Page 76 of The Fallen
Mend this house.
Convince Noah that we have a future.
Because if I visit Noah, and he rejects me, I’m positive that’s something I won’t be able to get over.
Chapter Twenty Seven
NOAH
I don’t know what I’m doing here, but after the conversation with Landon yesterday, where he seemed to accept this as a possibility, I’m thinking there’s an opportunity. Sitting in the car isn’t going to make it happen, though. And that’s what I’ve been doing for nearly an hour.
Not even outside the front of the building. I’m hiding around the corner, parked behind the small, central, private gardens that are closed to the general public. Guess she’s got a key for that gate I’m looking at as well as her own garden. All these residents will have one. That’s what privilege gets you in this part of town. The rest of us, the mere mortals, have to climb in like criminals to get a slice of peace.
Don’t know how I feel about it all. We’re still miles away from each other in too many ways. She doesn’t know what I am, or who I've been, and I haven’t got anything nice to say about the way she’s been brought up either. Maybe she needs to see where I grew up, who I was back then and why I’m the way I am because of that. Might give us a chance at finding middle ground.
One thing's for sure, sitting at Tallington for champagne and caviar isn’t on my list of priorities any time soon. Nor is wearing fucking tuxedos for events she might want me to be at or dicking around in top hats at the races. It’s not me, and I’m not good enough for it anyway. Me pretending I’m something I’m not isn’t happening. I’m a Croyden boy who did enough – that’s all. I grew up, got out, and found a way to make what is against the law seem relatively legitimate to my way of life.
Sighing, I knock my head back on the headrest, pissed with my own thoughts. I’ll never be like a Broderick, no matter the agreeable conversation with Landon yesterday or the beers we drank. I don’t have his composure, his style, or his ability to make every other human around him feel like a pathetic attempt at life.
Fuck, he even managed to make my home feel beneath him somehow. Don’t think he meant to. It was just him being there. Same shit as her being in there, really, but at least with her, there was some comfort attached, some sense of happiness. It's not good enough, though. None of it is. Not for her. And no matter his show of relative approval, I can’t work out whether continuing to walk away from this is better for everyone than trying.
Either way, Stefan’s safe where he is.
I know that now.
I get out and walk around the gated gardens a few times, maybe trying to find some courage to go and speak truthfully, or maybe just pacing myself and trying to even find the fucking words I’m thinking about. Don’t even know why I’m bothering considering her rejection the first-time round. It’s fucking embarrassing, in all honesty, but something in me needs to do this again - to see if there’s something worth thinking about now that all the shit is over.
I swallow the thought down and look at my car as I get back round to it, then kick the fucking wheel out of sheer annoyance with myself. Stupid. I should get back in. Go home. Toss this off as something that isn’t going anywhere but where it’s already been and be done with it.
My fucking hands are in my pockets, and I’m turning around again to make another loop of the gardens before I know it. I stop and glare at the buildings and then make the probably stupid decision to just go with it and see what happens. Fuck it. Why not? Nothing to lose.
I ring the buzzer when I get there, refusing to change my mind, and wait rather than just jack the lock. Waiting seems like the right thing to do. Guess it offers patience, some show of acting like we’re on a date.
My own eyes roll at the fucking thought.
Dates?
“Hello?”Shit.
“It’s me.”
“Oh. Okay.” The whirr of the door unlocking gives me my cue, and my hand pushes it wide. She’s already got her head out her own door when I walk through and close this one behind me, a small smile on her face. I wait again, unsure of the fucking vision. Not her, there’s nothing wrong with her at all. Never has been. It’s the fucking height of the ceilings. The ornate coving. The paintwork and expensive chandeliers in the hallway that are skewing my thoughts again. She might have plain walls, and simple furnishing, but even that screams class.
“Are you alright?” she says.
“Yeah.”
She steps out into the hallway, smiles wider. “And are you coming in?”
“Yeah.”
I start moving again until we’re in her apartment. It’s awkward as fuck for a few minutes, as she tries to get around me to shut the door, then moves around me again to lead me into the lounge area. Don’t know why. Shouldn’t be other than this feeling of fear that seems to be ramping up inside of me. Feel like having a fucking heart attack if I’m being honest with myself. Blood's rushing around my veins, and my muscles seem to be turning to jelly. Probably just the hole in my stomach making me feel like shit.
“Do you want some tea?” she asks with a half-smile. “I don’t have any beer. I’m sorry.”
“No.”
She looks over my frame. “Are you alright?”
