Chapter 91 Chapter Ninety One
That evening, I collapsed into bed feeling like I'd been hit by a truck.
Every muscle in my body ached. My skin felt tight from the facial treatments and my stomach growled with hunger despite the carefully portioned dinner I'd eaten.
But I stopped in front of the full-length mirror anyway.
The girl looking back at me was almost unrecognizable.
The weight I'd lost over the past two weeks showed everywhere. My face was slimmer and my cheekbones more defined. My arms had actual muscle definition now instead of just soft curves.
I lifted my shirt slowly.
Those rolls of fat that I used to cry over in the shower, the ones that made me think very dark thoughts every time I looked down, they were basically gone. My stomach was flat as a board, almost dipping inwards
I should have felt triumphant.
Instead, I just felt... a little empty.
Suddenly, the phone buzzed on the nightstand. I looked at it to find another News alert.
DAWSON HEIR MAKES STRONG RECOVERY - Specialist From Johns Hopkins Oversees Treatment
The photo showed Jace in a hospital bed, his leg raised up in some contraption, looking pale and tired with dark bags under his eyes, but awake.
Allison sat beside him, her appearance from her clothes to her hair to her makeup, perfectly put together even in the sterile hospital room as she held his hand. The caption called them "Westbrook High’s Golden Couple."
I stared hard at the picture.
Maybe they would be one of those couples who got married right after graduation.
Jace would join his father's company and become some corporate billionaire titan, while Allison would become the perfect trad wife, hosting charity galas and country club brunches for fellow socialites.
I scrolled through my contacts, my finger hovering over his name.
Jason Leslie Dawson.
We hadn't spoken since the field. Since I'd kissed Noah while Jace watched from the ambulance.
Since the strange ominous text that had come through later that night saying: Enjoy your victory. It won't last long.
I still didn't know if it was from him. After all, he’d been on his phone at the time the message was sent. I’d seen him with my own eyes.
I should delete his number. Block him and move on forever. And yet…
My finger hovered over the call button.
Just before I could press it, I slammed my phone face down on the nightstand and sighed.
What would I even say? Sorry, I found out you'd already been dating Allison for six months while making out with me? Or maybe thanks for almost destroying my life multiple times?
It made no sense that I would still somehow miss him.
But I did.
I missed his loud music blaring through the halls. The way he messed around with Martin, the blush-inducing V and the happy trail that dipped below his sweats.
His surprisingly good attempts at making me breakfast. The way he'd looked at me in that storage room like I was the only thing that mattered, kissing me for the first time.
"Lena?"
Noah's voice came from the bed we'd started sharing sometime during the second week of break.
Nothing really happened, we usually just slept. Sometimes when one of us got too cold at night, we'd knock on the other person’s door across the hall then curl up together for warmth, listening to the rain outside.
I had a heated blanket that I always conveniently left under a pile of dirty laundry. I much preferred to hold him during those nights, I liked him a lot better than a piece of cloth.
It was fake dating that felt less fake every day.
"You know you shouldn't be here," I said, but I was already walking toward the bed. "We're only pretend dating."
"Come here." He patted the space beside him.
I climbed in, and immediately his warm solid arms came around me.
"You did so good today," he murmured into my hair, his hand stroking gentle circles on my back. "I'm proud of you."
"You did so well. Well is the correct word." I reminded him gently.
"Of course, what would I do without your literary wisdom?" Noah laughed.
I giggled in response, "Right, sorry. And thank you, that really means a lot." I said that, although the words sounded smaller than I intended them to.
"School starts back in a week." Noah kissed my forehead, then my cheek, then my lips; always in that order, like a ritual. "Tell me what you want to do in New York."
Maybe it was exhaustion, or the way he was looking at me, his eyes dark and intense. Maybe it was just wanting to feel something other than emptiness.
"You," I said.
Noah's eyes widened, then he laughed surprised to hear it, "Jesus, Lena. That's so non-PG coming from you. Who taught you that?"
I laughed too, burying my face in his shoulder, feeling my cheeks burn with embarrassment. "I know. I'm sorry."
It was hard not to think about things like sex, when a guy like him was holding me. But maybe someday...
We lay there for a moment, his fingers playing with my hair, comfortable silence settling around us.
Then I pulled back slightly.
"There is one thing though."
Noah's expression shifted, growing more serious. "What's up?"
I bit my lip, trying to figure out how to say it. How to explain the weird hollow feeling in my chest, how I didn't recognize myself anymore, and that I missed someone I was supposed to hate.
"I think…" I started, then stopped, fiddling anxiously with my fingers.
"Hey." Noah cupped my face gently, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. We're in this together, remember?"
I looked at him. Perfect, perfect Noah who'd given me everything I thought I wanted. Confidence, and friends. Revenge and a spot on the cheerleading squad.
A new body… A new life.
Everything except the one thing I hated to admit that I still wanted.
"I think I need to see Jace before we leave," I whispered.
Noah's hand went still in my hair.
The room went very, very quiet as I waited for his response.