“Yo, Miller!” someone hollers after me as I exit the cafeteria and I’m so lost in thought, I almost don’t turn back and carry on my way. When I look over my shoulder though, I watch as people step aside and let Noah pass through, so that he can jog up to me. He slings an arm around my shoulders lazily and I stumble, but as I’m about to scold Noah and warn him to be careful, especially since he knows I’m accident-prone, I notice that he’s beaming down at me even after the little fiasco that just took place in the cafeteria not too long ago. Knowing Noah, chances are he’s forgotten all about it already.
“What do you want now, Noah?” I ask grumpily, breathing deeply through my nose, but he knows I have a soft spot for him and can’t stay annoyed at him for long, or, like, at all. “I’m not letting you copy my Spanish homework again if that’s what you’re thinking,” I warn him beforehand because Noah might excel at a lot of things, but the only language he’s fluent in is English. Unless, of course, you consider suave talking and flirting to be a language of its own. Then, by all means, Noah might as well be a polyglot.
“Nah, you don’t have to get prissy with me. I’m skipping Spanish today,” he tells me and somehow I don’t find that surprising in the least bit. I’d be probably more shocked if he told me he’d be attending and taking notes for once, instead of hitting on the girl sitting behind him in class that also, like Noah, would never learn anything because she’s too busy flirting and batting her eyelashes at him.
“God knows how you haven’t been suspended yet,” I mumble, but Noah obviously hears me because he chuckles lightly.
“Ah, the mystery of life,” he says dramatically, throwing his hands up in the air before he drops the act and stares at me with this intense look in his eyes that never fails to give me the chills. “There’s something I can do for you, actually,” he informs me in all seriousness, piquing my interest.
I cock an eyebrow up at him, curiosity getting the best of me. “Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”
If he tells me he’s going to build me a tree house as he promised when we were ten, a promise he hasn’t kept, then I might as well jump off a cliff because obviously, the end is near.
“I can go beat Brayden up for you if you like.”
I pause, stopping dead in my tracks in the middle of the hallway.
The fact that he’s being so businesslike when he says that has me rolling in stitches.
“I’m serious,” Noah insists, getting affronted that I’d even think he might be mucking around, “nothing helps get a guy’s head on straight like a good ass-kicking,” Noah says to me, but he doesn’t need to convince me. I’m sure of it because the amount of fights he’s been in is nothing short of disturbingly impressive, especially considering that Noah looks like the kind of guy that can’t hurt a fly.
“I bet you do,” I say to him, patting his back consolingly, “and don’t take it the wrong way, but I’m going to have to take a pass,” I tell him apologetically, even though the last person I’d ever want to see get hurt is Brayden, no matter how much of a jack-ass he can be.
“The offer still stands, though,” Noah informs me, shrugging one shoulder flippantly, like he didn’t just offer to kick his best friend’s ass for the hell of it, “if you ever want to take it.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think it’ll be necessary,” I assure Noah, thinking to myself that if it ever comes down to it, I’d rather do my own beating.
“Your call, Syd,” Noah shrugs again, then looks back at me, “I just wanted to make sure you know I’m on your side.”
“Aww, are you trying to make me blush?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood because I feel like we’re getting too personal and I think I rather like it when Noah’s being his goofy self because a serious Noah puts me on edge for some reason.
“I’m serious, Syd. Brayden’s one of my friends too, but we’ve grown up together and I introduced you two and I feel partially responsible for-“
“Noah,” I interrupt him before he goes into a rant, lifting my hand to silence him before he gets carried away, “stop right here. Whatever’s going on between me and Brayden is our problem, not yours. I’m sorry if you guys feel like you’re stuck in the middle and have to pick sides,” I tell him, feeling a little bad for making things harder for our friends. That’s what’s really going to blow if Brayden and I ever separate, our friends would either have to choose to stay with me or go with him.
“Okay, whatever you say. I just had to get this off my chest,” Noah exhales, looking relieved, like a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders. I, unlike him, feel the burden of his decision, trying to suffocate me because I’ve never asked him to choose in the first place.
On one hand, I’m touched he’s willing to do whatever it takes to defend me, but on the other, I’m wondering have people started to finally realize that my relationship with Brayden might not be picture perfect, after all. I’m not as bothered by the thought as I would’ve been a few days ago, way before my patience wore thin.
“And for what it’s worth,” Noah continues as I’m mulling this over, not knowing how I feel about it yet, “I don’t like that Emily chick, either. She’s a cling-on,” he whispers into my ear and I can hear the smile in his voice, even if his face is unsmiling when he looks back at me, all stony-faced and serious-looking because he obviously means business.
