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“Fuck if I knew”—he rubbed his neck—“I’m all outta snow.”
“Shit, really?”
“Sorry.”
Noah watched her disappear upstairs before she returned with her girlfriend. Both women were fully dressed.
“It’s been real, but we gotta go.”
He didn’t stop or ask for their numbers. In Noah’s mind, they were just junkies looking to have a good time at his expense. His bedroom had turned into a cheap motel, and the vacancy sign was always on. Standing at the threshold, he observed the chaos: messy sheets, ripped condom wrappers, empty liquor bottles, clothing all over the floor… He had created his own version of Hell, and he couldn’t blame anyone but himself.
Stepping over a pile of laundry, Noah hovered by the window and lit a cigarette while staring out at the city. For the past five years, his drug addiction had robbed him of happiness and ruined any chance of being there for Aria.
I should just end it,he thought in despair.
A bottle of vodka was resting on his windowsill; he hurled it at the wall in anger, watching shards of glass shatter in the air, like the pieces of his shattered life.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
ARIA
Pulling up to a curb, Noah paid our cab driver and joined me on the sidewalk. We couldn’t hold hands or kiss, and I hated it. I would have preferred his arm around my shoulder as we walked together, but that would have looked too intimate. Instead, I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets to avoid touching him.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you look this evening?” Noah said.
“Yes, you have. A few times, actually. But feel free to repeat yourself. I don’t mind,” I flirted with a smile as we entered the exhibit.
The gallery director escorted us down a hallway that led to Evan’s showroom. Progressive house music got louder when we approached a giant hall full of mingling art lovers. My expectations were subverted when I looked at the photographs on the walls.
“Son of a gun,” Noah snickered. “Did you know you were his muse all this time?”
“Are you kidding me? I’m just as surprised as you are!”
There were blown up photos of me…everywhere.
Why didn’t he ask me first?I thought, feeling uncomfortable.
All my pictures were in black and white—mostly shots of me staring off at something or doing everyday tasks. There was one specific photo of me staring into the camera: it was black and white as well, except for my eye color. I remembered when Evan had taken that photo. He had called out to me, and as soon as I had turned around…flash!
“Aria!” Evan waved at me, abandoning the person he was talking to.
He looked so handsome. It was the first time I’d seen him dressed in semi-formal attire. He wore a black dress shirt that was tucked into his black tailored trousers and a white tie. A dark leather belt was fastened around his trim waist, and his black smart shoes complimented his outfit. I especially liked how his piercings and his tattoo gave him a nonconforming edge. He gave me butterflies when he approached. According to my psych professor, it was a normal reaction that almost everyone felt around attractive individuals.
“I’m so glad you made it!” Evan said. “I was thinking you wouldn’t show up.” He embraced me in a lingering hug.
Noah never missed a chance to be the “protective dad” and grilled him.
“What the hell is this?” He glared. “Did you even ask her for permission before you plastered her photos everywhere?”
“Relax, bro. I’m not selling her photos—they’re just part of my show for a limited time of viewing pleasure.”
That was a relief. I didn’t exactly like the idea of someone hanging a giant photo of me in their bathroom or something.
“You still should have asked her first.”
“Noah, it’s fine,” I said. “It’s definitely a surprise, but I’m extremely honored.”
“I think London life only made you crabbier than usual,” Evan said.
