32. Someone out there

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Noah was going to be here. In New York. Even better, he was going to appear on a talk show. I wasn't stupid enough to think I could buy tickets to the filming without Cal noticing, but I could at least try to catch a glimpse of him outside the studio.

And just like that, mind made up, I began the waiting game. With each passing day, my obsession grew more. I told myself I was just trying to find closure; that I only needed to see his face and make him remember that I exist before I forget about him just like he forgot me. But as the day grew closer, and butterflies started to make their home in my stomach, I knew I couldn't keep fooling myself.

Finally, after two agonizing weeks of waiting, the day arrived. I sat at the kitchen table, leg bouncing up and down, trying to hide my impatience while I waited for Cal to leave. He was taking forever today.

When he finally came out of the bathroom and gave me a kiss, he tripped over one of his shoes on the way out and cursed loudly. I tried not to laugh.

"Can you clean up this place today?" He asked me. "We're living in fucking filth."

Normally I would've told him to clean the clutter himself– it was all his junk anyway– but I didn't want to get on his bad side today. "Sure. Have a good day."

He grinned. "Thanks babe, you're the best."

When the door clicked shut and the sound of his footsteps disappeared, I shot up from my seat and ran to the bedroom to get dressed. On my way out, I sighed at the mess in the main room. It would take at least a couple hours to clean everything. Whatever. I would handle it after seeing Noah.

•••

Holy shit.

It was insanely crowded outside the talk show studio. I arrived pretty early and yet there were already dozens of people crowding the entranceway, hoping to catch a glimpse of Noah just like me. I pushed my way through the fangirls till I was near the front.

I had to see him. No, he had to see me. He had to see me and feel just a bit of the torture I'd felt for the last 5 years. It was only fair.

I pushed my way past one final cluster of people, stumbling into the front row just as a black SUV pulled up and the crowd's excited buzz escalated into screaming. The front passenger door opened first, where a body guard got out and opened the back door.

My heart started to pound in my chest. I didn't know if I was actually ready for this. The world began to look like a video playing at an awful framerate as Noah stepped out of the car. I gasped without even realizing it at the sight of him. Even with all the time I spent with him, years of only seeing his face on video made it hard to remember he was even a real person at all.

Slowly, he began to work his way along the crowds of people, stopping to give autographs or take selfies with nearly everyone. He seemed so happy, a pleasant smile on his face as he greeted his fans. What was behind that smile?

And then, out of nowhere, he looked up. Our eyes met as I was gawking and we stared at each other for what felt like forever. A look of confusion and disbelief flashed across Noah's face, followed by one of desperation. He began to walk in my direction, but as he came closer, the fans all around me began to freak out and start fighting to get closer to him.

I was helpless to fight against it, frozen in the moment, when a group of fangirls pushed past me and blocked Noah out of my view. Snapped out of my trance, I felt my emotions begin to catch up to me; my chest grew tighter and fear built up from my core. I quickly turned and frantically pushed my way out of the crowd, emerging from the sea of people and collapsing onto the pavement, hyperventilating.

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