Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
“Noah?” Harrison steps in front of me menacingly. “Your ex, Noah?”
“Yes,” I say slowly. Noah’s eyes flick between us. He’s trying to place Harrison, probably wondering where he recognizes him from.
Why is he here? Why now? Why is the universe so hellbent on letting this guy ruin every single good thing in my life?
He looks the same as when I last saw him months ago. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. That disgustingly smug smile. He’s a little shorter than Harrison but still has that ex-football player build. He’s even wearing his L.A. Rams jacket like a walking cliché.
“Can we talk?” he asks.
“What are you even doing here?”
“I can explain everything,” he says, gesturing toward my door. “In private, of course.”
“Julia…” Harrison warns, stepping closer.
I huff, throwing my head back. I was this close to getting laid. A few feet away from my bed. And now, I’m inches away from my next life crisis. This has got to be a joke.
“You know what? Fine. Let’s talk.” I snap. There’s no use trying to delay the inevitable. Noah isn’t the type to leave unless he’s gotten his way.
Harrison stiffens beside me. He grips my arm gently and turns me to face him.
“You don’t have to talk to him,” he says, jaw tight. “You don’t owe him anything.”
“I can still hear you,” Noah yells from the doorway. I watch as Harrison’s eyes travel behind me, cold and hard. That dark shade of blue that I’ve seen often when I’m driving him crazy. Except now, for all the wrong reasons. “Let the girl make her own choices.”
If I don’t separate them fast, they’re going to turn the hallway into a UFC match.
“I owe it to myself,” I whisper. “It’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry. I’ll call after. Once it’s sorted.”
He nods, but he’s not happy. He’s begging me silently not to go. And I hate that I’m doing it.
But somewhere inside, I know this might be exactly what I need to do to finally let go. If that means having to listen to Noah one last time, then it’s worth it.
I walk to my door and unlock it.
“Inside.”
Noah doesn’t move.
“What? Does he need a goodbye kiss?” he mocks.
Rage rises fast. My heart starts beating so hard, I feel like it’s going to burst through my chest. My muscles tense up, and I involuntarily close my hands up into fists.
If this is a fight-or-flight moment, I’m ready to get in the ring.
I’m not a violent person, but I can’t be held accountable for whatever happens behind closed doors.
“Now,” I spit. He rolls his eyes and drags himself inside.
I look back at Harrison, still rooted to the spot.
My heart clenches. I wish I could run to him and leave this past version of myself behind. But I can’t. Not yet. If I don’t say the things I’ve buried, they’ll never stop echoing.
“I’m sorry,” I mouth, before closing the door behind me.
Noah’s already made himself comfortable. His shoes are off. He’s lounging on my couch like he did back in the dorms. I stare at him in silence, sorting through my feelings. All I can find is anger, disgust, and the best one yet, empowerment.
“Sure, feel free to act like this is your place too,” I say.
He doesn’t take any offense. He doesn’t move an inch.
“This isn’t going to be productive if we start off so aggressive,” he states, like he’s some enlightened therapist.
“How?” I ask, stripping off my wet jacket. “How in the world did you find me? How did you even get in the building?”
“I was out last week, and I ran into Jackson.”
Of course. Jackson from HR, who still thinks Noah is charming because he worked the room flawlessly at Christmas dinner two years ago. Jackson knows everything about my move.
“I told him I’d be in London for a few days, and I wanted to surprise you.”
And he didn’t know any better because he assumed Noah and I are still a thing.
I stay on the other side of the coffee table. The more distance between us, the better.
“The rest was just a waiting game,” Noah continues. “Eventually one of your neighbors let me in. I had the day off, so I thought I would drop by.”
He says it like it’s completely normal behavior.
“Now you’re stalking me?”
“Come on, Jay. Don’t be like that,” he answers in a diminishing tone.
He waves a hand in the air like he’s brushing away a fly.
“This tough-cookie attitude is not you. It doesn’t suit you.”
“Oh, you mean standing up for myself doesn’t suit me?”
He shrugs.
“I thought it’d be nice. A surprise. We haven’t seen each other in so long!”
“Why?” I snap. “Why would you ever think this was going to be a nice surprise?”
He makes a move to stand, and I immediately shoot out my arm.
“You’re fine right where you are.”
“I just thought you’d appreciate seeing a familiar face,” he says. “Honestly, I assumed you’d be alone. I don’t know what you see in that poster boy. He looks like a dollar-store version of that actor that Emma likes.”
