Page 75 of I Shouldn't Feel This Way

I trembled and rubbed my arm once more, hoping the goose bumps would disappear faster. It was difficult to process any sort of rational thought, because the only thing my brain was registering was:

1. Noah is standing inches away from me with his shirt off.

2. I’m standing across from him withmyshirt off.

3. This music’s turning me on.

4.He’sturning me on.

5. I want him.

6. I’m in love with him.

7. I shouldn’t be.

8. I want to kiss him.

9. I want him all over me.

10. I shouldn’t feel this way.

All right, so it wasn’t justone thing,it was a list. Too many conflicting thoughts and emotions were consuming me all at once.

“That’s hardly an appropriate metaphor to use, Noah. I’m standing right in front of you, minus a brick wall and a shirt.” I pointed out the obvious with my hands.

“You know what I mean.” He looked at me cautiously and dropped his hands from my face. Neither of us moved. We stood in place, never taking our eyes off each other, alone in our messed-up universe.

“You really don’t need all this makeup.” He reached out and rolled his thumb over my bottom lip, wiping away the red gloss. My stomach tightened uncomfortably, and I could have smacked his hand away, but I didn’t. Instead, I decided to declare my dominance through useless verbal combat.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Noah cocked his head to the side. “I’m your father. I’m supposed to tell you what to do.”

I glared at him and drained whatever warmth I had from my voice so that I sounded as cold and venomous as he had in the morning. “Maybe I don’t want you to be my father anymore.”

I was expecting him to laugh it off or roll his eyes at me, but he stayed silent for what seemed like the longest ten seconds of my life.

“You really know how to cut me deep,” he finally said. “And that scares me. I hope you didn’t mean that.”

I stared into his aquatic eyes and saw the tide turn within them, submerging me in his sea of sorrows. I definitely meant it—only because I didn’t know how to make these feelings disappear. It was virtually impossible for me to carry out a normal father-daughter relationship with him. There was no way of making him understand.

“It doesn’t matter,” I mumbled, catching his wandering gaze toward my cleavage. But it lasted only a brief moment.

“I’m sorry if I’m not doing a very good job in the daddy department. I’m trying my best, Aria. I—”

“Stop it!” I raised a protesting hand. “Stop being the nice guy!”

He appeared to look shocked by my sudden outpour of anger.

“Please,” I said, “stop making me love you any more than I already do!”

After months of restraint, I had finally said the “L word” out loud, and the impact of emotion that was stirring within me was so strong that I began to tear up. No, I wasn’t going to cry. Wrong place, wrong time.

Noah looked at me with compassion, and I felt my heart squeeze inside my chest. The waterworks were starting again as I struggled to fight back the tears.

“And please,” I continued, “pleasedon’t look at me like that.”

His expression turned confused. “Like what?”

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