Shay’s only standing six feet away, but it feels like there’s a much bigger distance between us, and I can’t handle it anymore.
“I can’t do this anymore, Shay.”
28
SHAY
“Ican’t do this anymore, Shay.”
It’s funny how six words can split you in two, just like that. Not just the words, but the trembling in Noelle’s voice as she says it. I want to cross the space between us and wrap her in my arms, rub away the goosebumps peppering her skin where the cool air is hitting it, forehead-kiss away the pain in her voice. But I’m frozen in place as the words sink in.
“I can’t do this anymore, Shay.”
“Noelle,” I say, the wind carrying the word until it’s nothing more than a whispered plea.
“I’ve been trying to talk to you about this all week,” she continues, a dull ache settling in my bones. “You keep distracting me and changing the subject, but we have to talk about it. We can’t keep pretending like things aren’t going to change now that we’re not working together.”
She’s not wrong. I’ve been avoiding this conversation like it’s my job, changing the subject whenever she brings it up, because I’m not ready to talk about it. But she’s also not wrong that we can’t keep acting like it’s not happening.
The movie is over, and we might very well be over with it.
“Okay,” I say, but I’m more choked up than I realize, and it’s barely audible. I clear my throat. “Okay. Let’s talk.”
I take a step toward her, and she takes one toward me, and we meet in the middle of the parking lot. I look up at Noelle on a regular day, but she’s wearing heels, so I’m forced to tilt my chin even more to meet her eye. She’s blindingly beautiful, a bright spot in an otherwise dreary day.
“I don’t even know where to start,” she says, and it’s killing me that I can’t reach out to her.
“I’ve been dreading this conversation,” I admit. “That’s why I kept avoiding it. I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I liked being in a bubble with you.”
“I did too. But it was easy to stay in a bubble when we had no choice but to be, and now that we’re not working together… Bubbles don’t last forever.”
“No. I suppose they don’t,” I reply, my voice weak.
Noelle hugs her body, clearly cold, but also making herself smaller, and I hate it. She lets out a shaky breath. “I never wanted to be your friend, Shay. At first, for all the wrong reasons, but after, I didn’t want you to be my friend. I just wanted you to be mine.”
Everything beyond Noelle and me disappears, and I swear my heart pauses for a moment, just letting her words sink in.
“You wanted…”
“I wanted—I want—you. You kept talking about how things were casual between us, and all I could think about was when I’d be seeing you next.” Now that she’s started, Noelle’s words blend together almost manically. “I’ve been trying so hard not to push you, but I wanted to take you on dates, bring you to family dinner, talk about a future together. You keep calling it casual, but I think I’m falling in love with you!” The blood drains from Noelle’s face, like she didn’t mean to say that, but I’m not sure I’ve ever heard anything sweeter.
Noelle lets out a growl of frustration that’s almost a sob. “Fuck, I just… I wanted to ask you to dance.”
The last word is swallowed by a rumble of thunder, and the sky spills down on us. We both look up, and I draw in a deep breath as the rain hits my face. Instantly, the air feels a hundred times clearer, and I’m seeing the whole situation between me and Noelle clearer too—how the hell could I have misinterpreted everything so much? Nico was right. All I had to do was talk to her, and I could’ve saved us both a lot of stress.
But I was scared, and so was she, and now we’re at a crossroads—and I don’t plan on taking the wrong road.
“Let’s dance,” I say, holding my hand out to her. She stares at it, then me, like I’ve grown a second head.
“I’m sorry—what?”
“You wanted to ask me to dance. So let’s dance.”
Noelle blinks. “Here? You can feel that it’s pouring, right?”
“I can,” I say, stepping forward. “And I want to dance with the woman IknowI’m falling in love with in the pouring rain.” It doesn’t feel nearly as scary to say it as it did to overthink it; the words feel like exactly what I’m supposed to say, at exactly the right moment, like puzzle pieces slotting into place.
Her lips part, her eyes widening. Raindrops run down her face, smudging her eyeliner, but she’s never looked more beautiful than when she steps closer to me. “Shay,” she breathes, threading her fingers through mine. She’s icy cold as I pull her into me, her yellow dress clinging to her skin. I slowly run one hand down her back, winding it around her waist, holding our clasped hands up.
