Friday, October 11th
Just a kiss.
12:30pm
“I love her?” I repeat, my throat burning.
Olivia nods firmly at my statement. I step away from her, my hands shaking at my sides.
I love her.
Every part of me is pounding. Shaking. I’m practically vibrating.
From anger.
From hurt.
I love her.
I shake my head. Because it’s not true. It can’t be true.
“Noah … Noah doesn’t love me,” I stutter.
“It’s what he said,” Olivia replies softly, her brows drawing in.
And I know that look. It’s pity.
“Well, that’s rich. That’s something, isn’t it?” I say partly to Olivia, partly to myself.
I laugh in disbelief.
Because this whole thing is becoming hilarious really. I mean, here I am, starting to pace, just like Harry did when he dumped me. And I can’t help myself. I let out another sharp laugh, feeling mocked by the parallels.
“Suddenly, Noah loves me? No, he doesn’t. He really doesn’t. If he loved me, he wouldn’t have just done that to me. He lied to Harry to get what he wanted.”
“Why would he lie?” Olivia asks.
I pace back and forth, wanting to just walk away.
I need to get my bag.
I need to leave.
I need a strategy. A plan. How quickly can I get out of here? Is the closest exit really through the main entrance? Maybe I can leave through the exit by the locker rooms. Yes. Then no one will be able to stop me. Gene and Helen are both at work, so I can make my escape. I can pack up my bags, throw them down the fucking staircase, and be on my merry way. I nod my head, knowing it’s what I have to do.
I glance toward Olivia. She’s still standing beside me, her eyes drawn up to mine like she’s waiting. I think she asked me a question. Maybe she’s waiting for an answer.
I’m not even sure I remember her question.
My heart and mind are racing.
I think back to what Olivia said again.
Why would he lie?
Why would Noah lie?
I stop pacing and turn to Olivia. Because she needs to know the truth. At least if she knows the truth, if one other person knows, it won’t be a secret anymore. It won’t be some intimacy shared between only Noah and me. Maybe it will help her piece together the mess that I’m in. And if she understands, maybe she can make Harry understand.
I know that my actions today probably broke his heart.
And I will never forgive myself for that.
I bring my mind back to Olivia. Back to our conversation. Back to Noah.
“Fine, maybe Noah does love me. But Noah’s probably in love with some sick and twisted version of me he’s created in his head. In that fucked up head of his. Okay? Maybe he thought he meant it. But … but … it’s not the truth.”
“Mallory”—Olivia reaches out to me, but I don’t let her touch me—“you’re wrong.”
Her brows pull in as she presses her lips together. I stare at her, hoping that her expression will change.
She has to understand.
She has to change her mind.
Because if she doesn’t, that means I just ruined everything.
That means that maybe Noah does love me.
My whole body feels drained.
It’s like all the blood moving through me somehow goes cold. All the energy that Noah talks about needing to dissipate is gone. All my sass and rage, in one moment, disappears. And I feel like a ghost. Like a shell. I think if Olivia tried to grab my arm again to comfort me, her hand might go right through me. Because there is so little of me here right now that it would be like trying to grasp thin air.
And what I want right now, more than anything, is to disappear.
To become invisible and sneak out of this school.
To leave and never look back.
“Miss James.” A voice echoes out, filling the hallway.
I turn to the voice, not recognizing the face of the professor standing in front of me.
“The headmaster would like to have a word.”
I look at him, unmoving for a moment. Because my plan to escape without notice was just taken away from me.
I give a small nod to the professor.
He stays standing with his feet firmly planted, waiting for me. And I know that I’m supposed to follow him to the office. I shake my head once, trying to clear it, and then start moving.
The man motions for me to walk in front of him.
Maybe he thinks I’ll bolt.
Or maybe he doesn’t want to give me the comfort of following him. He wants me to know that step after step, there’s no getting out of this. I’m stuck between him and Headmaster Compton. I glance back to Olivia.
She’s standing in the direction I should be heading.
Toward my locker.
Toward the exit.
There’s so much I want to say to her.
I want to apologize. To tell her that I didn’t want to leave like this. That I messed up.
Her skin is tinted pink, and I can see the tearstains still on her cheeks. She wipes at her skin, trying to erase the marks as she watches me. There’s something different about the way she’s looking at me. Pity, confusion, and worry all mix together across her features, and it’s enough to make my stomach drop even further down than it already is.
I end up just shaking my head at her. Nothing I say will make things right. Mouthing, I’m sorry, won’t change anything.
The only thing I can do is leave.
Because Olivia is usually the collected one.
Even when we got in our fight the first week I was here, she was filled with pure rage. There wasn’t anything broken in her. There wasn’t any raw, hurt emotion coming through. It was a game. She wanted Harry, and I had him. Plain and simple. But now, there are so many emotions flashing across her face that I have to look away. I fix my eyes on the end of the hallway. On the door leading into the offices.
The professor behind me clears his throat when we get to the door. There’s a small window along the same wall, and I hesitate when I look through it.
Because I can see Noah.
I stare at him through the glass, my stomach dropping. His shoulders are slumped as he sits in the office.
“Please,” the professor says, extending his hand out to the door. He holds it open for me.
When I walk into the office, Ms. Adams eyes me.
“Please, take a seat,” she says, rising from her desk. “I will let the headmaster know you’re both here.”
I swallow hard, my gaze shifting from the secretary to the seats against the wall. To the seat that Noah is sitting in.
When his eyes come up to meet mine, it’s like I’ve slipped under the water in a bathtub. That feeling of total silence. Total peace. Noah’s eyes do that to me. And if everything hadn’t just happened, I might be able to forget what all just happened. But one look at his lips won’t let me forget.
Because, this morning, I decided to wear red lipstick.
To go out with a bang.
I shake my head at myself, noticing how Noah’s lips are a little too red. And it’s because of me.
I tainted them.
I tainted him.
With my lips. With my anger.
I feel like I could puke, seeing his normally pink lips a tinge too red. Noah bites into his lip at the same time that his eyes narrow in on me. He’s glaring at me.