“You don’t know what you’re talking about, dots.”
He suddenly looked sad, and it surprised me for a second. I almost wanted to apologize. But I wasn’t the one in the wrong. I wasn’t the one smoking up the supply closet and skipping out on work.
“Stop calling me that, Noah.”
He sighed, and looked away. I couldn’t read the expression on his face, but his body was tense.
“Fine, Linda. I’m getting back to work.”
I almost said something mean, something I would have regretted, but the look on his face made me bite my tongue. He moved past me, his shoulder brushing against mine, and he stepped out into the lobby. The smoke dissipated, scattering out into the theater’s ventilation system, and I hoped none of the customers would notice it.
I sat down on the stool, shaking with anger and confusion. I couldn’t believe him. I knew he had a bad reputation, I knew he did some shit that I didn’t necessarily agree with, but I didn’t realize he was out and out irresponsible. Missing class began to make sense: he was a flake, a player, and he did whatever he wanted. It wasn’t like I cared about smoking weed. Everyone knew that wasn’t a huge deal. But smoking on the job, and leaving all the work to your friends, that wasn’t right. I thought we were beginning to have something, and then he decided to take advantage of me.
All so he could get a little fucked up.
It took me a few minutes to get myself under control. Finally, though, the frustration and the anger subsided into a dull ache. Pushing out of the supply closet and moving out into the lobby, I vowed not to give him any more notes from our class, and I wasn’t going to cover for him again. Let him figure his shit out on his own. I was done doing favors for him if he was just going to skip out on me during the busiest times.
I went back to work, and ignored Noah the best I could. It was easy, since he was clearly not too happy with me. We orbited each other for the rest of the night, doing our jobs, and only interacting when we absolutely had to. Chuck and Mikey kept throwing each other exaggerated looks, and I could only imagine what sort of jokes they were making about us, but I didn’t care. I was sick to death of Noah Carterson, of his drama and his mystery, especially if he was going to fuck me over.
The night dragged on. It was uncomfortable at first, but I quickly learned to adapt. Noah didn’t disappear again, although he didn’t seem particularly motivated to get much done. He helped out, but he was lazy about it, and he kept stealing snacks from the concession stand. Chuck and Mikey thought it was hilarious; even Chelsea didn’t seem to mind much. During the last show, I stood outside of the box office, leaning against the glass and watching Noah throw popcorn at Chuck. I let out an annoyed huff.
“They can be real idiots, huh?” Chelsea asked me.
“You’re not kidding.”
“They’re just going to have to clean all that up, anyway.”
“Noah will probably leave early and make me do it,” I grumbled.
“Trouble in paradise?”
I looked in at her, and she was grinning at me.
“What do you mean?”
“Noah told me about you guys.”
I looked at her, surprised. Noah had talked about me? As far as I knew, there was nothing to tell.
“What did he say?”
She cocked her head at me. “Just that he’s been trying to see more of you. Like, you guys might be a thing, or whatever.”
We might be a thing or whatever? He hadn’t said any of that to me. In fact, he hadn’t talked to me about him and I at all, never even bothered to bring it up. But he was talking to Chelsea about it? I had to admit, as pissed as I was at him, I was pretty confused. And I was partially elated. He wanted to have something with me, whatever that meant. I figured it had to be something more than just hooking up, or else he wouldn’t bother telling someone about it.
“Oh yeah, totally,” I said, trying to be evasive. “Are you two close?”
She shrugged. “We’ve been friends ever since he helped tutor me in math last year. He’s how I got this job, actually.”
“Noah tutored you in math?” I honestly didn’t believe her.
She laughed. “Yeah, he did. Despite what everyone says about him, he’s actually pretty smart.”
I grinned. “I thought the tattoos made him a little slow.”
“Oh, they did. He was a genius before he got inked.”
I laughed. “I have to ask, what else did he say about me?
“He can be a little mysterious, can’t he?”
“Yeah. And an asshole.”
“He can definitely be an asshole,” she said, smiling. “Look, you’ll have to ask him if you want to know.”