Page 82 of Echoes of Us

He trudged towards his closet again, avoiding eye contact. I frowned and stepped to him.

“I told you I’m fine.”

I nudged his face, making him look at me. His eyes were red. He pulled away and clicked his tongue.

“You don’t look fine.”

He left the room, and I followed. He leaned on the counter and took a deep breath. “I need you to leave me alone, okay?”

“Noah, I’m worried about you. Tell me what’s wrong,” I insisted, placing my hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged me off and served me with a look that reeked of annoyance. “I need space. I need you to give me space.”

“You need space?” I echoed, incredulous.

“Yes.”

“You, the person who doesn’t let me leave for class and sleeps like we’re one pretzel, need space?” I asked.

He glanced away.

“I don’t get it. Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” I pressed.

“I don’t have to tell you everything,” he snapped.

“Is it something with your mom?”

He closed his eyes, ran his hands through his hair, and stepped away again.

“The last time something happened with your mom, you started using again, and the last time I saw you like this, you turned into a vegetable for a week. I think I have cause for concern.”

“You’re not my fucking keeper, Atty.” He stormed out to the terrace.

I took a deep breath. I moved towards the terrace and stood at the door. Noah was leaning against the far wall, looking out.

“I was just worried about you. You don’t have to act like a jerk because I want to know what’s wrong. If I had been locked in the bathroom for an hour and looked like I’d been crying, you’d want to know what was wrong and be there for me. That’s what I was trying to do. I’m going to class. You can text me if you want.” I stormed out too.

I was angry with Noah, but I was worried too. I spent the day glued to my phone, waiting for him to text and tell me he was okay. He never did. He didn’t show up for training and wasn’t there when I got to his apartment. I tried calling him, but he wouldn’t pick up. Desperation set in after a few hours. I called Colin and asked him to give me Holly’s number. I called her and got no answer. Funny, considering she was always looking at her goddamn phone.

At seven, the elevator chimed, and Noah sauntered in. I approached him, and he glanced at me before heading to the kitchen.

“Hey,” he said simply.

I turned on the lights, and he made a face.

“Noah, where the hell were you?”

He grabbed a bag of chips and a beer. I stood in his way before he could leave the kitchen. His eyes were half-lidded and red. He was stoned.

“Out,” he answered, pushing past me.

Fine. I dashed towards his room and grabbed my bag. I picked up my phone from the couch and slung my bag over my shoulder. Noah was sitting on the couch, eating chips.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.” I headed for the door.

Noah got up from the couch and followed me. “Why?” He looked alarmed.

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