Chapter Eight
Elsie
Some days, being human is the hardest thing you can be. Today is one of those days. By the time I get home, it's late, and I'm emotionally and mentally drained.
I risk a glance at Noah's house as I stumble up the steps to the front door, but his lights are off. He's probably asleep. Or he's avoiding me. Either way, I don't think I'll be seeing him tonight.
Right now, I'm not even sure I want to see him.
He hurt my feelings this morning.
We've spent so much time together since I moved in. Unless he's working a case, we're pretty much together from the time I get home until the time I crash at night. We eat together. We laugh together. We talk about everything. I really thought we were friends.
I thought he knew me, respected me, hell, liked me.
Does he really think I'm setting a bad example for my students? Sure, I've been late a few times, but it's not like I intentionally set out to show up late. Our principal has been more understanding than my infuriating and infuriatingly hot neighbor.
His bad attitude was not what I wanted to deal with today of all days. It's my dad's birthday. If I were back in Porter, I'd be spending it with my mom. We'd go to the cemetery and place flowers on his grave. She'd tell me stories about him. We'd laugh and cry and just be together.
I can't do that here.
Instead, I spent the day pretending everything was fine. I spent the evening in a parent-teacher conference over a student who was watching porn in class and decided to flip a desk instead of taking responsibility.
And that was after my hot jerk-of-a-neighbor made me cry this morning.
When he told me that people give him challenge coins to say thanks, I wanted to give him one, too. Not just to say thanks for what he does, but to say thanks for being who he is. He's made my life so much better by being part of it. Finding the one from his brother's team was perfect.
Giving it to him today, when I couldn't be with my mom, felt…not really like it'd bandage the wound, but like it'd make me feel a tiny bit better to make him smile today of all days.
Instead, he made me cry.
I got his apology text this morning, but I never responded. I wasn't sure what to say because I'm not sure if he truly meant it or if he just felt guilty for being a jerk when I did something nice for him.
I don't want a pity apology.
He's so damn confusing! Two nights ago, he almost kissed me. This morning, he made me cry.
What does he even want from me?
Was this morning his way of telling me that he regrets almost kissing me? It's a fucked-up way of communicating that he isn't into me like that, that's for sure.
I drop my bag inside the door and head straight for the kitchen, grabbing a frosting container and a spoon. I kick my shoes off before curling up on the couch and turning on the lamp. I don't bother with the overhead lights.
I'm not bothering with real food, either.
I can punish myself for my bad decisions on my jog tomorrow. But I intend to enjoy them tonight first.
I'm three bites in when my phone dings with an incoming text, followed by a photo of a gorgeous flower arrangement.
Alice: Since you couldn't be here today, I took flowers to the cemetery for you and visited with your dad.
Tears spring to my eyes, a soft sob choking me.
I set the frosting container aside, quickly dialing her number.
"Thank you," I cry into the phone.
"You don't have to thank me," she says quietly. "I love you. It's what you do for people you love."
That only makes me cry harder. I didn't even cry this hard when I talked to my mom earlier.
But Alice always seems to know when I need her.
It's like she has this sixth sense and just…
shows up in the best ways. She's never getting rid of me.
I don't care how far apart we are physically. She'll always be my ride-or-die.
"It was a shitty shitastic day," I explain through hiccups.
"I can tell," she says, chuckling. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No." I grab the container again, taking another big bite. "I want to sit here and be sad and not think about Noah."
"Uh-oh. What did Mr. Mafia do?"
"Would you stop calling him that?" I groan.
"Never." Her evil laugh crackles down the line. "That's his name forever now. What did he do? Because I can totally catch a flight and shit in his gas tank."
"You know that isn't physically possible, right?"
"They make funnels and stool softener for a reason, Elsie."
I choke on a laugh and then glance at my frosting and groan, setting it aside. "Thanks for ruining my dinner."
"Were you eating frosting?"
"No." I grimace. "Maybe."
She laughs again. "What did Noah do?"
"He was weird this morning," I mutter. "I took him that coin I bought him, and he was cranky. He said I was going to set a bad example for my students if I kept showing up to work late."
"What the fuck?"
"It was weird," I grumble. "He sent me an apology text and said he didn't mean it, but I don't know. What if he does?"
