— Chapter 34 —

=||=||=

"You can open your eyes now, Alley Cat."

The blackness dissipated as I slowly blinked open my eyelids, letting in the scene around me. The darkly tinted visor over my face was slightly scratched, but I could still see Noah's face perfectly fine. He was looking at me over his shoulder with a soft grin on his rosy lips.

I mumbled shyly, "How'd you know they were shut?"

"Because we've been parked for a minute now and you still haven't moved an inch."

My gaze snapped to my surroundings. Surely enough, the motorcycle had been turned off and parked while I'd been busy praying to God for my soul to be spared just this once. I was not about to let God screw me over—my death was going to be as boring as humanly possible. Like going in my sleep or dying from old age, preferably in an old folks home, and/or surrounded by cats. Definitely not on the back of a motorcycle.

The most embarrassing thing was that I was still clinging tightly to Noah. My arms were wrapped firmly around him.

Oh, god, my thoughts whined, cheeks going red from mortification. Why do I always have to be so goddamn embarrassing?

"I'm not entirely sure—and maybe I'm wrong on this, but... I think you can let go now?" He chuckled sarcastically as I pulled my arms away. "We made it back in one piece, didn't we?"

"Shockingly. You drive like an idiot."

His jaw dropped.

"Jesus—harsh!" He said. "I ride perfectly fine!"

"You keep zero distance," I teased, distracting him from embarrassing me any further. "We could've been flattened against the back of a car with every stoplight."

"How would you know? You had your eyes shut the entire time!" He complained, ruffling out the back of his hair. Muttering to himself, he added, "Jeez... I keep plenty of distance. You don't know what you're talking about."

I pulled off the helmet, instantly feeling refreshed with the cold air that struck my face.

Though, just as we were getting off the motorcycle, Noah began to laugh.

"...What?" I asked.

"Nothing, nothing, it's just..." he trailed off with a lopsided smile, "your hair."

A confused frown tugged my lips as I quickly ran my fingers through my hair. Almost immediately, I realized just how many strands the helmet had pulled out of the hair-tie. I probably looked ridiculous.

Noah chuckled, "Here, I got it."

And before I could object, he leaned closer to me, pulling the tie out of my hair completely. As the pale-brown strands began to fall down the sides of my surprised face, I looked up to the black hair-tie he was holding in the air, having been taken from me so abruptly.

"Hey!" I muttered, leaning forward in an effort to reach it. "I need that."

It was the last hair-tie I had—a life or death situation.

Noah grinned innocently as he moved it further away from me. In an attempt to get it back, I stepped between his legs—it didn't process in my head until afterward that his face was now only an inch away from mine and that my hand was gripping his waist for balance.

Noah's teasing smirk made me freeze.

Oh god.

The position we were in was nothing but incriminating. He was leaning against his motorcycle, with my body pressed up to most of his. Forced to meet his gaze, I couldn't help holding my breath and losing myself in his striking eyes.

Very light brown, almost the same shade as honey. Gold flecks seemed sprinkled in them like the constellations of a vast galaxy, gleaming proudly under the soft moonlight. But there were dark shadows in his eyes too—subtle, chocolate-brown clouds swirling around his pupils and the edges of his irises. They were unlike anything I'd ever seen.

I was focused entirely on him again. Everything else that had been weighing on my shoulders tonight felt slightly lighter... I could breathe more clearly.

He grazed his tongue along the edge of his lower lip, clearly unable to hide the smile that was slowly creeping onto his face.

For a moment as we stood there together, I could've sworn I'd seen something flash in his eyes. Desire, perhaps... something lustful, gleaming impatiently in his endearing irises. Whatever it was, Noah didn't let it slip for long.

But I realized something in that moment: I wanted him to kiss me.

We can't.

We can't do this again.

Noah seemed to be able to read my mind. His soft gaze trailed over my features, lingering on my lips for a spare moment before looking up at me again.

I almost shuddered when his fingers pushed away the strands of hair that had fallen over my eyes. He rested the locks behind my ear, a flirty shimmer in his irises.

