There's a second where I go to breathe, and I can't. It's like I'm back in that swimming pool, the force of the water pressing down on all sides, suffocating me. And just when I think fear will take me completely, I find it.
My voice.
"Help!" I shout, breaking from Noah's grip, "someone help her!" My steps carry me past the several unaffected faces and down the pool's steps, allowing the water to lap my legs. I stretch out my fingers, pointing to the head of blonde hair, willing myself forward. Closer.
Blonde hair. Bikini. Addy.
People say when fear kicks in, you're left with two choices: fight or flight. But sometimes, when you're really scared, you do the one thing worse than either.
Freeze.
My world shrinks. The hum of rowdy teenagers morphs into a roaring of blood in my ears. Move, Ever. Do something.
I grab the railing, willing my legs to push away from the steps, when Noah darts past me, sprinting toward the deep end. He reaches the ledge and, without hesitation, dives into the water head first, disappearing under the surface.
I crouch down low, terror and guilt slamming into me in waves as I wait for him to resurface. Maybe if I weren't so terrified, I'd have realized sooner. Maybe I'd have looked at the crowd, at the several Calbears grinning in amusement, and put two and two together, but I don't. I grip the rail harder, watching as Noah holds the girl in his arms, lifting her head. And in the second it takes for his face to contort, for realization to kick in, I realize it too.
It's a sex doll.
The rooftop echoes with the hyena-like laughter of the Calbears. Noah pivots his body, aligning himself to face me directly, and even under the dim glow of fairy lights, I can discern the regret on his face. He releases his arm from the doll's body, pushing it aside with force.
Acid burns my throat as it bobs along the surface. I can't cry. The best thing to do is pretend I don't care, but then a few of the Calbears, determined to continue their drunken display of assholery, begin throwing the doll back and forth like a volleyball. It sails through the air, drenched hair whipping across her face, limbs awkwardly flailing, and stopping the tears become impossible.
"Help!" Riley, one of the Calbears, shouts, imitating a high-pitched voice. "Someone help! Here–" he turns toward me, getting ready to launch the doll, "–catch!"
The second Riley turns, Noah's fist comes hard and fast in his face. He flies backward, his grip on the doll slipping as he clutches his nose, fingers seeping with blood. A stunned silence blankets the pool before the boys spring forward, their bodies colliding in a flurry of fists and grappling arms.
"Hey!" Jesse shouts, his voice cutting through the commotion. The crowd opens up as he steps forward, observing his teammates below. "That's enough." When neither listens, Jesse runs a hand down his jaw, mutters something under his breath, and jumps in to separate them. I back up slowly, hit with the sinking realization that this, all of it, is my fault.
I'm not the only one thinking it. I turn to find several pairs of eyes on me, their gazes cutting as they whisper to their friends. I need to get out of here. Now. Legs shaking, I push through the crowd to get to the elevator, unsure of where I'm going but knowing if I don't leave now, I'll burst into tears – as if I need more humiliation.
Somewhere in the distance is the distinct sound of Noah shouting Blue, but I don't slow down. I can't. I reach the elevator, then glance at the group nearby busy laughing. They probably didn't even see what happened, but my cheeks flare red like they were laughing at me. As if everyone is. I force myself past them, hurrying past the line of people waiting for the elevator to the emergency staircase.
A thick lump lodges in my throat as I dash down the stairs. I reach the next floor, about to sail past Noah's apartment on my way to the lobby, when guilt jerks me to a stop. As badly as I want to run and hide, I can't just leave until I know he's okay.
Thank god the hallway leading to his apartment is empty. Even so, I wait a few moments, listening out for the sound of drunken kids, but other than faint music drifting down from the rooftop, it's silent. I walk the rest of the distance to his apartment and settle on the floor, leaning against his door for support.
Breathe, Ever. One long breath in, another back out, like the tide. It works until I glance at the elevator, struck by the thought that maybe Noah doesn't want to see me. Why would he? It's my fault he jumped into the water tonight, my fault he resorted to punching a teammate, which means if Coach finds out what happened tonight, it'll be my fault he loses his spot as Captain.
I draw my knees up to my chest, contemplating whether to head home. Just as I'm leaning toward yes, Noah steps out of the elevator and briefly scans the hallway. His gaze locks onto me, freezing in surprise as he takes in my childlike position. I must look pathetic – I feel pathetic –but maybe that's why, instead of turning around and pretending he never saw me, his eyes soften.
