Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
GRACIE
As soon as the door snicks shut behind Noah, I fall to my knees, unable to stop my body from trembling. I told him that I had some work to do for class, barely managing to hold myself together while I waited for him to leave.
A sob wracks through me as I finally let the tears fall, the conflicting emotions threatening to overwhelm me. Not only have I just fucking dry humped my brother’s friend, my friend—or maybe not, after all—but everything is suddenly coming to a head.
Those words, those fucking words.
Fuck, love. You feel so good.
They echo around in my mind, playing on a loop over and over and over again.
I know those words.
I’ve heard them countless times before.
I know that goddamn voice.
The husky lilt as he whispers when he’s turned on.
Noah goddamn White is my stalker.
He’s the one who’s been chasing me around in a mask, declaring things to me that he has no right to.
I went to Noah for help, and instead I walked right into his trap.
Everything that’s happened in these last few weeks is all on him.
He is the one he’s been so called protecting me from.
All this time, it was him.
How did I not figure it out sooner? How did I miss the blatant holes in his stories, the little signs that pointed towards it all this time?
And how… how the hell did I miss his voice? He spoke to me without the modulator so many times and I never put two and two together.
Was my mind just blocking out the truth? Or am I really that oblivious? Have I been in denial this entire time?
How could I have been so fucking stupid?
How am I so blind?
And what the hell am I meant to do now?
I… I’m honestly not sure of anything anymore.
Noah and I were getting so close, I was starting to feel things for him.
I trusted him.
And yet it was all a lie.
A manipulation.
But you were feeling things for the other side of him too, a little voice in the back of my mind whispers and I groan in frustration.
No.
This is not my fault. He manipulated me, made me fall for not only him himself, but his masked persona too.
Did he know that I would come to him for help? Did he anticipate it?
For what reason? What could he possibly hope to come from all of this?
Does he even really have feelings for me like I believed he did? I was so sure the stalker really felt something for me, and that was his reasoning for everything, but now that I know that it’s Noah… I don’t know what to believe anymore.
I never thought that unmasking him would be my undoing.
I heave a breath and stand before heading to the corner of the room where my art supplies sit. It’s rare that I paint, opting instead to sketch, but I need it right now.
I need the chaos of the colors and the messiness of the paints.
I need the release of the thoughts and emotions swirling around in my brain.
I need to get my head away from Noah fucking White.
I place a canvas on the easel before pulling out some paints from the cabinet beside it, my brain not even thinking through what I’m doing before I suddenly find myself swiping the paintbrush against the canvas.
My body is tense, my breaths coming out in pants the longer I work.
Black.
Purple.
Trees.
White.
Neon lights.
Purple flowers.
Tears.
Wracking sobs and insurmountable pain.
Fear and heartache.
Anger and sadness.
Betrayal and distrust.
So. Much. Fucking. Rage.
It feels like forever has passed before I finally come back to myself and I stare at the painting in front of me.
A painting of me, standing between both Noah and his masked persona, a look of utter heartbreak on my face while Noah grins towards the viewer and the masked man stares towards me in the painting.
The longer I stare at what’s in front of me, the more anger rises within me.
Even now, when I’m doing my best to get my mind off him, he’s still in the forefront of my thoughts.
Fuck this.
Fuck him.
A scream reaches my ears, and it takes me a moment to realize that it’s coming from me, but when I do, I lose it.
I grab the canvas and fling it, sending it careening across the room and reveling in the clatter of it hitting the wall before it knocks a lamp from the table, which shatters as it hits the floor.
My hands find my hair and I drop to my knees before letting out another ear shattering scream as though the sound will help let out all of the emotions that keep building inside me.
I don’t bother trying to hold back the tears, instead opting to let them fall freely, hoping they’ll somehow ease the ache that’s been building inside me since I first heard Noah murmur those words.
Seconds.
Minutes.
Hours.
I’m not sure how long I sit here, crying silently as my body wracks with tremors, but once I finally come back to myself, I’m filled with steely determination.
The feelings I had for Noah are a thing of the past. They have to be if I have any hopes of holding onto my sanity.
Thoughts cascade around my mind. His reasons and expectations for the shit he did unknown, but I keep coming back to the way he treated me.
He’s been messing with me this entire time and every time I try to figure it out, my mind comes back to one thing.
He wants me.
Sure, he went about it completely the wrong way, and it’s entirely fucked up and makes no goddamn sense as to why he would do it, but I know that for sure, at least.
Cole, Harley and Logan would lose their minds if they found out about it, and I have a feeling that the guys don’t know their best friend nearly as much as they think they do, because they all see him as the sensible, dependable one.
In reality, he’s freaking insane.
Before, I was torn about the growing feelings for Noah and the fact I liked what the masked stalker was doing, which I guess makes me as messed up as he is.
But now… well, now they’re the same person.
Do I want him? I shouldn’t.
Can I get past the lies and the secrets? I doubt it.
He’s spent weeks torturing me, and so long as I can keep him in the dark about what I know, I can do the same to him.
I can play it to my advantage and mess with both sides of him and then we’ll see how he likes it.
I can fuck with him in much the same way he’s done to me, see how he likes being fucking manipulated like that.
I doubt anything good can come from this entire thing, and I honestly don’t know if I want anything to come from it, the only thing I’m sure of is like fuck am I just going to lie down and let Noah walk all over me in the way he has been.
No, I can give as good as I get, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
Noah White might think he’s clever for what he’s been doing, but I’m an Aston, goddammit, and I’m going to fight fire with fire.
It’s the least he deserves.