Page 26 of Reconnected Hearts
But how?
I’ve tried the honesty route. Didn’t stick. Same with guilting and the silent treatment. And, clearly, he’s not affected by aggression—passive or otherwise. If he was, I’d have been rid of this excitable golden retriever hours ago.
“—and then there was a snowmobile accident that’s famous to this day because she wrote an iconic song about it and?—”
His constant ramblings are sweet, I admit. But they’re too much. They leave me no room to think right now. I can feel myself being slowly drawn into him, my heart attaching itself despite my very best efforts. I have to stop it.
“—so then at the Grammys?—”
“Noah, shut up,please. I’ve got a headache.”
I don’t know why I thought that would work. I’m not lucky enough for it to be that easy.
When he stops and stares at me, I almost start to feel bad. But the only reaction I get is a pause in the flood of information, a little smirk, and then he’s right back to his rambling.
“As I was saying, the Grammys. So people started booing him and?—”
I have no choice but to plug in my headphones and drown him out because I’m oddly starting tolikethe soothing tone of his rambles. God help me.
I thought I could control my own feelings. I thought I was above hormonal impulses.
I guess I was wrong.
I’ve been wrong entirely too much lately.
CHAPTER14
NOAH
She’s so close to me. I think that if I listen hard enough, I could hear her heartbeat thumping beneath the tank top that hugs her just right. I can smell her perfume. I can feel the warmth of her body brushing up against my arm.
I suggested we watch a movie when she began to get tired of me talking (and I kind of ran out of things to say), but never in a million years did I imagine that, somehow, we would move closer and closer together on the lumpy, hotel couch until our legs were brushing together, like a cruel taunt.
I’m not even aware of what’s playing on the TV anymore. I can’t focus on anything but Lucy—her scent, her body, her presence. I’m aware of every time she laughs or sighs or hums orbreathes.
It’s absolutely miserable.
I can’t do this. I have to repeat the same thing to myself over and over again, hoping that maybe it might finally sink in.
She’s not mine to want, she’s not mine to want, she’s not mine to want, she’s not?—
Nope. Still want her.
I quickly stand, startling Lucy. She looks up at me, disgruntled.
I have no explanation to offer her. I stand there at a loss for words like an idiot for much longer than I should before I finally stutter my way through an excuse. “I gotta go make a call. Be right back.”
Lucy starts to speak, but I rush into the bedroom before she has a chance to get a word out.
So cool, I know.
I collapse onto the bed and let my back sink into the mattress. How strange to think that twenty-four hours ago, I had no idea just how up close and personal Lucy and I would be getting with this duvet. It’s incredible, really, how fast things can change. Lucy would know better than anyone, considering she changes her mind about me in the blink of an eye. I’m convinced she has a Magic 8 Ball hidden somewhere in her bag that’s making all of her decisions for her. It’s the only rational explanation for her behavior.
I figure that, since I lied through my teeth to catch my breath away from Lucy, I may as well call home and check on things. At least then I’ll have a believable story to feed to Lucy when she inevitably drills me over my strange exit.
It’s nearly dinner time, which means my father will just be leaving for work, and hopefully Lila and Iris will be back from afterschool art club.
I dial my mom’s number. She’s quick to answer, but I can hear running water and background chatter, so she’s almost certainly busy—but then again, she always is. “Hey there, sweetie!”