Despite my futile resistance, Noah accomplishes his mission. He makes me smile, knowing that at the end of the day, he has my back. I don’t know what it’s about having someone else, who’s so much like you in so many ways that you two must share a brain, which I find so joy-inducing, so liberating. Somehow knowing I’m not standing alone doesn’t exactly make things go any smoother, but it does make them better. For a moment there, I find myself sympathizing with Emily and finding common ground because it dawns on me why she thinks her friendship with Brady is so special. She needs his support, same way I need Noah’s, and CeCe’s, and Lola’s. The only difference she has just him and I have a small army standing behind me.
But then, I shake myself out of it because I remind myself that I don’t make my best friends move mountains for me.
“Thanks, Noah,” I say to him softly, “I’m truly touched.” I never meant to cry, but for whatever reason, my eyes start welling up and I curse my hormones for turning me into an emotional wreck when it’s most inconvenient.
Like when surrounded by hundreds of your classmates, all rushing to go to class, but also, keeping an eye on you because they know you’re prone to land yourself in dramatic situations.
Noah, sensing I’m about to embarrass myself, nudges me lightly in the ribs to bring me back from dreamland, making me gaze up at him and in a truly Noah fashion he says, “Don’t worry, I’ll find a way for you to repay me somehow.”
I laugh gaily, luckily abandoning every idea of crying. Then some guy from the football team hollers his name and waves him over and Noah gives me a quick hug before the crowd swallows him up and we go our separate ways.
I recall my earlier chat with Noah as CeCe and I are sitting in history class, but CeCe doesn’t seem nearly as surprised as I was to hear what Noah had to say.
“No surprise,” she shrugs nonchalantly, her chin propped up in her hand, looking bored to tears, “Noah would do anything for you, Syd. He’s crazy about you.”
“Uh, what?” I bellow, standing up straighter in my seat and my eyes almost pop out of their sockets.
I’m gripping the edge of the desk until my knuckles have turned ghostly white as Mrs. Rodriguez glances up from her celebrity mag. She raises one eyebrow at me in a questioning manner and as our gazes collide, I blush and lower myself in the seat, hoping I’ll disappear if I set my mind onto it.
Mrs. Rodriguez cares about teaching us history as much as I care about becoming a world-class ballet dancer, which means she doesn’t care at all.
Like she’d rather slit her wrists and watch herself bleed to death than do it. Her words, not mine.
According to her, history is a thing of the past and if we want to learn about dead people doing stupid shit, it’s on us.
The only reason she isn’t fired yet is because she had an affair with the principal, who’s married to the governor’s cousin, so that’s one mess you don’t want to have to clean up. Besides, most of the kids here are privileged (read: rich) enough to get into whatever college they desire without having passed Mrs. Rodriguez’ class.
Once Mrs. Rodriguez is back to reading her magazine and isn’t glaring daggers at me, I turn back to CeCe, who’s popping her bubblegum and trying not yawn, like her earlier statement has fled her mind already.
I, however, am not bored at all if my racing heart is anything to go by.
“What do you mean?” I ask her slowly in a deadly quiet voice, frantically glancing around, as if someone else could’ve heard her little outburst and made a wrong assumption.
“It means,” CeCe takes a deep breath and rolls her green eyes at me exasperatedly, “that Noah’s been in love with you for, like, the past decade, silly.”
I flinch back, as if I’ve been slapped. The force of her confession blows my mind away and has me falling out of my seat. That is, if I’m not holding onto the desk for dear life.
“Who told you that?” I demand to know, narrowing my eyes at her doubtfully, refusing to believe this nonsense. If there’s one thing I can truly count on in life, it’s my friendship with Noah and I won’t have it tarnished by some false rumors. I’m single-handedly going to make them eat their words as soon as I get my hands on this gossip-spreading-
“He did,” CeCe replies simply, not noticing the way I’m on the verge of having a panic attack. She doesn’t even care to elaborate, as if she doesn’t see the suffering I’m in. She simply ends it at that tone and that’s that.
Shock of all shocks, I’m clawing at my chest, convinced this feeling will go away.
“When did he do that?” I ask, short of breath as I stare at CeCe helplessly, like she has the answers to all that are troubling my mind.
“When we were around thirteen,” CeCe answers and the moment the words are out of her mouth, the dark veil is lifted from my eyes and I can both see clearly and breathe on my own without gasping for breath and sweating a river.
“CeCe,” I start, getting my breath and giving my clueless friend a reprimanding look, “it’s been four years since then. I doubt he’s still in love with me. It was probably just some stupid crush,” I explain to her, like I would to a small kid. Sometimes CeCe does remind me of one anyways. I’m still surprised that there was a time when Noah had a thing for me, but the rational part of me acknowledges the fact that eventually when a girl and a boy are just friends, one of them may probably develop, um, unexpectant feelings for the other. It’s normal, even if a little bit unsettling when I remember: ‘goddamn it, it’s Noah we’re talking about’.