Taking a gentle hold of my arm, which was still reaching to take the hair-tie, Noah finally broke the silence.

"Why don't we go take care of this, Alley Cat?"

I'd been so hyper-focused on the sound of his voice that I'd forgotten to listen to what he'd been saying. By the time his words had registered in my head, I'd already jumped to the dirtiest conclusion.

He wants to, uh, what, I—

I followed his gaze to my hand and finally realized that he'd been talking about my split knuckles. But it was already too late... an intense and incriminating heat had already flushed my cheeks.

Noah grinned when he noticed, but didn't say anything to tease me on it. Instead, he reached around my head, tied my hair into a messy bun for me, and spoke up with a friendly tone to his voice.

"You should have it out more often. It looks nice on you," he said. I only stared at him in response, too flustered to speak. "Let's go."

I stepped out of Noah's way as he shoved his hands in his pockets and began walking in the direction of our apartment. I stood frozen in place for a spare moment.

What the hell just happened?

Noah chuckled, "You coming?"

I snapped out of my daze. "Uh, yeah—coming."

Noah and I were sitting in the living room of the apartment, his half-empty first-aid kit and its contents sprawled messily on the coffee table. Seated on the floor with Noah on the couch, I had my busted hand resting on his thigh.

The TV was turned on even though neither of us were paying much attention to it—a newscaster was busy reading the nightly headlines, but nothing of interest had come up so far. Noah himself had his focus on my busted hand, gently turning and adjusting it so that he could clean up the blood with the cotton ball he was holding.

"Didn't I tell you to let me do all your punching for you?" He joked, habitually grazing his silver piercing along the bottom of his pearly front teeth.

Noah's words forced a soft chuckle to leave my lips.

He'd cleaned up most of the blood on my knuckles, though the cuts still definitely stung badly. To be entirely honest, I was still in shock with myself.

I punched James in the face.

I punched James.

In the face.

God. Have I lost my damn mind?

There was still enough adrenaline coursing through my veins for me to go sprint three laps around the neighborhood and scream at the top of my lungs. I'd officially lost it. What the hell was I thinking?

I hadn't seen James in five years, and the first time we'd finally been on the cusp of speaking, I ended up punching the guy in the face. Like an idiot.

Regret had been itching at the back of my thoughts for hours.

James entirely deserved to be punched, of course—he'd put me through enough pain since the very first day we'd met. I'd never once been violent with him... but tonight had been different.

It was too much for me to handle all at once. The joy of being able to see him again. The rage that came from him having the audacity to come back in my life again, after he'd chosen to leave in the first place. The memories of how broken I'd been after he'd deserted me all those years ago. The pain of always being his last choice. The heartbreak of him not loving me enough to stay.

But despite all of that, it was still wrong of me to punch him like I had. It wasn't right for me to hurt him, much less in public where anyone could see it happen.

I'd just been so angry.

I didn't know how to else to react. I didn't know what to do. I just wanted him to feel the same pain he'd made me feel.

I was a terrible person.

Noah noticed that I was chewing anxiously on my lip and drew my attention.

"Who was he?" He asked me. Noah had his gaze trained down on my hand as he got the question out, almost like he'd have felt awkward asking it directly.

I spent a second deliberating my answer. My free hand clenching by my side, I let out a shaky exhale.

...Fuck this.

Admitting it quietly, I answered, "James. My ex."

Noah's gaze met mine.

"The one who broke y—"

"Yes. That one."

For a brief moment, I could've sworn I saw Noah's jaw tighten. But, as he tossed away a used cotton ball, his expression fell flat again.

I still hadn't talked to him about the meltdown I'd had with him that night. Perhaps he'd decided to leave it alone. But for whatever reason, I was thankful.

"Why'd you hit him?"

I took a breath to reply but realized that I didn't know how to answer him.

"It's... complicated, Noah."

"You're free to explain it to me if you want to," he said. "It's gonna be a while before I finish this up anyway, so you've got plenty of time."

