Chapter 16

Noah walked away without a word. He didn't even spare me a second glance as he made his way through the crowd, dodging sweaty bodies with very less care. My heart sank, like I was watching a puppy die in a sad movie. A strange restlessness fell upon me, like the world was ending and I had to... I had to find Noah.

But, what would I say to him? I don't want you, but I want you to keep chasing me?

How cruel would that be? I couldn't do that to him, not after he'd been an absolute gem of a person to me all this while. I had been wrong about him. He was, in fact, like every YA Romance male lead, having layers upon layers hiding the wonderful and remarkable human being he was under his who-gives-a-fuck attitude. And I wanted to read his story. From cover to cover. I wanted to cherish the creases on the spine of the book; I wanted to highlight the parts that resonated with me the most. I wanted to marvel at the beauty of the author's words. I really, truly wanted Noah.

I had been staring into space all this while, brought to my senses when someone bumped into me, pouring some fruit drink all over my shirt. The gauzy material of my shirt immediately turned transparent and clung to me, a pink stain forming on the pristine white material. "Fuck you," I screamed at the drunk offender who barely even glanced at me before rushing away. Feeling a headache and a heartache coming up simultaneously, I itched to go home, bury myself in blankets and drink caramel coffee till this chest pain eased up. I moved away from the wall I had been leaning against, feeling my back spasm in pain from the impact it had made when Noah pushed me.

Eleanor and Sophie were at the bar, talking animatedly when I walked over. "I think I'm done for the night," I motioned to my ruined top, "I'll see you guys on Monday?"

Eleanor pouted but nodded, and Sophie kissed my cheek, "Text me when you reach home."

Brianna: Reached home. Nat says hi!

Brianna: Also, don't forget to use a condom

Eleanor: Noah left earlier, and I didn't even see who with :((((((

Eleanor: Detective mode on!

Daniel: No one, apparently. At least Alex saw him leave alone.

I threw my phone to the farthest end of the bed. The implications of what was about to happen tonight were swarming over my head, and I could not shake off the electricity Noah had left me buzzing with. My skin was still carrying his touch on me like a bloodstain on a white napkin. Incriminating evidence that I was inevitably tied to Noah, despite my weakest and strongest protests.

I tossed and turned all night, thinking about him, thinking about Eleanor. I checked my phone one last time around sunrise, hoping to see a response to the text I'd sent to Noah.

@briannabananas: I'm sorry. (4.36am)

Noah hadn't seen it.

Yet, I assured myself. When Noah would wake up in the morning, he would see it. And he would have a smart or a teasing response.

I sighed, squeezing my eyes shut. That was naïve of me. Noah thought I was only playing games with him. How could I tell him why I was hesitant to ask him to kiss me? How could I tell him why my loyalty to Eleanor was as strong, stronger than my attraction to him?

I kept thinking about us, pressed against the wall, the ghost of his lips following me well into Sunday evening. He still hadn't seen my message. In fact, he hadn't been seeing all the stories I had been posting either. I scrolled through all the 237 viewers three times to find @noahsterling hidden somewhere, but he was conspicuously absent.

His own profile was empty of any updates.

Maybe he'd lost his phone.

I sighed. All this wishful thinking was leading me nowhere. I had better focus on more important things, like the garlic in the pan that was slowly browning and heading towards burnt territory. I turned the flame down, giving it a stir and adding the pesto in it slowly, a sizzle sounding from the pan. The aroma of food brought in my little gremlins to the kitchen, plates in hand and spoons clanking on the table as they waited for me to serve the food.

I dumped the pasta on their plates, sighing when Nathan took a huge bite, immediately burning his tongue. He opened his mouth and fanned it, as if it would make a difference, gulping huge sips of coke to wash it down. River laughed, before proceeding to do the exact same thing, and now I had two immature roommates trying to taste the pasta I had so painstakingly made over their burnt tongues. The pesto wasn't even store bought; I had made it this morning, wanting to keep myself occupied so I would refrain from checking my texts every two seconds for a response that would never come.

I even cleaned up River's room while she was sleeping, glad to finally see the flooring visible under the mess. Her wardrobe was a Pandora's box I didn't want to open just yet.

This didn't stop them from incessantly chatting though, and I struggled to reign in my rage. It wasn't their fault I was on the end of my rope. Their chewing sounds were pushing me closer and closer to my breaking point so I just focused on my breathing instead. I drew a line, however, when they asked me to join them in watching Pretty Woman.

I could spend all that time working on the readings I had been ignoring. So I locked myself up in my room, ignoring the gorgeous voice of the classic movie playing in the living room. This large pile of garbage wasn't going to read itself out.

8.34pm.

I could study for two hours. There were some tests coming up and reading ahead never hurt anybody.

8.47pm.

I could study for one hour and make some flash cards for the upcoming test.

9.03pm.

I gave up. There was no point in trying to study when all I had been doing was staring at blank pages. I called Sophie for a pick-me-up but it went straight to voicemail and I didn't have the heart to talk to Eleanor. So I tossed and turned in bed all night, going over and over all the pictures on Noah's Instagram obsessively till I had memorized all the comments under each one of them. All 23 under the one he posted on March 11, 2015, the first one he'd ever posted.

His profile was a mess of images, nothing matched or made any sense, but it only went on to show how little he cared about social media. My feed, however, was following a theme at the moment, with pretty white borders and a general cafe-ish vibe to all the posts. The struggle for validation was real.

One picture really caught my attention among all this mess. The only person apart from the football team that made it to Noah's Instagram was Jennifer Paxton. She was in exactly one post, sitting on his lap,with red solo cups in their hands. The caption didn't say much, but it said enough. Once upon a time...

She was Noah's fairytale. She had beautiful blonde hair that rested over her rather impressive breasts, and she was tall and she had probably never seen a zit on her flawless skin. God, she was the type of rich that carried chihuahuas in their purse.

I stared at my own feed. Plain, boring, brown. About everything else except for me. Coffee cups, bricks, one odd mirror selfie with my head cropped away, books.

And somehow, by some miracle of this universe, Noah had wanted me. Me, with dull brown hair and sad brown eyes. Me with no curves and a chest that thirteen year olds could surpass. 

"Fuck!" I screamed into my pillow, a string of cuss words following out soon after. Perhaps it lasted a minute, but it made no difference to my crankiness. Wallowing in self pity was not the way to go about dealing with a heartbreak. And comparing myself to another person was also leading me nowhere. My thoughts were leading me down a dark path, and I ndded company before I spiralled.

Turning the lights of my room off, I walked into Nathan's room, finding him on his phone.

"Can't sleep?" He asked, seeing me wrapped in my blanket like a cape.

I shook my head, trudging to the bed and falling in, snuggling into his chest. Nathan was always there for me, and I was immediately comforted by his familiar frame wrapping around me. He dropped his phone on the small coffee table, and turned the lights off, humming an unfamiliar tune till I fell asleep.

***

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