The screen glows as I swipe open my phone, and simultaneously, a shadowy figure appears at the far end of the house. My heart rate instantly accelerates, believing it might be him stopping by to see that we made it home safely. But as he draws closer, the landscape lighting illuminates his silhouette, and I recognize Noah's familiar stride. My chest deflates with disappointment as a bitter resentment takes its place.
Fish and Trigg both rise from their lounge chairs when they spot him, my vigilant guardians after tonight's earlier confrontation, but I wave them off.
"I'm fine. Let me handle this," I say as I stand to meet Noah on the other side of the pool.
"Noah, I have nothing to say to you." I cross my arms, not just in defiance but as a shield. "You were completely out of line tonight."
"How so?" His voice carries that academic detachment I once found so appealing. Now, it just feels cold. "I didn't say anything that wasn't true."
"You made egregious insinuations," I state boldly. "I told you none of this was because of London. I'm not with him, but for some reason, you're obsessed with making this about him. Tonight, you were with us from start to finish. You saw for yourself I had no idea London would be at that last stop." I drag myhands through my hair, my nerves frayed. "It's like you're determined to believe I'm lying to you. I feel like you're fighting with a ghost."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Offense flares in his eyes, his posture stiffening.
"It means we're not in high school anymore." I gesture vaguely between us. "This isn't some competition with a trophy at the end, and tonight, you made it abundantly clear that's exactly how you see things."
"Is that what you think I was doing?" A complex mixture of bewilderment and hurt crosses his expression, softening his features in a way that makes my resolve waver, but only for a second.
"I don't know. You tell me." I take a step closer. "You keep tossing around accusations that my timing isn't a coincidence, while the same can be said about you. You had years to ask for more, years to ask me to move home with you, but it was only after you saw London that you suddenly took your shot."
"I was always going to ask you," he says with an honesty that resonates despite everything.
I don't think he's lying, and he isn't entirely wrong in his argument. My timing does appear arguably suspect, and yes, some of that can be attributed to discovering London was here in Bardstown, but not in the way Noah is accusing me. Seeing London forced me to stop running from the truth I've been avoiding for months: I was holding onto Noah for all the wrong reasons. He was never going to make me feel half of what a person should feel when love is real. Drawing things out was bad for both of us. Noah may have planned on asking me to move home all along, but somewhere along the line, his plans changed, just like mine.
"I believe you," I say, letting my defenses down just enough to show my sincerity. "I'm just asking that you believe me too. I was always going to say no."
Something hardens in his gaze. "I don't believe you."
"You don't have to, but you do have to accept my answer,because it's not going to change." My voice remains firm even though my heart aches. I don't want to hurt him, but he refuses to listen, and I have to close this door once and for all.
He steps into me then, his height suddenly looming in a way it never has before. A darkness I've never witnessed crosses his face as the sound of pool furniture screeching across the stone patio cuts through the air.
"Back up, Donovan," Fisher's voice carries a sharp warning from the other side of the pool.
Noah's eyes stay locked on mine. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Laney. You've never been a game to me." He opens his mouth, as if he has more to say, then closes it, clenching his jaw so tight I can see the muscle twitch. He angrily runs a hand through his hair. "You want me gone? Fine. I'll fucking leave. But when you find out how wrong you are, I won't be there to pick up the pieces."
He lets the gravity of his words settle between us for another beat before turning on his heel and storming off, each footstep a punctuation mark on the end of our friendship.
I watch him disappear into the darkness, hating how everything ended between us. I never wanted things to end up this way, but it's the absolute conviction behind his belief that I am wrong that sends tendrils of fear and insecurity spreading through my chest. My feet move of their own accord, hurriedly rushing toward the back door.
"Laney, where are you going?" Sydney calls after me, her voice full of concern.
"I'll be back. I just need to grab something from my room," I answer without looking back, my voice steadier than I feel.
I just need a minute to breathe. And maybe my fingers are already reaching for my phone, making a call that will either save me or destroy me completely.
"Hello,"London answers on the third ring.
It's 2 a.m., and I'm sitting on the cold wood floor beside my bed, where I've been for the past twenty minutes, mustering up the courage to make this call. I finally worked up enough strength to press the call button, but hearing his voice filter through reminds me I hadn't planned for what I'd say once he answered. Calling feels personal, and the last thing I told him was, "I don't want to be your friend." After I said it, his eyes flashed up to mine, and for a heartbeat, it felt like he knew what I was saying.I don't want to be your friend because I can't. I can't when I want to be your everything.However, our moment was cut short, and given the rollercoaster we've been on, I'm not sure where things stand.
"London…" I start, my voice unsure, a tremble he must pick up, because he cuts in.
"One hundred and ninety-seven," he says evenly.
"What?" I question unsteadily as I look at the moon outside my window.
"It's been one hundred and ninety-seven minutes since I gave you my phone number," he says, the gravel in his tone trailing off.
"I'm not sure if that means you wanted me to call or not."