I paused, watching as he fiddled around with the first-aid kit looking for something. I could feel myself grow tense. My nails dug into my palm just thinking of how he'd think of me if I explained myself. He'd probably think I sounded stupid.

Instead, I asked him, "Why do you care?"

"Because it's important to you," he shrugged, finding the bandages. "To be honest, I thought you were the type that couldn't hurt a fly, so... it's gotta be pretty bad if you had to punch him. I guess I just don't want him to be bothering you. Especially not where you work."

I stared at him, somewhat stunned.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. No pressure," he assured me. "Just thought I'd lend you an ear."

Turning over my hand while he aligned the bandages, a few moments passed while thoughts plagued my mind.

Then he murmured, "It hurts, doesn't it?"

I looked down at my hand.

Noah's thumb was gently rubbing the marks on my palm from where I'd been digging my nails in. Something had struck in his eyes—a soft kind of melancholy, supplemented by his worry for me.

Four tiny incisions, scabbed over after having been sliced to the point of bleeding. I'd been too rough. They still stung, despite the careful grazing of Noah's thumb. Then he realized I was still clenching my other hand.

He picked it up with care, and with a few gentle traces of his fingers, my hand loosened completely. After that, he just... held both of my hands together, cupped between his, soothing my nerves without even speaking a word.

How did he always manage to do that?

Every time that I felt frustrated, or anxious, or sad, his presence immediately managed to calm me down. He was like an anchor. I always managed to find a sense of peace by his side.

I knew that the world around me was falling apart under the weight of my problems, but... Noah helped me forget them. At least for a little while.

"I panicked," I finally confessed to him, but my voice came out no higher than a murmur.

Noah looked up at me, listening carefully while I found the words to continue.

"Five years apart, and I... I haven't seen him since the day he left me," I stammered out, hopelessness weighing heavily on my chest. "Then he just showed up back in Boston out of nowhere. At the reunion party I went to. Back then I didn't say anything to him, but... what could I say, anyway? After five years of nothing but total radio silence, how was I supposed to react when he decided to walk back into my life again?"

Noah hung onto the words for a moment before answering.

"That's why you came home early that night," he realized. "I thought you looked upset, but... I didn't want to press you on it."

I fiddled with my fingers as Noah found the bandages again.

He asked, "And tonight? What happened?"

"I didn't know he'd be there. Riven must've told James where I worked, but I never would have thought he'd have the nerve to show up," I said. Noah aligned the bandage to my wrist as I continued. "Just... of all the places he could've chosen to confront me, he did it somewhere public. It was like being backed into a corner. I was angry, I was upset, and I... I snapped. Lashed out. Overreacted."

A pause ensued before I quickly added, "I don't know. I just... I can't explain how I feel. I probably sound stupid."

"You're not stupid," Noah said. "He put you on the spot in a place where he knew he couldn't be ignored, except it backfired for him. So you're not stupid, Elliot. From what you've told me, I would've punched the asshole too. But... heh. Maybe my opinion's biased."

His words coaxed a tiny smile out of me.

Noah added, "Regardless, I'm not exactly sure how close you two were, but you don't have to hear him out of you don't want to. He doesn't have a right to dictate whether or not you let him into your life again. That's your decision to make—not anybody else's."

I watched in thought as he wrapped the bandage twice around my wrist.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe I deserved to be able to choose whether I heard James out or not.

I sighed. "He's not supposed to be in Boston. James ditched me for Los Angeles the first chance he got and made a name for himself. He never called. Never explained himself. Never bothered to say goodbye. We spent some of the best years of our lives with each other and he just... threw it all away like it was worth nothing to him."

I had to stop to take a breath. Talking about it felt like ripping open an old wound, but things always had to get worse before they got better.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "I just... I don't know why he's back. It's not fair. I've never been anything more than his second choice, so what could he possibly want from me after all this time, you know?"

Noah's eyes lingered on my own for a moment, but it was me who looked away first. I'd just poured out to him the hellish thoughts that had been eating away at me for years—it felt like a relief, but... it also made me feel vulnerable.