CeCe blinks up at me a few times, as if processing my words at her own pace. I start to doubt she’ll respond at all when she finally does. “Keep telling yourself that,” she tells me in an almost patronizing way before she faces the front and pointedly turns her back on me, as if she doing me a favor by not getting into this argument, even if she’s the one who started it.
Peeved, I tap her on the shoulder until I hear her sigh and only then she turns to face me, the look on her face making it blindingly clear to me she’s struggling not to get fed up with me, but I’m not making it any easier for her.
“CeCe, you can’t possibly think that after all these years, Noah still has…,” I struggle to speak, scratching my neck because the words get stuck in my throat, “feelings for me,” I breathe out, glad to be done with it, even if the whole subject is making me mighty uncomfortable.
Instead of getting CeCe to see eye to eye with me and stop harboring such ludicrous ideas, like Noah being crazy about me, she doesn’t seem affected in the least bit. If anything, she looks even surer of her conviction.
“Ask him,” CeCe says, shrugging carelessly, like she didn’t just ruin sleep for me for the next… oh, fifty years of life. Probably until I’m so old and wrinkled, I’ll pass out from trying to keep my eyes open.
“Are you crazy? That’s… that’s-“
I’m sputtering all over the place, not making any sense, tugging at my clothes, like it just got so much hotter in the room, I’m sweating like I’m running a marathon.
We need to open a window before I melt like an icicle in the spring.
“You probably shouldn’t though,” CeCe remarks, tapping her chin thoughtfully, “you might get scared of what he’ll reply to that.”
At that moment, however, I’m anything but scared and I suddenly have a burst of courage as I clench my hands until my acrylic nails are digging into my palms and almost breaking the skin.
“CeCe, you know you’re my friend and I love you, but you seriously need to go see a doctor because you’re being delusional,” I tell her, pursing my lips and if I didn’t love her so much, I’ll probably punch her in the nose, but somehow I hold back the attack.
“Of course it’s my fault Noah’s in love with you,” CeCe says dramatically, looking heavenwards, like she has her plate full with me and needs him to grant her strength.
“Shh,” I hush her, blushing from the roots of my black hair to the tips of my Jimmy Choo’s-clad toes, “keep your voice down!”
“Fine,” CeCe huffs, slumping down in her seat, thankfully, “but don’t kill the messenger just because. You asked me, and I told you the truth.”
“It’s not the truth when it’s not true,” I state, grinding my teeth and my blood is boiling and I feel like I’m reaching a breaking point. After everything going on with Brayden, I don’t need to add more drama to my ever growing pile of problems.
“Sure,” CeCe drawls sarcastically and maybe it’s thanks to her recent break-up with Dale, but CeCe’s being meaner and harsher than normal, “but that doesn’t change the facts. Noah never, ever got over you. Why do you think Lola was afraid to go after him? She was afraid he’d end up breaking her heart for you.”
CeCe gets her point across, that’s for sure, and as much as I dread admitting it even to myself, I have nothing to say that. I feel cornered and hopeless because as the pieces are falling together, my curiosity begins to get the best of me once more and I watch it unravel.
“But… but that doesn’t make sense,” I say futilely, my shoulders drooping because I hate to think I’m the reason for my friends’ heartbreak. The fact that Lola wouldn’t chase after something she so strongly desires doesn’t add up and makes me second-guess myself. Granted, Noah’s the resident Casanova and goes through girls like tissues, but a little bit of challenge has never scared Lola, or thrown her off her trail. Unless the obstacle in the way is… me. She’d never do anything that can eventually hurt me, even in some roundabout way. She won’t ever let me the collateral damage.
“Love rarely does,” CeCe assures me and upon seeing the heartbroken look in my glassy eyes, her own eyes soften just a notch, “if it did make sense, I wouldn’t be in love with Dale, you know? But I am because it’s way beyond our control,” she concludes, sighing helplessly and squeezing my hand, trying to send me a small, encouraging smile, but it looks more like a grimace instead. Any other time I’d feel proud of my best friend for making such profound observations, but all I can feel presently is my heart breaking inside my chest like a glass figurine.
As if things weren’t bad enough already, I have one more thing to lose sleep over.
Oh, the joys of being Sydney Miller, they’re endless.
A/N: A lot of you probably (and hopefully) already saw this coming. It's Noah. *gasp* Tbh, when this story was still pretty much in the planning stage, Noah wasn't supposed to be a part of it, but he wormed his way into my heart and here it is. I couldn't control it. :D So yeah, hopefully you liked it. :) 'Till next time, lovelies! Also, I'm sorry for all the silly mistakes you might spot in this chap, I didn't have time to edit it at all.