Page 9 of Tears and Other Fears

At least he was man enough to admit that he was wrong, but it didn’t change the fact that he completely ruined me. He teased me with the idea that he could accept me for who I was, took in all my manic murderous thoughts, and spit them out for the rest of the world to deem unworthy. And on top of that, he called my mother. My fuckingmother.He knew that she was a shitty person, and he still brought her into something she knew nothing about. She had no right to me. None of them did. And yet he took it upon himself to send me away under the guise that he was helping me. But the truth of it all was, he was helping himself.

“What do you want?” I asked. I was teetering between having enough energy to handle Noah and not really giving a fuck.

“I wanted to check on you. When I found out that Young got you out of Thorne, I wanted to make sure that you were okay. It’s not smart to go off your meds cold turkey—”

I’m usually a bit more eloquent. I’m a good conversationalist; I can get my point across in a blunt way that not only respects my feelings but cuts my enemies up inside. There’s an honesty about the way I tell people to fuck off that I find to be refreshing. So I wasn’t exactly sure what came over me, but I started screeching in his ears. I was so loud both he and Young held their hands against their skulls to try and block out the sound.

My eyes squinted, and I braced my palms out, shoving them against his chest. “How fucking dare you,” I screamed. “You don’t get to talk to me about the meds they put me on. You don’t get to talk to me like you care. You care about yourself, Noah. Don’t pretend otherwise. Because if you cared about me, you would’ve never called my mother. And you sure as fuck would’ve never helped her send me away to that stupid place.”

Although I hit his chest, I knew it didn’t do any damage. Noah’s sad little expression still looked like I punched him in the jaw, though. He clenched his teeth, squinting his eyes at me like he was trying to hold back the anger he felt. Oh yeah, Noah, why don’t you tell me how you really feel? “You gonna justify what you did now?” I asked. “You gonna tell me how it was the right thing to do? How you had to save me because you couldn’t save your daughter? Are you gonna make yourself feel better about your little alcohol problem by pointing out all my flaws?”

I got in his face, each of my words like venom. I didn’t care that we were standing close together. Or that my breathing was rapid now. I didn’t care about the fucking heat pooling between my thighs. I’d always liked a good hate fuck.

“In all of this, I’m just pissed off that I didn’t see it coming. I should’ve predicted that you were capable of something like this. I should have known that you’d show up today. I don’t need those fucking meds. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone. The one person I needed was William, and he’s dead. So go back home, Noah. Leave me alone.”

I spun around dramatically, making sure to hit him in the face with my wild strawberry hair. I wasn’t sure if it smelled good, but I wanted the last thing Noah felt to be something he craved. The man loved strawberry blonds, and I guess I loved assholes.

He must’ve reached out to stop me, because Young intervened. I turned and looked over my shoulder just in time to see Young shove Noah out of his apartment completely. “Don’t come back here,” Young ordered.

Noah let out a laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re falling for her, too,” Noah said. I didn’t understand the smile on his face. Young must’ve been shocked by his statement also, because he didn’t shut the door. They were stuck in a standoff, and Young wanted to hear Noah’s explanation.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Young asked.

Noah’s smile ticked up a notch further, and I felt my heart race even more. “Let’s just say I know all about addictions. And Octavia is someone that everyone wants a hit of.”

“You’re disgusting,” Young yelled with a curse before slamming the door in Noah’s face.

“Does the idea of being addicted to me disgust you?” I asked. Of all of that, his reaction to Noah’s statement was the one part of that exchange that I was clinging to. At my question, he simply stared at me for a moment, as if contemplating the right way to answer it. I saw the hint of a lie flash before his eyes like he was prepared to give me some bullshit. But thankfully, the momentary lapse in honesty faded. He parted his lips before spitting out a piece of his soul at my feet.

“No. The idea of anyone else being addicted to you is what bothers me.” And with that bomb of a statement, Young disappeared to his bedroom, slamming the door shut and making the walls of this pretentious penthouse shake.

Chapter 5

Of coursetheparty was being held at a ridiculously posh frat house. When we decided to pay William’s drug dealer a visit, I had this vision that I would go into a warehouse full of addicts and illegal contraband. But nothing was what it seemed at Blackwood University.

The music was loud, as to be expected. I found myself walking in sky-high stilettos to the beat of the hard-hitting rap song. Young and I never had the moment—you know the one I’m talking about. The one where I emerged from the bedroom with my hair done and makeup plastered to my face. I wanted him to drag his eyes down my porcelain skin with his sharp stare, linger on my cleavage and bite his lip at the sight of my red mouth. But of course, he simply grunted, probably still angry from our moment with Noah earlier. He didn’t even offer his arm as we walked to the car and left for the party.

In the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder if Renon would find me beautiful. Renon and I had a really odd connection. I had thought about our little adventure in his sexy classic car on multiple occasions. His words stayed with me long after I left him. Renon was profound. Jaded. Personable and selfish. He was like a narcissistic version of me, but more controlled. He didn’t care what anyone thought and was just unapologetically himself. I liked that a lot.

Naturally, the moment we walked inside the frat house, everyone flocked to Young. It reminded me of the first time I’d ever seen him. He was the guy girls wanted to fuck, and other guys wanted tobe. I watched from behind how he greeted them. He said all the right things. Shook hands and patted their backs like the humble, perfect bastard he was. He even politely let girls touch his arm. But there was a fixed way he stood that reeked of discomfort. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be the center of attention. For a moment, I debated on stealing the spotlight for him. But then I remembered that it was Samuel’s job. I wasn’t willing to replace Samuel. I was currently short a therapist, and taking on his best friend’s role would have a significant amount of symbolism that I wasn’t nearly drunk enough to analyze.

Besides, the bastard didn’t give me my moment. So I left him there to schmooze his buddies. I was going to find Renon. And find him Idid.

Renon was in a backroom, biting his plump lip and playing poker. He looked like all my dirty little fantasies had a meeting and appointed him as the spokesman for my libido. I stared at the way he tugged his lips between his teeth, wondering if he knew the effect it had on people.

I once knew a girl that would compulsively bite her lip because her boyfriend said it was sexy. There were teeth indentations permanently on her pout from all the gnawing.

She’d especially do it when she was sad, and it kind of fucked with me. She once told me that it softened the blow of her tears, like somehow sexualizing her depression made it easier for others to swallow—she was always worrying about others.

One night, I tugged at her lip with my own teeth, because I wanted to know how it felt to hide my emotions behind what others expected of me. It was a gentle kiss—tasted kind of like Noah and cotton candy. I haven’t seen her since.

“Hey,” I said with a smirk when his eyes trailed up my bare legs and short dress. I noticed him linger on my chest then flicker to my face with mischief. He recognized me immediately and looked like I was handed to him on a gold platter.

“Crazy girl,” he greeted, and if I didn’t have self-esteem made of steel, I probably would have slapped him for the nickname. But I knew the truth. Our brief interaction drovehimcrazy.

“Renon the Drug Dealer,” I replied. His smile slipped, if only for a second, before he fixed it back in place. Once he was standing, the girls hanging over him gave me several scowls before adjusting their skirts and pushing their cleavage up. Whatever, ladies. You can ride his dick when I’m done with him.

He moved towards me, then once we were standing toe to toe, I grinned at the way he breathed me in like I was the drug he dealt. “Found me, did you?”

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