I should’ve told her that she was my shining star, my past, present, and future. I should’ve groveled, begged, cried if needed, all so that she would look at me with the same adoration and love once again.
But as I stood here in the empty parking lot, waiting to see when she would emerge from the school, I knew that all those were just a lot of should-haves and none of them mattered when I never told them to her, and kept them to myself.
I’d spent years hoping that maybe, just maybe, she would be able to see through me and my act, because I didn’t know how to tell her how I felt. I could say all these things a million times in my head, but words often failed me. Instead of just telling her that seeing her with that guy felt as if somebody pierced my heart with an arrow, I uttered the foulest words, putting that look of sadness and desperation on her face.
I couldn’t remember my life before her, but I knew that the last three months felt like an eternity without her next to me.
Every single one of my good memories was somehow connected to her. I could lie to myself. I could lie to the entire world, but the truth always laid in the depths of my heart that always beat only for her and nobody else.
I just hoped I wasn’t too late.
She managed to avoid me today, just like she did every single other day since we stopped talking, since I stopped responding to her texts, her calls and knocking on the door. And every single time her name appeared on the screen of my phone, my lungs seized, my throat closed, and the pain I had never felt before started spreading somewhere from the center of my chest, through my veins, all the way to the tips of my fingers, like poison.
I looked up at the sky, the gray color decorated with white clouds resembling the sky from that day when I fucked us up. Beginning of March always felt more like winter than the near beginning of spring, and I buried my hands deeper into my pockets, trying to warm myself up.
The front door of our school suddenly flew open, the first students slowly trickling out with the cacophony of voices gradually filling the parking lot. But not a single one of them was her.
I was starting to lose hope, the dread dropping into my stomach, when her familiar blonde hair finally appeared on the steps, her eyes looking more tired than they did this morning.
Despite the cold, despite the violent air slamming into me from left and right, I felt warm, heated up, my blood singing, recognizing her for what she was.
Mine.
She was always mine, from that first moment when we were just kids, and I was an idiot for waiting this long to try and claim her. I should’ve done it years ago. I should’ve taken what always belonged to me.
She marked me on that first day, and I wasn’t the same ever since. She stole my heart. She stole my memories, and no matter what, I would never want them back. If I had anything to say, she would never belong to anybody else.
I didn’t care how many years it took, but Sophie Anderson would one day be Sophie Kincaid—my wife, my light, and my life.
She lifted her head at the same time as I strode toward her. Pinching her eyebrows together, a less-than-pleasant look passed over her face. “What do you want, Noah?”
“I told you already,” I answered, trying to calm my racing heart. “To talk. To explain.”
“Yeah,” she murmured, lifting the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder. “And I told you as well—I am not interested.”
I fucking hated myself for putting that look on her face—indifference. I hated that the smile and shining eyes were not directed at me anymore, that a whole world of pain reflected in her eyes. I fucking hated that she just passed next to me, heading toward the parking lot, without turning to look back at me.
Once upon a time, she told me I was a stubborn bastard who would do everything to get the things he wanted, and she was right. Only difference was—this time, it was her.
I ran after her, falling into step right next to her, earning another scowl from her.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Following you, of course.” I grinned. “I figured since you don’t wanna talk to me, I’ll follow you.”
“Noah, please. I don’t wanna talk to you. I don’t wanna see you, and I definitely don’t want to hear all the excuses I am sure you have already prepared so that I would talk to you again. Hell, maybe I would talk to you. Maybe we could be acquaintances, if nothing else, but we could never be friends again.”
Her words hurt. They felt like a sledgehammer to my chest, but I didn’t want to show it to her. I couldn’t lose my cool this time. I knew I would have to be patient.
“Why not?”
“Are you fucking serious right now?” She raised her voice, suddenly stopping.
I whirled around, looking at her. “Dead serious, Soph.”
“Well, where would you like me to start, Noah? Huh? Maybe I should start with the fact that for the past two years, I felt as if I was the only one trying to keep this friendship alive. Or maybe I should fucking start with that night at the carnival when you called me an attention-seeking whore?”
“I never said that,” I gritted out.
