don't be late."

With a quick, lazy salute, he slipped into the crowded hallway and vanished into the sea of students.

By ten o'clock that evening, the Morgan house had settled into silence. Downstairs, her mother had already turned off the living room lights, exhausted from another long shift. Upstairs, Lily sat cross-legged on her bed, her copy of The Great Gatsby open on her lap, a highlighters scattered across her duvet.

She stared at the clock on her nightstand: 10:14 PM.

She shook her head, letting out a soft sigh. Of course he forgot. Or he was just mocking me.

She slid off the bed to close her blinds and turn off her desk lamp. But just as her hands touched the wooden frame of her window, a faint, rhythmic sound tapped against the glass pane.

Tap. Tap.

Lily froze. She pulled the blinds up.

Noah was sitting on his window ledge across the ten-foot gap, his knees pulled up slightly, holding a small stack of flat pebble-like stones in one hand. His dark hair was damp, sticking slightly to his forehead as if he'd just stepped out of the shower, and he wore a soft gray hoodie with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

When he saw her, he tossed the remaining pebble up and caught it deftly in his palm. He reached over, sliding his window all the way up.

"You're late," Lily whispered across the cool night air, leaning her arms against her sill.

"I had stuff to take care of," Noah said quietly. The lazy, teasing tone he used at school was gone, replaced by a lower, calmer voice that seemed tailored specifically for the quiet of the night. "Besides, I knew you'd still be up."

"You don't know anything about me," she replied, though there was no real bite to her voice.

"I know you have three different colored highlighters sticking out of your book right now," he noted, gesturing vaguely toward her desk. He reached behind him, pulling a worn spiral notebook into his lap. "Alright, let's talk about Gatsby's green light. You think it represents delusion. I think it represents hope."

Lily blinked, surprised. "You actually read the chapter?"

Noah smirked, though it was softer this time. "I can read, Morgan. Shocking, I know."

For the next hour, the ten feet of dark air between their second-story windows completely evaporated. They debated character motives, dissected quotes, and shared ideas in hushed tones so as not to wake their families. Without the noise of high school, the rumors, or Chloe’s glare, Noah wasn't the scary "bad boy" Ava had warned her about. He was sharp, observant, and possessed a quiet intensity that made Lily forget to guard her words

"Why guitar?" Lily asked suddenly during a pause in their discussion, resting her chin on her crossed forearms atop the sill.

Noah paused, his pen hovering over his notebook. He looked out over the space between their houses, watching a light breeze rustle the tree branches below.

"When everything else is loud," Noah said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, "music is the only thing I can control. It lets me drown out what I don't want to hear."

Lily’s heart gave a gentle, aching thud. She recognized that feeling—the desperate need to drown out noise, pain, and memories you couldn't fix.

Before she could ask what he was trying to drown out, the sound of a raised, sharp voice echoed faintly from inside Noah's house downstairs, followed by the muffled slam of a door.

Noah’s posture instantly stiffened. The soft, open expression vanished from his face, locked away behind a familiar, distant mask.

"We've got enough for the outline," Noah said quickly, pulling his legs back inside his room and reaching for his window frame. "Get some sleep, Lily."

"Noah, wait—"

"Goodnight, neighbor," he said softly, and slid the glass closed, pulling his dark blinds down until there was nothing left to see.

Lily stood at her window in the quiet night, staring at the blank dark space across from her, feeling a strange new tightness in her chest. Ava was wrong. Noah Carter wasn't ruthless.

He was hurting. And somehow, that made him far more dangerous to her heart.