Chapter 11

Ishouldn't have let myself become so at ease with him. I know better than that. I know better than to let my guard down. Thinking about my dad reminded me that men cheat, lie, and manipulate, and once they get what they want, they move on. I found out about Jace and Amy over a year ago now, but the lessons I learned from them remain strong: Don't be vulnerable. Don't let anyone in. Then, you can't get hurt.

Especially someone like Noah. Guys like him may seem sweet, and they may act like they really care, but deep down, they all only want one thing, and that one thing is something I already gave away. I gave it to Noah so freely. He probably thinks I'm the easiest girl in the world. And now that I've slept with him once, he'll expect me to keep doing it. When he realizes I won't, he'll leave me, but by then, my heart will already be his. I won't let that happen. I can't.

I want the image of Noah in my head to remain pure—something to smile about when I look back on it. Last night was shocking and unnerving, sure. But I'm also fond of the memory, like it exists separate from me. It feels like a different person lived it—someone who is brave and open and accepting. That woman was adventurous and beautiful. That's not me. And Noah isn't sweet.

But the way he looked at me...it makes my chest hurt and I feel like I can't breathe.

Intimacy seems to be best when the man leaves the next morning and I never have to see him again. He can't want anything from me that way and I from him. The care and attention he's giving me now isn't real. It's just leftover desire from last night. It will fade—just like it always does.

The image of him brushing my hair out of my face and asking if it was okay to touch me hits hard. I remember wanting it, wanting him. So badly, that when he started to leave for the pull-out couch after the deed was done, I pulled him right back and kept him there. He was so intoxicatingly gentle that it physically hurt. It hurts to admit it, but I know that wasn't him—not really. That was a version of him, controlled by cheap vodka and raging desire. The actual Noah wouldn't treat me like that. I know it. I know him. He's a man, and men are very simple. They exist to screw, and they don't like it when they're denied. My mothers voice rings in my ears and I curse her for making me think like this. I curse her again for being right.

I won't be a pretty young thing for Noah to subdue. He's not getting me. I won't be like the line of wives my dad has wed then broken their hearts. I want to be more.

I look around the room. All I can see are reminders of the night before. Noah's shirt just barely sticking out from beneath the bed. The ruffled pillowcases. The dirty towel discarded to the floor. Last night, it all seemed so romantic. Now, it feels like a set from a crappy teen movie. That's what I get, I suppose, for acting like a teenager.

I can't stand to be here anymore, in the room where it all happened. I decide to take advantage of being stranded in a new city by going out and exploring. Maybe I can find some interesting shops or restaurants. The city seemed nice enough on the drive from the airport, anyway. At the very least, I'll get some walking in.

I have every intention of trying to sneak past Noah and get out without so much as another word exchanged, but when I catch sight of him, I know I've got no shot.

Sitting in one of the armchairs, he frowns at his horizontal phone, furiously tapping at it. I watch him for several moments before he realizes I'm there and looks up like a deer in headlights.

"Oh." He smiles sheepishly, holding up his phone to show me a game he's playing on it. "Sorry, I can't beat this level, and it's really annoying 'cause my sister beat it last week, and—" He stops, scratching the back of his neck and cracking a smile. "You don't care. Sorry."

Men, I think with a barely suppressed eye roll. His excitable energy makes me want to smile but I resist.

"I'm going out for a bit," I announce. "I'll probably be back in a few hours."

Interested, he sits up straighter and sets his phone aside. "Where're you going?"

I blink at him, halfway convinced that I should just leave but he's looking at me like a freaking puppy. I don't have the heart to be a dick to him right now. I know deep down that he doesn't realize why I've checked out, that he can't possibly know how guarded I am, how guarded I have to be.

"I'm gonna go explore the city."

He looks as if he's about to ask to tag along, so I quickly add on, "Alone."

His face falls for a brief moment, and then he gives me a smile that doesn't reach his eyes and nods. "Oh, okay. That's cool, 'cause I really gotta beat this level anyway. My sisters will never let me hear the end of it otherwise, so…"He averts his gaze from me and stares sadly down at his phone.

I can't help it; I feel guilty.

This is why I didn't want to talk to him.

I sigh heavily and stare at him for a moment, perfectly aware of what I have to do but really not wanting to do it. I tell myself that it's the right thing, that I'm allowed to be kind and be a friend—or, at the very least, a pleasant acquaintance.

I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth and place my hands on my hips. "Do you want to come?" I ask dryly. His face lights up as if I just told him he won a trip to Disney World.

"Yeah, totally!" He jumps to his feet, grinning ear-to-ear. He shoves his phone and wallet in his pocket and happily trails after me as I start toward the door. He's pointedly ignoring my foul mood, and I don't know whether that makes me feel better or worse.

As we make our way down to the lobby, I bite my tongue to keep from snapping at him. He will not stop talking. He's not even rambling on about anything of importance. He's just chattering about dumb stuff, like the inflation of the price of Legos, and how he thinks apples are better than oranges. Surprisingly I find myself nodding along as he describes the difference between apple species inanimated detail, his enthusiasm proving irresistibly contagious.

I just can't bring myself to tell him to shut the hell up. I'm listening intently and taking in every little word, storing it all away for later. Some of it, despite my best effort, can't be interpreted as anything but undeniably sweet. He points out the tattoo he got for his mom, for God's sake. What am I supposed to do with that besides melt.

Noah sticks to my side like a shadow through the lobby, all the way out to the sidewalk, and he doesn't stray more than a couple of feet as we head out into the city.

"Do you remember that one day in class we actually got along?" he asks me as we turn down a street filled with shops and restaurants. I'm beginning to consider getting rid of him somehow. I haven't said a word to him since we left the hotel room, but he's holding strong on his mission to get a reaction out of me. It's driving me insane. I don't think I can stand another minute of it. "You remember?" he repeats. "Molly Jenkins was going on and on about how classic literature is damaging to all women, and you stood up and said?—"

"I said she should take her crap opinion and stick it where the sun doesn't shine." I smile at the memory. It's been a while since I thought about that day. I'd sort of forgotten about it. "Professor Bleu kicked me out of the class, and I was just sitting there in the hallway because my roommate was still in Econ." I look over at him, and our eyes meet. "You followed me out."

"Yeah...I didn't follow you out, Lucy," Noah reveals with a small grin. "I was kicked out too, for calling Molly a threat to human intelligence. You just happened to still be there when I left, and I invited you to get lunch with me."

I hum softly, staring down at my feet as I think about how much I had laughed with Noah that day. Of course, it didn't last. The next time I saw him, it was back to the same old arguments. But for those two hours sitting in the campus coffee shop, it had almost seemed like maybe we could be friends.

"Lucy, I think we need to talk about last night," Noah starts. My breath catches in my throat. This is exactly what I've been dreading.

I glance over at him and wave my hand in the air, dismissing his attempt to start the discussion. "No, we don't. It was nice, but it was a mistake, and it's not going to happen again. That's that. There's nothing else to talk about."

Noah frowns. If I didn't know better, I might feel bad, I might consider letting him convince me that it wasn't a mistake, that actually we could make this work out. I can't even let him try.

In a perfect world, maybe things would be different. Maybe I would have the luxury of believing him. But this isn't a perfect world and I know that I have to do what I have to do.

"Right, yeah," he says, clearing his throat "Uh, that's what I was gonna say anyway. So, that's great. We're on the same page."

He scratches the growing stubble on his chin, he looks exhausted, and I feel exhausted.

I'm starting to think that maybe this whole trip is doomed. Getting stuck with Noah wasn't fate. It was more like a cosmic punishment that will not end.

I hate this.