“I’m not interested,” I repeated firmly. “Let me go, or I’ll make a scene.”
“I’ll make one for you.” I heard another, familiar voice above me. I looked up at Noah’s face and nearly cried with relief.
Kyle wasn’t quick enough to realize he was in jeopardy and instead said, “Shove off, man, I’ve tagged this one.”
Noah reached down and in one motion pulled Kyle’s hand off mine and me to his side. “She’s not a deer.” His voice was flat, but I could feel the rigidity in his body. While I wasn’t a psych major like Lana, even I could read anger in Noah’s stance.
Kyle stood and held up his hands. “Hey man, she was coming on to me.”
Noah speared him with a glance, and it must have penetrated because Kyle turned on his heel and left.
The little scene went by almost unnoticed. The crowd kept on dancing and drinking. I felt unbalanced, though, and sat clumsily back down on the windowsill.
Noah remained standing, towering over me. He had definitely kept up with an exercise routine since he got out. Even through the cotton of his dark T-shirt and the dim light in the room, I could make out the definition of his chest muscles. The skin was taut across his high cheekbones, and his eyes were dark and piercing. I felt more exposed under his stare than when I had first donned this backless top.
Anger and resentment began to well up in me, and I wanted to throw a beer bottle straight at his face and mar the perfect handsomeness. Although, as I stared at him more closely, I realized he had a bruise forming under his right eye. I wonder if he had fought tonight and with whom. I wanted to know everything, a whole two years of everything. I bit my tongue to keep the questions inside.
Maybe he was white-knighting himself at all of the campus parties, choosing which damsel he would take home. But it wouldn’t be me. I couldn’t place my heart in jeopardy again. An entire year had been lost while I tried to deal with conflicting feelings of sorrow at the loss of him in my life, humiliation at believing he could love me, and anger that he had strung me along. I didn’t know why he was here. While not knowing was terrifying, I didn’t want to suffer more rejection at the hands of Noah Jackson.
I rose. The party was losing its appeal. I should run up to the fourth floor and take a quick picture with my phone and then go home and block out placement for the Alphi Phi photo. But mostly, I felt like going home. I tried brushing by Noah but he caught me by the arm.
“I’ve been waiting for you to call me.” Impatience was etched on his face.
“You’ll wait a long time, then, because I threw your number away.”
“Will you give me a chance to explain?” He rubbed a hand through his hair and settled it at the back of his neck. He leaned forward. “Can we get out of here?”
“You had a chance. You had two years of chances. I don’t know why you’re here, but it has nothing to do with me.” I tried to leave again, but the hand on my arm was immovable. He wasn’t hurting me, but he wouldn’t let me go either. I was never sitting in a window again.
“It has everything to do with you,” he said, his face intense, leaning down to make sure I heard him. An involuntary warmth began to spread through my body, and I tried to beat it back.
“Really? I don’t believe you.” I knew I sounded petulant, but I didn’t care. I just wanted out of there before I let him convince me otherwise. I suspected that if I gave him enough time, Noah could get me to believe pretty much anything.
“I know,” he replied. He sounded frustrated, and I could feel myself weakening again.
We stood there, staring at each other. The crowd of people streamed past us, now just streaks of color caught on low-speed film.
While the crowd had felt oppressive before, it now seemed a safe harbor. Within the mass of people, perhaps I could lose Noah or, even more importantly, myself. I just wasn’t equipped right now to deal with him. Since my previous attempts at disengagement had been unsuccessful, I tried a different tactic.
“I can’t deal with this now.”
“When, then?”
I felt like I was being interrogated, and the sense of injustice threatened to choke me. I wasn’t the one in the wrong. I should be asking the questions, setting the limits, defining our boundaries.
“I don’t know. Two years from now,” I said. Snideness creeping into my tone. Probably a guy who looked like him and kept a girl on the line for four years expected her to lie down and beg to be walked over. I looked down pointedly at his hand still encircling my arm. “You can let go anytime now.”
He released me immediately, and I headed for the stairs to collect Lana or maybe drink myself into oblivion with tequila shots.