Page 37 of Reconnected Hearts
I raise an amused eyebrow and gesture at the paperback. “And the book?”
Noahhmphsand crosses his legs, opening one of his magazines and nonchalantly flipping through it. “I’m sick ofLittle Women.”
How can anyone be sick of Little Women?I barely hold back a scoff.Sick of Little Women.Yeah, right. He’s got to be the worst liar in the entire world. If he ever tries poker, he’s inmajortrouble.
I decide to not comment on his little remark and make myself busy with my new book instead. It’s alright. Nothing special, but it’s enough to keep me entertained at least. It’s got a stereotypical girl with a stereotypical dog that dies a stereotypical death.
Boring.
Not that Noah needs to know that. As far as he’s concerned, it’s a masterpiece.
And luckily, he wouldn’t know a real masterpiece if it hit him right across the face.
Minus a few uncomfortable occasions where we catch each other staring, Noah and I don’t exchange another word until it comes time to board the flight. Knots twist in my stomach as we wait in line to scan our boarding passes. Then vomit threatens to spew out of me as we shuffle single-file onto the plane. Then an urge to break a window and run away almost overwhelms me as we approach Economy. I know my time is running out.
Row 21 seat C. There it is. My new seat.
My new seat away from Noah.
Walking behind him, he doesn’t notice at first when I slide into the aisle seat.
But he certainly realizes when he reaches Row 24 and I’m not next to him anymore.
I know I should look away, but I can’t. I watch him search for me, scanning every seat until he finally finds me. Our eyes meet, and I see his face crumble. His shoulders slump and his lips part, as if he wants to say something to me but he doesn’t know what.
I think he might stand there and stare at me forever, but he gets shoved into his seat by a burly man trying to get past. I want to get up and pick a fight with the man for being a dick to Noah, but it’s not my place. I know that. And I also know that as much as that shoulder to Noah’s chest might have hurt, I hurt him tenfold.
It’s for the best.That’s what I have to tell myself. I’m doing the right thing by putting distance between us. I can’t hurt him anymore.
But somehow, when I meet Noah’s betrayed stare, I know that just isn’t true.
CHAPTER20
NOAH
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse…
I should have known she would change seats. I should've expected it. Our relationship has been a rollercoaster from the very second we were trapped together. It's been a constant push and pull, a dance of conflicting emotions and misunderstandings. It only makes sense that she would need some space, especially after everything that's happened.
Yet I was still caught so terribly off-guard.
Not only was I caught off-guard by her moving, but also I was caught off-guard by being so disappointed about it. I know things have been complicated between us, and I know I haven't always handled it in the best way, but I didn't want her to leave. I wanted to watch her read her book, sip her diet soda, and look at me with that expression on her face that I can never quite decipher. I guess I just thought that we would have a chance to talk, to find some sort of resolution before we parted ways. I wasn’t expecting her to leave me behind without so much as asayonara.
But I guess she made her choice. There’s nothing I can do to change it, so why bother? At least I get to sit alone. No weird old guys, no annoying kids, no Lucy. It’s perfect. It’s just how I want it.
Who am I kidding?
This sucks.
I sit there, watching her read her stupid book like some pervert. I’m sure there have already been complaints about me from the other surrounding passengers.
The creepy guy in Row 24 won’t stop staring at this poor girl. I’m worried for her safety.
I’m just so angry. Not even at Lucy—not really—but at everything. I’m angry at the weather for trapping me with her. I’m angry at the airline for making me sit next to her. And most of all, I’m angry at myself for ruining it all. I made her hate me when we were kids. I picked fights with her. I never bothered to get to know her. I was sostupid. If only I had talked to her—actuallytalked to her—maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe she would have given me a chance. Maybe she wouldn’t see me as such a bad guy.
Maybe she wouldn’t be sitting by a stranger who has no idea how much she lovesLittle Womenor how her glasses slide down her nose early in the morning before she’s gone to the effort of putting in contacts, or how, for the briefest moment, she let me be a part of her life, and it completely changed mine.
Fate has taught me a lesson—it’s not to be trusted. Fate is a bunch of bullshit for people naïve enough to believe the bad things in life must have a purpose. They don’t. Of course they don’t. Bad stuff happens for no reason. Families lose their homes, girls have their hearts broken by men who don’t realize the fragility of love, and painful pining goes unnoticed by even the most observant of people.
