Chapter 4 #2
“And the ego boost to prove it.” Nova rolls her eyes, but a grin plays across her lips too.
“He was all over the news for a while there. No one expected him to do so well. I mean, we did, because we know him. But for everyone else, it was sort of a Cinderella story type thing, this new seventeen-year-old swimmer coming out onto the world stage for the first time and kicking ass for Team USA. It was pretty cool, actually.”
I flash back to the pool this morning, the sight of him torpedoing beneath the surface. The Olympics. Holy shit, they’re talking about the Olympics!
All three of them stare at me expectantly, waiting for me to respond, I’m sure, with something like, Oh right! Nox Monroe! I totally remember.
Instead, my mouth drops open and…stays there.
I have no words. The realizations drop one by one, a slow-moving fuse leading toward an explosive device in the back of my brain.
Nova’s brother’s name is Nox.
He did not throw me into the lake last night.
He did not dive in to save me out of guilt. He did it, I guess, out of the goodness in his heart. And I was a complete and total bitch in return.
Oh, and—AND—he’s one of the fastest swimmers in the world, who I taunted, then called Mr. I Can Swim All By Myself before challenging him to prove it in the pool this morning.
Fuck my fucking life.
His haughty words come back to me. When you’re ready to apologize, I’ll be in my room. I’m pretty sure you know where it is.
I do.
And even though it takes me about five hours to pull myself out of the pit of sheer mortification I unwittingly flung myself into, I eventually make my way there.
“…Clara…”
The sound of my name yanks me out of the very loud pity party happening in the back of my head.
After spending about an hour with him on the quad this afternoon, I recognize Logan’s voice.
He’s from Boston, but his mom is childhood best friends with Nox and Nova’s mom, so the three of them spent every summer at their lake houses together growing up.
Must be nice. He and Nox are apparently best friends.
And according to Nova, he’s the bane of her existence, but the flirty archnemeses vibe they’ve got going on is chock full of unresolved sexual tension if you ask me.
Two feet from the open door, I stop my already slow steps and press my back to the wall. The hallway is empty for the time being, which gives me a golden opportunity to snoop. I turn my head a little and strain to hear more.
“So you met Clara?” Nox’s deep voice rolls through me like thunder.
“Yeah,” Logan answers.
“When?”
“I don’t know. A few hours ago? Nova seems to really like her.”
“What do you think?”
“She seems nice enough.” I can almost hear his ambivalent shrug. “She accepted my apology.”
Nox grunts, then slowly adds, “You don’t think she’s…”
“What?” Logan presses.
An ungrateful asshole, I think, bracing myself for what’s to come.
“A bit of a brat?” Nox finally says.
I wince. It’s nicer, I guess, than some of the other options that ran through my head, but the underlying implication hits harder for some reason. That I’m more than just rude. I’m spoiled. Whiny. Entitled.
He doesn’t know me, I try to remind myself as the ache sinks deeper. I rub at my chest. He doesn’t know my story.
On the other side of the wall, Logan quips, “Well, you know I like them mean.”
Nox must make a face, because his friend starts giggling in that caught-in-the-act, little-boy sort of way.
“Sorry. Sorry! Couldn’t help myself.”
There’s a slight pause. I should really get this over with. Step in the doorway. Clear my throat. Make myself known. I should, but—
“She’s kinda hot, though. Right?” Logan says. “Clara, I mean.”
Nox doesn’t answer.
I swallow, hanging on the silence, everything about me still, frozen, waiting. The seconds pass so slowly, my body turns into petrified wood, stiff from holding the same position for so long. I almost step in, just to break the tension, but Logan does it for me.
“What the hell is that look on your face?” he gleefully accuses.
My heart thuds in my chest.
“Nothing,” Nox says dismissively. “Get that look off your face. I know exactly what you’re thinking. But you’re wrong. She’s the type of girl who’d only be a distraction, you know? She’s the last thing I need.”
“Ahh,” Logan murmurs as if he understands exactly what type of girl that is. “She’s high maintenance. I get it.”
High maintenance.
I flinch as though struck.
High maintenance!?
I flash back to that moment in the lake, how safe I felt in Nox’s arms, how he looked at me as if he knew all my secrets, how it terrified me, but in some small, horrible way thrilled me too.
And now he’s here in his room, calling me a brat, saying I’m a distraction, labeling me as high-fucking-maintenance, as if my trauma is a simple inconvenience, as if all that fear and pain I know he sensed is some sort of switch I’m choosing to keep flipped for attention and not a soul-crushing debilitation I’m fighting my damnedest to beat.
I came here to apologize, but suddenly I can’t find the will to care if Nox Monroe hates me. Let him. You know what? I think I’ll hate him, too. Being angry is so much easier than being hurt, than being vulnerable. If he wants to give me a reason to stay mad, I’m sure as hell going to take it.
Fuck that apology. And fuck him.
I turn and walk away, not needing to hear more. You think I’m distracting now? I’ll show you exactly how distracting a girl like me can be.
I don’t even have to wait very long. At two o’clock the next day, the perfect opportunity arises.