"He doesn't mean it," Alice says firmly. "No one who knows you could ever possibly think you're a bad example." She pauses. "Except for that time we did that thing. You were definitely a bad example then."
"We swore never to speak of that again."
"I know. I'm just say—"
A loud knock thumps the door on its hinges, and I nearly drop the phone.
"Crap," I whisper.
"What?"
"I think he's here." That's a lie. I know he's here. He's the only one who ever knocks on my door, and he knocks precisely like a cop, so it's not like it's a mystery who is out there now.
"Good," Alice says, a little growl in her voice. "Let him in. Talk to him. Verbally kick his ass. And then jump his bones."
"Alice," I groan. "We're just friends."
"Right. That's what you call it when you want someone to kiss you and then bang you into next century.
Also, if you're just friends much longer, you're going to have to buy stock in Duracell because we both know you're going through enough batteries to rival the carbon footprint of a billionaire with a private jet. "
Dammit. She isn't wrong. If I keep it up, I may break my vagina.
"We're just friends," I say anyway, just for good measure.
"Well, I'm hanging up, so you can either open that door and talk to him, or you can eat your frosting all by yourself. But I bet it'd taste better on him."
"Alice!"
She cackles before hanging up on me.
I groan again when Noah knocks one more time.
I guess it would be cowardly to pretend I don't hear him, wouldn't it?
I grumble to myself and haul myself to my feet to answer the door.
I know I look like shit. My face is probably splotchy. My eyes are red. I probably even have mascara trails. I quickly try to wipe them away and then straighten my clothes and hair before pulling open the door.
Noah looks like a God, like usual. Who knew a T-shirt could mold to muscles so perfectly? He also looks tired.
"Shit." His expression turning thunderous when he sees my face. He doesn't wait for an invitation before he stomps inside, looking like he wants to break something.
"What do you want, Noah?"
"I made you cry."
"Funny how that happens when you insult people who thought you were friends."
"We are friends," he growls.
"Friends don't insult each other."
"I know, Dimples. I know. I just…I was an asshole, and I'm fucking sorry. I didn't mean it."
"Then why'd you say it?"
"I thought we covered that under 'I was an asshole'?" He shoves a hand through his hair like he's stressed. "I don't know why I said it, sweetness. I was tired and irritable, and I took it out on you when you're the last person who deserves it. I felt like an asshole as soon as I said it."
"You really hurt my feelings," I whisper.
"I know. I know." He steps toward me, reaching out for me. I bite my lip as he reels me into his arms, wrapping them around me until I'm pressed up against his chest. "I'm sorry."
I don't know what happens or why, but as soon as I feel his arms around me, I choke on a sob. It's like everything just crashes down on me at once, and I can't fight off the tears this time.
"Baby," he says, horrified as he pulls back to look at me. "Please, don't cry. I'm so goddamn sorry."
That just makes me cry harder. It's not even his fault, not really. Yeah, he said something shitty. Yeah, it hurt my feelings, but that's not really why I'm in my feelings today. It doesn't really have anything to do with him at all.
But I can't explain that. I'm too busy snot-crying into his shirt to explain. When I try, I just choke on the words.
He hauls me closer, swinging me up into his arms like I'm a little girl as he stalks toward my sofa. He sits with me in his lap, and even though I know I should move, I just curl into him, letting him hold me as I cry.
"It's okay," he croons, rubbing circles against my back. "I'm so sorry that I'm an asshole. You deserve to be treated like a queen, Dimples. I should have told you this morning that you're perfect. That's what you deserve to hear."
I'm not sure if he means it, but the biggest part of me hopes he does.
Eventually, I cry myself out. And then I just sit in that awkward post-meltdown silence, not sure how to explain why I fell apart. Emotions are such a pain in the ass. They're messy and complicated, and it's a whole uncomfortable thing most of the time.
"I'm sorry," I finally whisper, still not looking at him.
"Don't apologize to me," he groans, sounding pained. "I'm the one who fucked up, not you."
I lick my lips, trying to work moisture back into my mouth. "It's not your fault. I, um, today is my dad's birthday."
"Shit." He goes rigid beneath me. For a second, he just sits there, every muscle locked tight, and then he crooks a finger beneath my chin, forcing me to look at him. The regret and guilt in his eyes make my chest hurt. "I'm so sorry, baby."