I roll my eyes.
Classic Noah, in his true habitat. Completely obnoxious and the biggest asshole I have ever met. How I was ever blind to him is beyond me.
“I think you need to watch your words,” I say, voice low. “I invited you in because you said you wanted to talk. So talk. Say something of value—if that’s even possible for you. Because for the life of me, I can’t fathom why you thought I’d want to see you after everything that happened.”
“See? You’re overreacting again. This is why everything ended the way it did. I always thought we had an open relationship. I don’t consider what I did as cheating, like you said.”
I take a deep breath. One more stupid comment and I will punch him in the face.
“Let me be very clear,” I say, my tone flat.
“Because when we had this conversation before, you never listened to anything I had to say. We dated for years, Noah. We were living together. Talking about our futures. That’s not an open relationship—unless you explicitly say it is. There was nothing open about us.”
He tries to interrupt, but I shush him up.
“You brought your other girlfriend—or whatever the hell she was to you—into my bed. My bed. If you want to try and make yourself believe that what you did is okay, fine. Go ahead. But I know the kind of person you are. And now? So does everyone else that knows anything about us.”
“I don’t think it was that big of a deal,” he says. “I did apologize afterward too. Plus, we were young when we first got together. And in college, I might add. Does that even count as serious dating?”
I’m not sure what’s worse—he truly believes that a weak apology is enough to erase everything he put me through… or that I let him treat me like garbage for that long.
I’m so aggravated. I want to scream until everything rattles. Instead, I take the high road. I’ve earned it.
“You don’t think spending every day together is dating? Introducing me as your girl isn’t dating? Sharing the same friends?”
“I mean, you were my favorite one of the girls, if that means anything.”
“Of course. How naive of me to think that you only cheated once. Was I the only one that didn’t know you were sleeping around?”
“Nobody knew,” he says. “Believe it or not, I don’t go around talking about my sexual encounters. If anybody noticed, they didn’t say anything to me.”
“And you don’t think the fact that you couldn’t tell your friends is a major red flag?”
He shrugs.
“Do you think they would have approved had they known?”
“They’re your friends too, so… probably not.”
“Oh, but I thought it was an open relationship?”
“For me it was.” He says it like it’s reasonable. “There were only two other girls. I’m sorry I haven’t told you about them before. I didn’t even remember.”
He lies with the same casual tone that once made me doubt myself.
“I never wanted to hurt you. That was never my intention. You’re going to be back in the States soon, and seeing you again… it has brought up some old feelings.”
I flinch at that. Not because I believe him.
Because he’s right. My life is still in L.A. Emma. My family. My job. I don’t want to think about what it’ll feel like to leave Harrison behind.
“Maybe you didn’t mean to, but you did.”
“We could try again. Once you’re back. Start over.” He leans in like he’s being genuine. “Now that you’re aware, maybe you’ll enjoy being in an open relationship. I think our chemistry is worth it.”
“The chemistry?” I repeat, stunned. “The fact that you think that I’d want to share my man around just shows how little you know me.”
“It’s not that bad once you give it a try.”
My blood boils.
“You were my everything, Noah.” My voice cracks, but I push through.
“I used to hang onto your every word. Every decision I made, I made with you in mind. What you wanted. What you needed. It was never reciprocated. For the longest time I felt like you’d been using me.
But now I realize that you’re not that smart. You’re just a selfish asshole.”
“Ouch,” he laughs, faking being hurt.
“I should’ve left you after you messed with the competition entry,” I spit, more to myself than him. “That should have been the last straw.”
“Seriously? You’re still salty about that? I only did it to protect you. I know more about photography than you.”
“Yes, really. Just because your dad owns a gallery doesn’t make you an expert. I know that now. But back then I let you tear me down so much, I actually thought you were doing me a favor. I put my camera away for good because of you. Truth is you were just trying to shrink me into submission.”
His expression doesn’t change—unconcerned, bored.
“How about,” he says with a smirk, “we take all the rage and passion to the bedroom? Just like old times.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” I snap. He has as much of a heart as he does a brain. Absolutely none. “Is that why you’re here? You thought you could get a booty call out of me?”
“I had to come here for work for a few days.” He doesn’t deny it. “I just thought it’d be nice to rekindle an old flame. Let’s be honest, Jules—we were always fire in bed.”