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That stupid nickname.
My eyes burn with unshed tears as I contemplate my next move. Seconds pass before I spring into action, certain that the quicker I am, the less likely Noah is to do any real damage. “Where are my bags, Will?”
Will squeaks out, “In the bedroom closet.”
My legs burn as I race up the stairs, taking them two at a time. On the landing, I stumble on my undone shoelace, righting myself as I move through the house.
Pushing into the bedroom, my focus is on the partially closed closet door. When I pull it open, I send up a silent prayer that my bags don’t appear to have been opened. A quick look inside each confirms everything is still in them.
Throwing one bag onto my shoulder and the other onto my forearm, I run through the room, down the hallway, and then the stairs. My sneakers squeak on the hardwood floor as I step off of the last step.
Moving toward the front door, I call, “Noah, I’ve got them. Let’s go.”
Releasing Will, Noah steps back, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. From my position by the now open front door, I can’t hear what Noah says to Will before he follows me to the door. But I don’t miss the way his shoulders relax as he steps over the threshold and into the warm July air.
The sun beats down on us and as Noah falls into step next to me. He takes one of the bags from me, throwing it over his shoulder as we walk to the town car parked just down the street.
I can practically hear his mind whirling as he processes what’s just happened.
Unable to listen to him tell me, yet again, what a poor choice I have in men, I speak up before he can. “I don’t want to hear it, Noah. And don’t you dare tell Jack what happened. Something is wrong with Will, because whoever that was back there.” I point in the direction of the house. “That wasn’t the guy I was dating.”
Holding his hands up, he replies, “I won’t tell him. I promise.”
I stop next to the car, throwing my hands on my hips and staring him down. “And what the heck was that? Telling him you’re my boyfriend? I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.”
Noah opens the door, indicating for me to get in before he replies, “I know you don’t.”
On the drive back to his apartment, as we sit in comfortable silence, I shut down the voice that’s questioning why he called himself my boyfriend and why I felt the way I did when he said it.
Regardless of the reason, it should never have happened.
ELEVEN
Savannah
This past week has flown by. I’ve barely had time to breathe, let alone sleep. I’m definitely running on empty, operating in a haze of what’s become a habit.
I’m walking back to Noah’s from my fifth shift at O’Malley’s Bar this week. If every week for the next twelve carries on like this—I’ll likely be dead—but, I should have enough for a deposit and first month's rent for my own place.
Not that my current living situation sucks exactly.
I don’t pay rent. That’s the plus. But I’m also living with the guy I had the biggest crush on in high school and who I’m not sure I’m over. And let’s not forget his amazing girlfriend. I haven’t seen Sutton much since our shopping trip, but when I have, she’s been nothing but kind to me.
In fact, on the rare occasions that I’ve had some downtime and been in the apartment, I haven’t seen or heard much of Sutton or Noah. It’s kind of peculiar. The whole apartment almost feels… abandoned. If it wasn’t for the housekeeper coming in once a week, I’d have thought nobody lives there.
“Mornin’, Billy,” I call to the concierge as I smother a yawn.
“Good morning, Miss O’Riley. I hope you get some sleep at some point this week,” he calls back.
“You ‘n’ me both, Billy. You ‘n’ me both.”
I jab the button for the elevator, willing my eyes to stay open just a few more minutes. When the doors swish open, I step inside and just as I push the button for my floor and lean against the back wall, a voice calls out.
“Hold the elevator, please.”
Lunging forward, my finger hovers over the door close button as my sleep addled brain processes the arrow direction. Seconds before the doors close fully, I jab the door open button and they spring open. A stunning woman dressed all in black steps in, struggling with a box that she places on the floor.
Her caramel highlighted hair is tied into a messy bun on top of her head and a light sheen of perspiration covers her brow.
