Chapter 97 Chapter Ninety Seven
Chapter Eighty-Six
The question hung in the air between us, still unanswered even after ten seconds of staring at him, dumbfounded like an idiot.
Do you still love Jace?
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
The answer should have been simple.
No. Of course not. After everything he'd done, everything he'd put me through—
But I simply couldn’t make myself say the words.
My mind spun through a thousand justifications, a thousand different explanations for why I couldn’t just be honest, but my throat had closed up completely.
Meanwhile, Noah’s expression turned dark."That's what I thought." He turned to leave.
"Wait—please," I begged desperately, shutting the door and standing in front of it to stop him from leaving. "It's not—of course I don't love him. I mean… love is such a strong word. I don't know if that's even what I'd call it, but—"
"But what, Lena?" Noah cut me off, his voice eerily calm. "I think I’ve heard more than enough. I don’t need you repeating the same new lines over and over again.”
He sighed deeply, “You’re not sure about it yet, and you need more time to figure out your feelings because maybe there's still something there? Does it get any deeper than that? No. It doesn’t.”
"That's not what I meant—"
"Get out of my way, Lena.” He demanded, but I stayed put.
I shook my head no. I absolutely would not let him leave me because there was no telling if I could ever convince him to come back after that.
“You know I have no actual claim on you." He stood, shoving his hands in his pockets. "We aren't really together and this whole thing has been fake from the start. I get that."
The word fake hit like a punch to the gut.
"But after all the time we spent together these past few weeks—" His voice cracked slightly before he caught himself. "I at least thought it would be enough to keep you from running back to him the second he called."
"I wasn't running back to him! Please stop poking at things that way. I was just worried about him, being hospitalized and all, and so I felt guilty and I thought it would be okay to reach out to him, and—"
"It doesn't matter what you were trying to do." Noah's eyes met mine, full of cold disappointment. "What matters is what you actually did. And clearly, I can't get in the way of how you actually feel, so it’s time to end this."
"I don't understand." My hands were shaking. "What do you mean?"
Noah walked to the door, then paused with his hand on the frame.
"The plan is over, Lena."
My stomach dropped. "What?"
"You're obviously in no condition to seek revenge on Jace if you're going to be running to him every time he snaps his fingers."
His voice was flat and cold, "I'll just have to find someone else who can help me do it."
Panic clawed up my throat so fast I struggled to breathe.
“But what about the plan?” I asked, “We shook on it, I mean kissed, whatever. I mean what about everything we'd worked toward? My spot on the cheerleading squad, my new friends, my new life—it all depends on you. On us.”
"I know my story is hard to believe," I said quickly, trying to be as convincing as I could. "And I don't blame you for doubting me. But please—what do I have to do to convince you that I'm still on your side?"
Noah paused.
The silence stretched long enough that I thought he might just leave without answering.
Then he turned slightly, looking at me over his shoulder.
"Hm." He made a thoughtful sound. "I have an idea."
Hope flickered in my chest, so when I saw the opportunity, I rushed to take it. "Anything. I'll do anything."
"Go about your day. Do your normal routine. Tutor Martin." His expression was unreadable. "I'll call you when it's time. I need to make some arrangements first."
I swallowed hard, unsure. "If I do that... If I do whatever it is you’re planning, will you forgive me?"
Noah didn't answer.
Instead, he very gently pulled me out of the way and then walked out, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts and the distant sound of the front door closing.
"Okay, what do we have here?"
I tried to sound as enthusiastic as I could while settled into the chair beside Martin at the study table, but it came out hollow even to my ears.
My phone sat face down next to my textbook, silenced but still lighting up every few seconds with notifications that I refused to look at.
Martin pushed his history worksheet toward me with a frustrated grunt. "I don't understand any of it."
I scanned the assignment. The History of American Football: From Its Origins to the Modern NFL. Discuss the evolution of the game and its cultural significance.
Of course. Of all the topics in the world.
"It can’t be that difficult,” I said automatically, though my heart wasn't in it. "Let's break it down together. What part exactly are you stuck on?"
"All of it." Martin crossed his arms. "I don't really care about old football. I care about now football, the one football Jace plays."
At the mention of Jace's name, my chest grew tight, but I ignored the feeling so I could concentrate.
"Well, understanding where something came from helps you appreciate what it is now," I said, pulling the worksheet closer. "Look, it says here that American football evolved from rugby. Do you know what rugby is?"
"No."
"Okay, so—"
My phone lit up again. I could see the notification preview even face-down: @WestbrookTea: UPDATE - Mystery girl identified as...
I flipped it completely over, screen down on the table.
"Are you okay?" Martin asked, his head tilting to the side while he searched my face.
"I'm fine. Let's focus on your assignment."
We worked through the material slowly.
Normally I loved the challenge of figuring out how to reach him, but today, everything felt just like I was wading through mud.
"Jace could probably help with this," Martin said suddenly, staring at a diagram of an early football formation. "He knows everything about football. It’s a shame he’s he's still in the hospital, I miss him."
My hand stopped moving on the worksheet.
I knew Jace had already been discharged, because I'd seen him just this morning, walking around perfectly fine and planning a trip all the way to Turks and Caicos.
How come his family didn’t even know about it? I wondered.
"Yeah," I said carefully. “I guess so.”
"Mom says he's getting better every day though." Martin smiled, that pure, uncomplicated happiness children often had, innocently believing that the people he loved would always be okay. "She's going to visit him tonight. Maybe she'll bring him home soon and we can hang out again.”
I went a little pale, because I knew she definitely wouldn't find him there.
I should tell someone, I thought. Mrs Dawson should know her son, heir to the Dawson fortune had checked himself out against medical advice and that he was planning to leave the country on an injured leg to do God knew what without protection.
Who knew what would happen if he fell into the wrong hands? Oh, what if he got hurt again?
But I'd been warned explicitly by Mrs Dawson to stay away from Jace and stop involving myself in his life. She had threatened me with police action if any more "harassment" allegations came up, even though she apologised about it later and gave me another work bonus.
So that was settled, but still…
"Lena? Can you hear me?”