He hardly makes a sound as he crosses the hallway. His t-shirt is drenched, his dark hair clinging to his forehead in clumps, and it's hard to tell if his hard-set jaw is left over from his fight with Riley or reserved just for me; I pray it's the former.
With an inch of space left to go, he stops. I pause for a moment before lifting my head, deliberately avoiding his gaze to settle on his pink, blotchy cheek. No doubt Riley looks ten times worse, but Noah isn't exactly what I'd consider unscathed. I open my mouth, only to find the stone in my throat has returned with a vengeance, and I can't speak. Not without crying.
It ends up not mattering. Noah lowers himself to his knees until our eyes meet. I hold my legs tighter, noticing every droplet on his lashes and the slight glisten on his skin. I realize his lip is cut, bloody from where Riley landed a hit, and I resist the urge to run a finger across it.
"Noah, I'm so, so sorry," I say, blowing out the breath I've been holding. "This is all my fault. I just saw that doll, and I thought–"
He's hugging me before I can finish, holding me tight between his arms. I settle into him, my cheek pressed up against his steadily pounding heart like it's the easiest thing in the world. "She looked so real," I whisper, my voice cracking. If I end up in tears on the day I made tryouts, I will never forgive myself. "I'm sorry for embarrassing you."
"Listen to me, Blue," he says, pulling back. "You didn't embarrass anyone, alright? You saw what looked like someone in trouble, and you tried to help. It could have happened to anyone. Hell, I only realized once I got closer. Those things are scarily realistic, and once I find out who bought it, they're dead."
Eyes closed, I try – and fail – to keep a tear from escaping, feeling it slip down my cheek. Noah brushes away with his thumb, tilting my head to look at him. "Don't cry, Blue," he whispers. "Please."
"I can't help it." I brace for impact as a wave of guilt rolls over me. "You should be mad at me."
His frown deepens. "Why the hell would I be mad at you, Blue?"
Maybe he hasn't worked it out yet. "You got into a fight with a teammate, Noah. If Coach finds out, you could lose your spot as Captain. You could be kicked off the team completely."
His shoulders sink, so I know he at least has given it some thought, but nothing about his expression changes. "Leave me to worry about that," he says, "alright? The only thing you should have been thinking about tonight is the fact you made tryouts, and I'm sorry that my teammates ruined it for you." His head dips, and I've never seen him look so guilty. "You don't know how sorry, Blue."
He pulls me tightly against him, his hand gently caressing my hair as I nestle against his chest. I can't figure out how the best day turned into the worst day and back into a good day, but I'm learning not to question it.
"Come on," Noah says finally, getting to his feet, "I have something I want to give you." He takes my hand, and even though part of me will always be cautious, I accept it without question, allowing him to lead me into his apartment.
The first thing that hits me is how good it smells in here, like Noah, only stronger. I let my eyes wander as he switches on the lights, taking in the neat, plumped pillows and tidy kitchen counters. "I see your cleaner has stopped by again."
"Nope, this was all me," he says, kicking off his shoes. He picks them up off the floor, placing them on the shoe rack at the perfect ninety-degree angle. And he had the audacity to call me anal.
"So, what exactly are you showing me?" I ask. "Is it PG?" With Noah, it's anyone's guess.
The grin that crosses his face is contagious. "Wait here," he says and jogs into his bedroom, rummaging around before returning several seconds later with a box. Intrigued, I step closer, ignoring the slight summersault of my heart to take in the delicious-as-hell cupcakes, adorned with blue frosting and pink fondant swimsuits.
"For making the team," he says, leaning in, and the moment he lowers his voice, I shiver. "Like I knew you would."
Even though I'm desperately trying to hold it together, I feel crying all over again. This time, out of happiness. "Those look amazing," I say as I ogle at the box, "but what would you have done with them if I hadn't made the team?"
"Flicked off the swimsuits and given them to you anyway," Noah says, winking. "Cupcakes are versatile like that."
I laugh and gently shove his chest, surprised when he grabs my hand and interlocks our fingers. His arm encircles me, drawing me closer until his mouth is just below my ear.
"Sleep over tonight, Blue," he says before wincing. "Not like that. I just mean it's late, and you're probably still drunk. Crash here tonight, and I'll order you an Uber in the morning. I'll even sleep on the couch."
I don't answer right away. It's a huge step – though whether it's in the right or wrong direction remains to be seen – but Noah is right. It's late, I'm tired, and all I want to do after tonight's sex doll disaster is climb into bed, even if that bed happens to be Noah's.
Especially Noah's.
"Okay," I say, taking a deep breath. I'll stay."
A/N
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