Page 35 of Lies and Other Drugs

The moment I stepped inside the hotel lobby, the heavy weight of an impending confrontation settled in my bones, making me trudge to the elevator and upstairs. It wasn’t a fight that had me feeling anxious, it was a fight withNoah.He didn’t let me bullshit my way through a conversation or hide behind my anger. And after an exhausting night, I just really wasn’t in the mood to question my existence or fall further in love with a man I would never allow myself to have. I slid my room key inside the lock and wasn’t surprised to see Noah standing there and staring out the window, looking over the street below.

“Who dropped you off?” he asked.

“My fourth boyfriend...or maybe my third. Samuel admitted to killing William last night, so it’s looking like he’s off the ballot, unfortunately. He had such a nice dick, too.” Noah didn’t laugh at my joke. When did he stop appreciating my humor? Oh yeah, probably last night when I abandoned him at a bar to give in to his addictions instead of hold me back.

“Nathaniel tried calling. He’s worried about you. Samuel said you attacked him last night,” Noah said, keeping his tone even. “I should have taken your...condition...more seriously. I know better than this. Been too caught up in my own shit to do my job properly.”

“Your job? This has never been a job for you, Noah,” I said. “You woke up with me in your house and liked the distraction I offered.” Sitting on the bed, I removed my heels, sighing in appreciation while flexing the arches of my feet. “I mean, Samuel stolemygun. Lodged it in my chest, then nearly killedmynew boyfriend/drug dealer/strange man I just rode around in a car with all night,” I replied with a shrug. Deflecting was a hard game, had to confuse them with a hint of the truth, just enough to keep them guessing.

“Why?” Noah asked.

“Why? ’Cause he’s crazy. ’Cause he’s got some sick and twisted views about the world…”

Noah spun around, his hands clenched into shaky fists. “Why did you leave me? I’ve never judged you, never tried to change you. Why’d you leave me there, Octavia?”

Looking Noah in the eye, I replied with a humorless laugh. “Because you don’t deserve the kind of fucked up I have to offer.”

Noah walked towards me and sat down, making the bed dip near where I sat, and our arms touched. “You’re not right, Babe. You need help.”

“I’ve never pretended to be anything else, Noah,” I replied.

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“So?”

Noah slapped the tops of his thighs with his open palms. “Dammit, Octavia!” he screamed, and I was sure the neighboring hotel rooms could hear. “I’m not okay with this, I care about you. But you’re impulsive, manic, self-destructive. You don’t feel things the way you should. You don’t love…”

That was the grit of it, wasn’t it? Who was he to say that it wasn’t right—thatIwasn’t right? Assigning reactions and feelings and appropriateness was just another way people gave up control of their lives. I didn’thaveto feel anything, nor did I have to conform to his need to save me.

And this was why I could never love Noah the way he deserved. I could never loveanyonethe way they deserved. Because love for me was boxes of paint and three a.m. banter. Love was a car ride with a stranger. Love was forbidden feelings and hate and guilt and that sensation you got right before pulling the trigger. Love was something I was borderline incapable of but also the thing I understood better than most. Love destroyed people.

“I’m never going to be what you want me to be, Noah. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me. I just feel too much but also don’t feel enough. Is it so bad to not be like the rest of the world? I thought you liked the challenge.”

“I’ve failed you,” Noah whispered. “I’m a goddamn therapist, and Iletyou get this bad.”

Now, I was mad. Boiling. Burning up with a white-hot anger that grabbed hold of us both and didn’t let go. “I didn’t start talking to you in the hopes I’d get saved, Noah. I took your hand and never let go because I wanted to be understood and accepted. I wanted a distraction. Nothing more. Stop trying to fix me or save me. I was the one that savedyou.”

Noah looked at me from the corner of his eye before rolling his neck. My words seemed to wash over him. He was stuck in his ways, and nothing I said would tear him out of it.

“You did save me, Octavia. I’ll always be thankful for that,” he whispered.

I’d never been the type to handle a well-placed thank you. It left me fumbling and wondering if I deserved it. “Let’s get out of here, okay?” he then said before grabbing my hand and squeezing, the comforting gesture felt hollow though.

Noah went quiet for a moment, probably thinking of the dark gutter I found him in. Thinking of his daughter, of the ex-wife he finally made peace with only as a ploy to help me. I was a distraction.

“I’m kind of tired,” I replied. I had a lot to think about, a lot to work through. I didn’t want a long, awkward meal with Noah where we stared at each other from across the table without knowing what to say. I was already overextended and wanted to retreat to a corner where I could listen to William’s voice telling me that Nathaniel Youngblood was going to destroy him. My fingers were itching to grab my phone and pace, that obsessive coping mechanism I’d perfected over the last year.

“Humor me,” Noah replied, his voice unwavering.Fine.If he wanted an awkward brunch, then more power to him. He held my hand as we descended in the elevator, brushing his thumb along my skin as he leaned into me. And despite craving space to decompress and pack away all the different thoughts in my head, I allowed it.

“You know I’d do anything for you, right?” he asked. And something felt suspicious.

“No, I don’t,” I lied. Noah had already done so much. How could I not see that he was trapped in my mind just as much as I was trapped in his redemption?

The doors opened, and I looked at the ground while stepping out of the elevator, not really paying attention to where I was going. “I’m so sorry, Octavia,” Noah whispered, making me look ahead in confusion.

What was he sorry for?

And there was the real reason Noah looked so tortured today. Lucinda Wilson looked out of place at the dingy hotel in Harlem. She was wearing a white pantsuit, stained at the hemline where it was so long that it had dragged along the concrete. “What thefuckis she doing here?” I growled, digging my heels into the ground as Noah pulled me closer. Behind her was a woman I didn’t recognize.

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