Chapter 4
CHAPTER
FOUR
AFTER
I sped away from that gym as fast as I could without running. I had never missed a practice before. Never. Not when I had a fever in tenth grade. I still showed up, even though the coach kicked me out. Not when my dog died, and my mom was so heartbroken I had to get on a plane right after practice to get to her. Not when Noah?—
I stopped myself. I was done thinking about him. I was done with him.
“Atty, stop,” he called again.
My heart was pounding louder with every step. “Leave me alone,” I shouted.
“Atty, come on, just give me a minute,” he pleaded, his voice closer now, tinged with desperation.
“No,” I yelled, my throat tightening.
“Just talk to me for one second, I swear,” he insisted.
I turned to look at him, fury bubbling up inside me. “Why? Why do you want a second now? You didn’t bother with a second before. You just left, Noah. I don’t want to talk to you. You don’t get any more seconds. Not from me,” I spat out, barely able to look at him.
But I did.
Of course I fucking did.
He looked so much better. That was what my stupid head supplied me with. He was still lean, but he seemed healthy, and that made me a little happy, even if I still hated him. His green eyes locked with mine and it was like a million memories came flooding back with enough force to knock the wind out of me. Sitting with Noah on his couch, the sound of his laughter, the solid weight of his body over mine, his voice when he sang, the way he rolled his eyes with fondness, his face when he slept, the lingering notes of sandalwood he left over my skin, the taste of his lips. One by one, memories flashed fast without filter, causing my heart to splinter over and over again.
“Atty,” he tried, his voice softer, almost breaking. “I’m sorry.”
I shook my head and left as fast as I could.
“Stop calling me that,” I muttered to myself before breaking into a run. I couldn’t go through this again. I couldn’t reopen this. I barely got out of it the first time.