Noah's thumb grazed the top of my hand.

"You're not under any obligation to forgive him," he told me, "and you have nothing to apologize for. You told him to stop, didn't you? You made it clear that you wanted to be left alone and he wasn't about to listen."

"But I still shouldn't have hit him."

"You were standing up for yourself," he told me. "Sure, it probably wasn't the best way to handle the situation, but you were cornered. And nice punch, by the way—very impressive form. Not much force on the impact, though, but that's nothing a couple of hours on a set of weights won't fix."

I chuckled at the comment.

"No thanks. Hard pass."

Noah smiled softly at my answer.

We sat in silence for a few more seconds as Noah began to wrap layers around my hand, being careful when adjusting my bruised knuckles.

Truthfully, I never really paid much attention to my health or tending to my injuries. When it came to taking care of myself, I was pretty fond of just ignoring my problems until they eventually went away on their own.

It was nice having somebody to take care of me.

"Did he ever hit you?"

Noah's sudden question caught me off guard.

I coughed.

"U-Uh," I said, "no? Never."

Noah's brows furrowed, but he kept his gaze entirely focused on treating my hand. "He never hurt you? Nothing like that?"

"Why are you asking me this?"

"Because something wasn't right when I was watching you two earlier," he told me. "I know what I saw. There was this look in your eyes—the same look you get whenever you talk about your old man. Dread. Like you're terrified that he could hurt you."

"James never hit me," I muttered. "He would never do that. He... he took care of me. We took care of each other. Sure, maybe there were times where we fought, but isn't that normal in relationships?"

"Sure," he said. "Is being on the verge of a panic attack at the sight of your ex also normal to you?"

"It's not—I wasn't," I mumbled.

"So why were you looking at him like that?" He urged me, clearly seeking an answer that I didn't know myself. "Come on, Elliot. It's obvious there's more to what you're telling me."

Frustrated, I said, "I don't know what you want me to tell you, Noah."

"I know you're lying to me."

"I'm not lying to you."

"Everyone's got their flaws. You mean to tell me that punk with his sports car and fancy watch doesn't have a single thing wrong with him?" Noah scoffed to himself, amused. "What kind of rainbows and unicorns fantasy were you living in?"

The question was rhetorical—but it still managed to annoy me deeply

"It wasn't rainbows and unicorns, Noah," I frowned. "It was a relationship. It was great at the best of times and hell at the worst. The sex was fine and our connection was incredible. But it wasn't sunshine and rainbows. When we fought it got nasty. We hurt each other. But that's entirely normal. And you're reaching if you think that—"

"So he did hurt you."

"Yes, but didn't hit me," I said, cracking beneath the weight of his questions. "He yelled. He yelled at me until my ears were ringing and then he yelled some more. What's so terrible about that? Fighting is normal. It's normal, Noah. At least when he yelled it was because he cared."

A long silence ensued.

Noah's attention had entirely drawn away from the bandages on my hand. Instead, he was staring widely in my direction with his striking eyes, his lips parted slightly in disbelief.

"What?" I grumbled to him with a heavy exhale. "Say something."

Noah's jaw clenched tightly.

"That's not fucking normal, Elliot," he said coldly. "You don't do that to someone you love. Being screamed at until you can't think is not normal. It's not love. Did he tell you that it was? How many times did he have to yell at you to twist that into your head?"

"You don't know what you're talking about."

Noah leaned back into his seat and muttered hatefully under his breath, "That manipulative fucking bastard."

"You just don't get it," I said. "He's... he's not like that. Yes, he yelled sometimes, but never without reason. It took a lot to get him angry. James was one of the only people who ever actually cared about me, to begin with. He was there for me when nobody else was, and... I don't care what you think of him. You wouldn't understand."

Noah scoffed. "You'd hate it if I yelled at you, Elliot. So how's it any different when he does it?"

I felt sick to my stomach.

The words wouldn't come to my mouth.

It is different.

With a trembling inhale, I watched Noah as he picked up the bandages again and began to finish them up.