Page 12 of After All This Time

I’ve never felt so free, and I can finally move on.

For five years, I’ve been able to live my life without the constant need to prove myself to a man I despise.

Five fucking years.

And now, here we are.

Noah’s sitting in a chair in front of me with a dumb smirk plastered all over his face.

I stand in front of him, feeling the temperature of my body increasing within seconds.

I want to punch him in the face so badly.

He tilts his head slightly, folding his arms in front of his chest. “Why don’t you take a picture? It’ll last longer.”

“Usually when a person takes a picture, it’s something they want to remember. I don’t need to remember how much of an asshole you are.”

“And I don’t need to remember how much of a bitch you are.”

I roll my eyes, sticking my middle finger up at him. “Fuck you.”

“I don’t think that would be appropriate. We are in a hospital.”

“It’s a figure of speech.”

“To you, maybe. But, it’s not to me.”

Our moms decided to hang out at the end of the hallway. All so Noah and I can hash out the last five years of pent-up anger in peace. I mean if you want to call what we’re doing peaceful.

A small smile appears on my face. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here?”

“You know, I was…” He pauses for a brief moment. “Then, I realized I don’t give a shit.”

“That’s fine, just know I’m not leaving.”

His eyes work up my body, starting at my legs and landing back on my face.

What is he doing? He needs to cut that shit out.

I raise an eyebrow. “What the hell are you doing?”

“There’s been something that’s been bothering me for years.”

“And what’s that?”

“How can you look like this when you’re made of stone on the inside?”

“Funny, I could ask you the same thing.” I grin, blinking my eyes and staring at him afterward.

He sits there, not moving a muscle and allowing the awkward air to rapidly surround us. He notices I’m staring at him. “What the hell are you looking at?” He crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“You kinda froze there. Oh my God, are you malfunctioning?” Sarcasm is present in my voice.

“No, I’m not malfunctioning. I’m not a toy. I’m a human being,” he says with a straight face.

I laugh. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.” I breathe out through my nose. “God, why are you like this?”

“Like what?” He presses his lips together, studying my face.

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