Page 11 of Falling for Fury

“Look, one coffee. Doesn’t have to be today. You have my card. Text me sometime. Or call me, whatever floats your boat.” I wink at her then and make my way back to my table and attempt to calm my breathing and my heart rate, which picked up from the proximity to her and those fucking strawberries.

Real smooth, Noah.

She remains standing in place, blinking, before she grabs her stuff and rushes out of the shop without so much as a goodbye. I release a breath I had no idea I was holding as I track her steps across the street, walking away from me.

Reminder: go see the doctor about strange chest pains.

Addison

After my attempt at getting out of the house to study and instead having my time stolen—yet again—by Noah, I end up at my apartment, exhausted—yet again. I can’t work out why his insistent playfulness and stupid sexy grin grate on my nerves so much, but looking at his smug face makes me want to rage out. I slam the apartment door as I enter, cursing under my breath, and quickly realizing I am going to need an outlet before I rage flip the dining table and smash a window. GOD, why does someone like him get all the good looks, the successful life thing, confidence of a fucking mad man, AND happiness? I just get unwarranted rage that prickles under my skin for no apparent reason.

I think about that smirk you gave me.

…learn more about you and where all that resilient strength came from.

I ignore the flips my belly does and the butterflies taking flight inside me as I recall the strange way we left things.

“Oookay, we are just going to take a few deep breaths…” I straighten, not realizing that my actions have been witnessed by Rosie, who is leaning on the door frame of her bedroom watching me with a look I compare to a zoo keeper trying to trap a lion. I roll my eyes at her and head for my room, before Case intercepts from the couch.

“Hey, hey hey hey. What happened? I thought today was ‘happy-study day’?” she repeats my attempt this morning at having a positive outlook on life.

“Well, of course, that didn’t go as planned because the stupid… that human… giant just had to pick today to show up at JJ’s!” They share a look, probably not missing my stumble on the description of Noah, Casey’s being of shock and concern, Rosie’s being shock and excitement.

“Is that the guy from the party? Oh my god, did you sleep together on the first date?!” Rosie demands.

“Yes, it is the guy from the party, and NO! First of all, it was not a date. I was there, and he intruded on my study plans. Second of all… NO!” I sound very defensive for someone not lying.

“He seems to have… quite the effect on you,” Rosie accuses with wiggly eyebrows.

“What has an effect on me is his stupid permanent smirk, his stupid masculine smell, his stupid… stupid compliments. He doesn’t even know me. He has all the arrogance of a man of privilege who has never understood struggle a day in his life. I am just… ugh.” I ignore my obvious ignorance at my assumptions because, of course, I too am a child of privilege, but I’d bet my trust fund that the tall ray of sunshine would know jack about living with brain chemistry that would rather you existed in an eternal sleep. I roll my eyes at the girls and push past to go to my room because Rosie and Casey are making eyes again, and it is loud enough to hear the words they don’t say. I swear I’m not always such a brat. I miss just coming home and feeling good. Miss walking in the door and relaxing, smiling and laughing with my friends. This is exactly what happens when my routine changes. Being fired has set me off, and my mind has no idea what to do other than panic, cry, rage, and loop me in a never-ending spiral of anxiety.

They both follow me and stop at my doorway as they watch me throw myself face down into my pillow and stifle a scream.

“Ads, c’mon, we’re just playing. We… just haven’t seen you this tied up over someone since… well, ever. You weren’t even this passionate about Jake’s faces and words,” Casey says gently.

“How does hating someone with a passion mean I am lusting all over him?” I ask, not holding back the anger in my question or the look of disgust I throw them as I sit up on my bed. They wander over at that and sit down to join me.

“Maybe it is the constant, ‘Greek god’ and ‘sexy’ words you use to try to describe him?” Rosie adds innocently. I roll my eyes and throw my head back against the pillows.

So he is objectively good looking… okay, fine, he is the literal description of perfect, look up flawless-sex-on-legs, I’m sure the definition is Noah Karvelas. That doesn’t mean anything. If my heart has taught me anything, it’s that you can’t rely on other people to feel loved and worthy. See: Jake, Mom, and Dad.

Even Gods in human form are unreliable.

“Okay. Nope. No more moping and feeling sorry for ourselves. C’mon, you need to freshen up and then we’re going out.” Casey slaps my knee, grabs Rosie by the arm, and gestures for me to head to the bathroom.

“Where are we going? It’s a Monday.” And I’d rather spiral alone, are the words I don’t say.

“Out. Puck & Pint probably.” She shrugs. The Sports bar a few blocks down that has become our local. Mainly a hangout for ice hockey fans, but they show all types of sports on various TVs, including NBA, which happens to be a favorite of mine. It helps that athletes also sometimes hang out there. “Bulls are playing, and I know tall sexy men are your kryptonite, so we are going to put a smile on that dial.” Casey leaves the room, signaling we have no choice in this matter. Rosie claps her hands in excitement and gets up from the bed. “Yay, sweaty athletes!” And she skips out. But I cave, simply because the Bulls are my team and… alright, fine, I am a sucker for tall sexy players. I am choosing to ignore the irony of my previous description of Noah.

Casey and I stand in the kitchen, waiting on Rosie as we usually do. Casey fiddles in the pantry making a list, I assume for her next baking extravaganza, but I can’t really focus on anything except the buzzing fury that sits under my skin. It’s not lost on me that I don’t have anything to really be angry about, I’m just agitated. Annoyed at Noah’s insistence. Frustrated at Jessie having the audacity to insert himself. Angry that my grades have been excellent except I’m on a slippery slope I can’t get off of that risks destroying all my hard work.

The rage simmers hot under my skin, and I unzip my jacket and hold it in my arms. “What is taking her so fucking long?” I grumble under my breath, and Casey looks over to me.

“Hey, Addy, why are you crying?”

I angrily swipe at my tears as they betray me and make their way down my cheeks. “I can’t help it.” Because I can’t.

I’m angry for no reason and with no outlet. The furious energy has to leave me one way or another, and this is the only way I know how to get it out.

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