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We said goodbye to Evan and parted ways.
??
A yellow cab pulled up to the curb as Noah opened the door for me. I moved into the passenger seat and stared out the window, determined to keep conversation to a minimum.
“You’re so quiet.” Noah broke the silence.
“Nothing on my mind.”
Tension lingered between us, and I knew I was responsible for it. Amidst my rampant jealousy, I still had some functioning logic. It wasn’t Noah’s fault that Cammie had thrown herself at him. Yes, that was an exaggeration—but I was sure she wanted all that sexy Hunter hotness all over her.
“Is it just me or is it colder than Alaska in here at the moment?” Noah said.
“I’m just tired. I can’t wait to get home and sleep.”
“I’m not taking you back to your place. We’re going to the penthouse.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to take Cammie up there instead?”
So much for hiding my jealousy.
“Is that why you’re giving me the cold shoulder?” He smiled amusingly, which only annoyed me more. This wasn’t a laughing matter. Cammie was a threat; a lethalwatch-her-like-a-hawk-or-she’ll-steal-your-guykind of threat.
“Come here.” Noah stretched out his arm.
“I’m good. Thanks.” I stayed apathetic.
“Cammie’s just a friend, Aria. You don’t have to be jealous—waste of energy.”
“I’m not jealous! I just don’t feel like cuddling!”
“Okay… sorry.”
I had failed at doing the whole “nothing’s wrong, I’m good, I’m fine” kinda deal. My insecurity was obvious, and my natural reaction was to act indifferent and pretend like I wasn’t bothered at all. It was a tough front I put on to protect myself: a defense mechanism.
“Are you feeling hungry at all?” Noah asked.
“No.”
“Thirsty?”
“No.”
He reached for my hand, but I pulled away.
“You know, Aria, sometimes I forget how old you really are.”
Ouch.
I had three choices now: sob in silence, unleash my fury, or give him the ever-torturous silent treatment. I was tired of option one… didn’t particularly enjoy option two, and optionthree wasn’t all that great either, because I knew he absolutely hated it.
Noah’s done nothing wrong. I’m overreacting.
Our relationship was not a game of chess, yet I was deliberately placing myself on the opposite end: a black queen vs. an army of white. I’d lost all my pawns, knights, rooks, and bishops. The king that I was supposed to protect symbolized my pride, and I knew it would be an easy victory for Noah since he had me as a checkmate. I didn’t want to be his opponent. I wanted to be on the same side protecting him, not my puffed-up pride.
“I’m sorry,” he sighed in frustration. “I just need you to communicate with me. How can I know what I did wrong if you don’t tell me?”
“You did nothing. It’s me—it’s just that time of the month.”
