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The photographers.
Kids at school.
Ben.
The guy at the costume party.
Ryan.
Their flippant words and cruel taunts spun around my head until the truck felt too crowded, and my skin felt too tight until I was itching to get out into the fresh air.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t—
“You should probably get out here,” Noah’s voice pierced my thoughts, “so no one sees the truck. I’ll be back later.”
“W-what?” I stared at him, confused. Then I realized the truck was idling on the street.
Surely, he wasn’t going to abandon me on the side of the road.
“The house is only a two-minute walk in that direction.” He pointed up the street.
“I know where the house is, Noah. I just… I don’t understand what’s happening.” I don’t understand why you’re doing this.
“I need to handle some things,” he clipped out, barely looking at me. “But I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
His eyes flicked past me to the door, and without another word, I stumbled out, completely dumbfounded.
I’d barely gotten the door shut before the truck took off down the street, my fragile heart cracking in my chest.
Noah had been so persistent. He’d pushed and pushed for this.
One date.
One more night.
I stupidly thought—hoped—the night would end with us together, picking up where we left off last night. So, what the hell had just happened?
I didn’t know what to think.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe Noah had left me for a better offer.
CHAPTER 22
NOAH
I stumbled out of the Uber and up the driveway.
It was a miracle I could even stand after the copious amounts of vodka coursing through my bloodstream. But the second I’d dropped Aurora back at the house, I’d dumped Connor’s truck outside Lakers House and walked to the nearest bar.
Thankfully, it wasn’t a popular haunt with LU students, and I’d managed to get a table in the back to drink my sorrows away in private.
Timothy fucking Holden.
The bane of my existence.
The man I hated more than anything else on the planet.
