Page 38 of Catching My Dreams

His mom rested her hands on the table and leaned forward. “You thought the girl who used to complain about doing community service made over a dozen casseroles for her ex-boyfriend’s mother?”

Okay, so he would also get the prize for the stupidest man alive. “Kind of.”

She pursed her lips. “And when you thanked her, she didn’t set you straight?”

And the award for the most gullible man alive also went to him. “No, she didn’t.” His fingers curled into fists, the bruised knuckles on his right hand aching with the movement.

Her eyes narrowed. “What a bitch.”

“Mom!”

“What? It’s true, isn’t it?”

Noah stared at her in shock before his composure broke, and he grinned. “Yeah, it’s true.”

His mom sighed. “I never liked her. Ella, on the other hand…”

“Mother,” Noah groaned, shifting uncomfortably.

She chuckled, looking far too happy about his discomfort. “All I’m saying is she’s a sweet girl.”

“Yeah.” He looked down at his plate of food, seeing it in an entirely new light. “She really is.”

For years, Noah had found reasons to see Ella as selfish, as shallow. Seeing her that way had allowed him to explain away why she’d started ignoring him out of the blue. Seeing her that way had allowed him to stay angry at her for abandoning him. Seeing her that way had allowed him to make believe that she’d stopped being his friend because she wasn’t a nice person.

But it was becoming more and more clear that she’d stopped being friends with him because of him. Because she’d somehow seen what he hadn’t: that he wasn’t worth her time. That he simply wasn’t good enough for her.

12

“Ella!”

She recognized Noah’s voice, but Ella kept walking. She didn’t have the energy for whatever emotional torture he wanted to put her through.

“Ella!” The shout was closer. Ella sped up her steps, but Noah caught up to her in seconds. He ran in front of her, blocking her path and ensuring that she couldn’t keep ignoring him. “Ella, please.”

She couldn’t even muster up a glare. “Not today, Noah. Just…not today.”

His brows pulled together as he took her in with what looked like genuine concern. Ella knew what he was seeing: the puffy and dark circles under her eyes, her unwashed hair tied up in a sloppy bun, her pale face.

“Are you okay?”

“Peachy,” she replied, her voice flat despite the dryness she’d intended. She shifted her bookbag higher on her shoulder. “I need to get to class.”

She tried to walk around him, but Noah simply stepped to the side and into her way. It was funny how, months earlier, she would have been thrilled that he was purposefully seeking her out, and now she was torn between crying and punching him in his sickeningly perfect face.

“I know it was you. You made the food for my mom.”

Ella’s jaw clenched. “Is that so?”

Noah was looking at her like he didn’t know what to make of her. “Why didn’t you say anything yesterday?”

She was no longer torn. Punching him in his stupid face was the clear winner. “I don’t know, Warner.” The dryness she’d failed at earlier made its appearance. “Maybe it’s because you implied I was a selfish cow after revealing that you thought Madison had been the one to spend hours of her time cooking for your mother.”

He winced. “I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot.”

“Yes, you are, and apology not accepted.”

Noah swallowed, and Ella looked away from his throat before she did something stupid like think he was sexy.

---