Chapter 23 #2
I glance around for some explanation, some tendril of memory to hold on to, and that’s when I see him.
Nox. Passed out in my swivel chair, long legs lifted onto my desktop, ankles crossed.
He’s pushing the limits of those springs.
The chair bends back as far as it can possibly go, one wrong breath from tipping over.
His head lolls to the side at an uncomfortable angle, face half covered by his hair.
His expansive shoulders hunch, arms folded over his chest.
My heart shudders to a stop.
As if sensing my gaze, he bounds awake, entire body jolting as his eyes snap open and his feet clunk to the floor.
“What? Where?” His gaze lands on me. Awareness locks into place. He lets out a deep breath. “You’re awake.”
“You’re here,” I whisper, then wince, even that small noise too much for my pounding head.
“You called,” he says, leaning closer, propping his wrists on my bed. “Where else would I be?”
“I did?” I press my fingers into my temples, trying to stave off the throb. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“I shouldn’t have—”
“I’m glad you did,” he interrupts, moving even closer, leaving me nowhere to turn to escape that look in his eyes. “Don’t ever apologize for needing me, Clara. I want to be the person you call. Any time. Any day. If you ask for me, I’ll be here.”
I scrunch my face, not ready to acknowledge the sentiment lurking under those words. “You slept on my chair. You can’t do that. What if you pulled a muscle? Got a crick in your neck? Fell over and knocked yourself out on the corner of my desk?”
He frowns, arching a brow at that last one.
“I’m serious, Nox.”
“I didn’t.”
“You could have.”
“I didn’t,” he presses.
“You fly to California in two days—”
“For fuck’s sake,” he snaps. “You think I don’t know that? It’s my decision to make.”
But it’s not. Because I can’t live with that guilt. I won’t. “I’ll call Nova next time.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes, really.”
With someone else, that might be the end, maybe. But not with Nox. Never with Nox. His eyes blaze with challenge. “So why didn’t you call her this time? She was right there. She was at the party. She would’ve helped you.”
“I didn’t want to ruin her night.”
He sneers. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“Do I?”
“Yes, you do. Or you would, if you’d just pull your head out of your ass long enough to realize I don’t need you to decide what’s best for me.”
“I’m not deciding what’s best for you,” I say without thinking, too caught up in the argument, in the fight, to stop the words from barreling through my lips.
“I’m deciding what’s best for me. You want the truth, Nox?
I called you because you make me feel safe.
Is that what you want to hear? Does that make it better that I’m going away for the next year?
Does that make it easier to say goodbye? ”
“Yes,” he grits through his teeth, as if I can’t taste the lie in the air.
I scoff in his face.
He clenches his fists and steps closer, determination morphing his features.
I sit up, ready to tell him off.
A gasp slips through my lips instead. I grab at my head. All the fight seeps from him in an instant, shifting to concern. Then he’s there, hand on my jaw, thumb brushing across my cheekbone. His brow furrows as he studies my face.
“Are you okay?”
“I sat up too fast,” I rasp.
“Have this.”
He grabs the water from my desk and tilts it against my lips with practiced precision.
I realize it must not be the first time we’ve been here.
The cup is full. The water’s cold. I grip the fingers against my cheek as the chill slips down my throat, ebbing the pain.
He helps me back down and brushes the matted hair from my brow.
I must be a total disaster, but that’s not how he’s looking at me, that’s not what the pain laced through his gaze says.
God, I’m a bitch.
He stayed here all night taking care of me, and this is how I repay him? By yelling at him? By being too afraid to give him even an ounce of what he wants, one tiny shred to show him how I feel?
“Nox—”
“Get some rest, Clara,” he interrupts with defeat, stepping away.
“Wait.”
He doesn’t. I don’t blame him. But I don’t want to leave it like this. The semester is basically over, and if there’s anything the past few months have shown me, it’s that my time with him isn’t guaranteed. What if I don’t see him again before I go?
“A kaleidoscope,” I blurt idiotically.
“What?” He freezes in the doorway, tilting his head just enough to tell me he’s listening.
“A huge gathering of butterflies moving together is called a kaleidoscope,” I explain, resolute this time. “You told me back in December that if I wanted to thank you, all it took was an answer. That’s my answer, Nox.”
He turns, starting with his head, following with his body, as if he’s being pulled back to me against his will. Confusion knits his brow. A deep groove cuts down the center of his forehead. His lips purse above that devastating cleft in his chin as he stares at me, waiting.
I lick my lips and swallow, finding my courage.
“You don’t just give me butterflies,” I explain. “You give me an entire damn kaleidoscope.”
He takes a step forward, then throws his hands wide, catching himself on the door. His gaze sweeps over me on my bed, blazing a trail. His biceps strain with the force of holding himself back.
“Tomorrow,” he mutters, as if to himself. Then he nods, decision made, as he drags his gaze back to my eyes. “Meet me at the lake. 8 a.m. Tomorrow.”
I nod, done resisting. “Okay.”
“Bring your wetsuit.”
“Okay.”
He stares at me for one second longer, then pushes off the doorframe, throwing himself out of my room. I fall back on my pillows, hissing at the pain.
What the fuck have I done?
I don’t know. But it’s too late to turn back now.