While Noah and I have always done things as friends, I still worry that someone will see us while we’re out and put two and two together, which will no doubt get back to my brother, and then all hell will break loose.
It wouldn’t be so bad if this were a real relationship, but it’s not. No, this is nothing but a twisted, fucked up game for the both of us.
Or… that’s what it’s meant to be.
“So, how are your classes going?” Noah asks once we’ve agreed on a movie, not that we’ll really be watching it, since Noah prefers to talk during it if I’m not busy with schoolwork or focusing on my art. Whenever I am doing those things, he’s content to just sit there in companionable silence.
I thought that was thoughtful of him, but now that I know the truth, I have to wonder whether that was just another way to… what? I don’t know, get under my skin? Show that he can be caring when he wants to be? Who the hell knows what goes on in that mind of his.
I don’t mind when he talks usually, but right now I’m finding it hard to not go off on him. I underestimated just how hard it would be to keep myself in check when I decided to fuck with him in the way he is with me.
I shrug. “They’re fine, I guess.”
He narrows his eyes on me. “You know, it’s not too late to change your major,” he says softly, and I swallow the lump that’s forming in my throat.
No one has ever pressed me on this as much as Noah, and while most would probably hate that, I find a part myself kind of liking it, thankful for him for how highly he regards my happiness.
And isn’t that fucked up.
He knows how much I hate my degree, and the more he presses about it, the more I find myself wondering if maybe I actuallycoulddo something about it instead of suffering in silence.
“I’m thinking about it,” I admit, and his eyes widen, as though he thought he’d have to push the topic further to get through to me.
“You are?”
I nod slowly before taking a bite of my food, not really wanting to talk about it. It would be hard enough to talk about it in the first place, and right now I honestly don’t have the energy to try and act normal around him.
It's been a hard week as it is, with having so many assignments that need completing and adding this whole fiasco on top of that? I’m ready to cry myself to sleep for a week.
Ugh, why did I think this was a good idea?
I don’t know whether I’m coming or going anymore, my head saying one thing and my heart saying another. Why does he have to be so damn perfect? This would be so much easier if he was an asshole.
And while he’s definitely done some assholeish things, he’s not a bad person. Sort of.
He’s kind, and thoughtful, and if it wasn’t for the whole anonymous stalking thing, he would have been perfect for me.
But I can’t just let him get away with what he did.
I can’t.
What type of person would I be to just let him walk all over me like that?
“I’m so proud of you, Gracie.”
Fuck.
I smile, trying to stop my lips from trembling while blinking back tears.
Would it really be so bad to forgive him?
Would it really be so hard to let go of it?
I’m not sure.
It’s not something I could ever forget, but is it something I could get over eventually?
THIRTY-SIX
