Page 77 of Lift Me Up

His shoes are sopping, stumbling and slipping on my floor.

He rubs the back of his neck, cheeks flushed, "I climbed. You have fire escapes, I have feet, I just hid under the balconies in between the big gusts of wind."

"You're soaked." I tut, moving to get him out of his cold, wet clothes, but he steps away, nearly slipping again.

"You weren't answering my calls again, Georgie. I didn't know what else to do."

"Text me? Like a normal person?" I tell him, trying and failing to step toward him again. This dance we do is about to become stepping on toes.

He huffs out a frustrated laugh, "What, so you could ignore me again there too? Yeah, not a chance. I have things to say, and I am not about to say them through a green bubble."

"If you got an iPhone, it would've been a blue bubble," I say, trying and failing to lighten the mood and he glares at me.

He rubs at his temple, shaking his head so the water droplets splatter from his hair to the floor. "Georgie, please. I'm trying to grand gesture here."

"Don't." I shake my head, swallowing down the burning feeling of wanting to scream those three words revealing my heart’s secrets. I love you. Better yet, I think I hate that I love you. “Don’t do it.”

"Why can't I? I need to know that I did all I could. If it's not enough, I will walk away. But at least let me talk, even if you have nothing to say back. Please?"

Taking the flowers from him, I nod to give him the go ahead. The flowers are a soft mauve purple pink that reminds me of one of the lipsticks I have in my makeup case. I smile as I touch their delicate petals, only a few damaged in his climb in the rain. I look up to see him still dripping where he stands. "Please change your clothes first. I’d hate for you to get a cold."

"That’s now how colds work—" He goes to argue more, but I raise an eyebrow at him, and he resigns without another word, slipping past me to grab clean, dry clothes where he's kept them in a drawer of my dresser.

I can't remember when we became this domesticated, but it makes my heart hurt to think about the discussions we're about to have and how this all might change. And as I expected, the moment I saw him all the fear, the anxiety, the anger, it all faded away again. Caring about Noah and his well-being and his feelings comes first. It's another reason why falling in love is dangerous.

"Have you eaten? I could go for a pizza right about now if you want to order one, and we can talk while we wait—" Noah continues to chatter, pulling his shirt down over his glorious body, and I look up to realize he must have asked me something I didn’t respond to.

I clear my throat, "What?"

"I asked if this was okay, my being here and invading your space again.”

"I'll live." I tease, trying to make a lighthearted comment.

He nods. "Where's Birdie? It’s not like her to not come running to me."

Noah starts searching for her and I can’t help but start crying, cursing myself for breaking the perfect composure I'd maintained up until this point.

"Georgie?" he says my name softly, concern written all over his face. I try to pull away, shaking my head and barely putting up a fight. "What is it?"

"They... they took her, Noah. They gave her away to a family with a workaholic father, a stressed-out mother, and two snot-nosed kids who are going to ruin her. You. You all gave her to them." I pace back and forth, wiping at my tears.

He pulls away to look me in the eyes, "Georgie, I voted for her to stay with you. As if I would choose anyone else for her to stay with. She's your dog; you're her person. I didn't even know you were thinking about adopting her until I saw your application but I was so happy to see it. It was nearly unanimous that she would stay with you. I have no idea how this happened, but I can find out for you. Wait is... is this why you've been avoiding me? You really thought I had a part in losing Birdie?"

"No. I mean, I hoped you were not part of it. And I guess my being a sad sack was just the most recent reason for pulling away," I say honestly, looking away from him in shame.

"There's more than one?" He says, sounding wounded.

"I... There's a lot going on. Like more than a lot." Tears brimming, I blurt, "But I think we should break up?"

Noah looks as though the wind has been knocked out of him. He looks like he's going to be ill. But he maintains as much of his composure as he can, "You don't seem very confident in that decision."

The truth is, I don't know how to respond to that.

Noah swallows once, twice, running a hand through his still-soaked hair, his t-shirt pulling tight across his arms. “Georgie, I can’t take this on and off, hot and cold game we’re playing here. You promised you wouldn’t push me away; you wouldn’t shut me out. You’re doing just that, over and over again. I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt; I tried to give you space. I’ve tried and tried and all I got was radio silence. For fucks sakes, Georgie. You were in the hospital, you could have died, and you wouldn’t even let me come see you. Do you know how shitty that made me feel?”

I feel like he's taking every possible hurtful thing he can think of, and he's stabbing me with words we left unspoken. And the worst part is, I deserve every single blow he sends my way. I did this, I let us become this way. I didn't end things soon enough, because I was happy and I wanted him to stay even if I knew it meant a broken heart in the future. I didn’t consider how his heart would fare, and that’s what makes me feel the worst.

He continues before I can speak, “I… I couldn’t eat or sleep or think, because I couldn’t imagine the amount of pain you were in, or how alone you felt in the hospital by yourself and the fact that I wanted to be there to hold your hand and you just… you told them to send me away. Do you know how gutted I felt? It makes me feel like you don’t want me. Like I’m not good enough for you or⁠—”