Ten of Me ✓

Thirty-One

The hallways were too loud as I walked down them, still staring at the floor and refusing to accept that people were even acknowledging my presence. My gut felt like it had been punched and tears were constantly threatening to spill over onto my cheeks as I made the long trek to my locker, remembering how Morgan and I used to always walk together. The empty space beside me where she should have been was like a ghost, and whenever I turned to look at her out of habit, all I saw was emptiness or a stranger.

"Nicole."

Someone grabbed my hand and turned me gently around, and I saw myself standing face to face with Noah. In that moment I wanted to scream and kick him and sob, because the last thing I could handle right now was him looking me in the eye and acting like he loved me when I knew what a fraud he really was.

"Get away from me," I growled, my voice coming out low and dangerous.

Noah moved his arms up to my waist until he was holding me firmly into place, his eyes soft as they stared into mine. "It's okay, sweetheart," he said quietly, rubbing small circles into my back. I tensed up tightly against his arms and he kissed the top of my head, saying, "Everything will be okay. I can't imagine what you must be going through, but I'm going to be here for you, okay?"

Boiling emotions overcame me. He had no idea what I was living through right now, and he didn't even care to know. Pretending like he was a loyal boyfriend on any normal day made me mad, but acting like this after the death of my best friend was a blow I couldn't shake. He didn't even care about Morgan, and he wasn't even giving me time to grieve. All he wanted to do was make sure he kept me as his girlfriend, so that he would win his selfish, stupid bet and get his free ticket to Vegas. He'd say whatever he needed to, even if that meant treating me this way when I was clearly broken.

I yanked my hand away from his and slapped him as hard as I could across the cheek, so that I felt a sting in my palm that even brought tears to my eyes. I'd put all of my hurt and all of my anger into that one slap, wanting to pain him like he had pained me. I wanted him to feel some of the suffering and agony I was going through, to understand that I wasn't just someone he could mess around with.

Nicole Thorn would have never dreamed of slapping anyone, but it was something that Morgan Chavez definitely would have done.

"Nicole! What the---" Noah trailed off, holding his cheek in one hand and staring at me as if he'd never seen me before. I was satisfied to see that a red imprint of my palm was imprinted just beneath his cheekbone.

I just glared at him, not letting myself cry in front of him because I wanted to see me look strong and powerful. I'd thought I'd achieve a look of control and authority as Hannah, playing dress-up as the girl I'd always dreamed of being, but now, I saw it in Nicole. I could be strong. And I wasn't going to bow to his will anymore. By the end of Saturday, I would never have to speak to him again.

"Nicole, baby." Noah slowly dropped his hand from his cheek, blinking slowly as if to ease the evident ache in his cheek. "What was that for?"

"I told you to get away from me," I said clearly, tensing in anticipation of him trying to grab me again. "I'll slap you again, I swear I will."

But Noah didn't back away. He just snatched both of my hands and easily pinned them against the wall, exactly as he had that night in the bathroom, when I was Hannah. "Let me explain to you how this works, sweetie," he said, his face close to mine. "I know you're hurting right now, okay? But letting my girlfriend slap me in the face doesn't do much for my image, so I'm not going to let you do it."

Tears sprung into my eyes at the mention of his "image" again. How could he even think of that when an amazing, beautiful, powerful girl had just died, and when the world was still trying to make up for the enormous hole she'd left behind?