Chapter Eight
965 Words
It's been a while since I have been in a relationship.
I am not sure I remember what it's meant to be like.
What should be happening?
What shouldn't be happening?
What is 'going too fast'?
What is 'normal'?
What is 'unrealistic'?
I don't really have any form of a yardstick to measure this against, and I don't particularly trust my sense of perception right now.
So I just end up comparing it to our magical 'what-if' relationship.
I know it wasn't real, and it's definitely not fair to Noel, but I do it anyway.
Because the alternative of comparing it to my relationship with Harry definitely wouldn't be fair.
But me and you, we have had some amazing dates. I can't remember the last time I went on a date.
Nerve-wracking does not even begin to describe how I felt the night he took me out for dinner.
And although the evening was absolutely perfect, it still doesn't come close to my favourite.
It wasn't meant to be a date, I wasn't meant to see him that night.
Noel had called, just to say hi.
I had just finished a call with Harry.
Yes he still calls.
And yes, I still answer.
What can I say, I have always been a glutton for punishment.
To tell you the truth, part of me hopes that I can save him.
Because if I can save him, there might be hope for me.
And I really, really want to believe that I can be saved.
So, I was feeling pretty down and hearing Noel's voice at that time was just the nudge I needed to send me over the edge.
Before I knew what was happening, I was a slobbering mess.
I don't think I knew why I was crying, but I was.
No, I am lying, I knew why I was crying.
I am still the same girl who didn't deserve you, still the same girl who doesn't deserve Noel.
Just as I hung up on Noel, deciding that she no longer needed to endure my various levels of crazy. And most importantly, convinced that I had assured him that I was ok I hear him on the other side of my front door.
He just showed up. When he heard me crying on the phone he had already decided to come and make sure I was ok in person.
We spent the night on the couch, watching Netflix, eating our way through Mr Wong's take-out menu.
It wasn't until I went to answer the door to collect our second, maybe third delivery that I realized I was in sweatpants and an old t-shirt.
Standing at the kitchen counter, debating whether or not I should make a run for my bedroom and change my clothes or just let it go, Noel was standing beside me.
Taking the bag of food from my hands and unpacking it on the counter, he glanced at me and simply said.
"I like those sweatpants."
Blushing all possible shades of crimson, I couldn't stop the goofy smile on my face.
Nor could I stop the sing-song voice in my head; he likes me, he likes me, he really really likes me.
We spent the rest of the evening watching tv, holding hands, stealing glances and mostly making out like teenagers.
I liked the last part the best.
We fell asleep in each others arms that night.
I didn't think it was such a big deal, until I tried falling asleep by myself the following night.
I couldn't. Nor the night after that.
That's the thing about Noel.
I don't know how he does it, but it's done.
He has lodged himself in my every thought.
I find myself wanting more and more.
Wanting more of him,
Wanting more of us.
Wanting.
I have fallen too far.
I am in too deep.
I don't know how to get back out.
I am not sure if I want to get back out.
Noel makes me smile.
He makes me want to smile.
Deep down in my soul I am smiling.
And this scares the s**t out of me.
He loves me.
He really loves me.
I can see it in everything he does.
The way he speaks to me.
The way he reaches out to hold my hand, gently, always fearful, almost like he thinks he might scare me off.
The way he always remembers that I hate the cherry on the top of my ice cream sundae, but I love the cherry sauce on the ice cream.
The way he knows that I hate reading, but will never admit it out loud, because I am afraid it will make me sound dumb.
The way he knows the 74th Street diner freaks me out for no valid reason, so we never walk that way, even though it would save us ten minutes on our walk home from the park.
The way he whispers that he loves me every night, like he is literally afraid that saying it out loud will freak me out.
And he is right, it will.
Because saying it out loud would make it real.
And making it real would mean that I would have to tell him everything.
No one wants to know everything about me.
No one needs to be weighed down with my ugly.
Noel is light and beautiful.
He doesn't need my dark and ugly.
No one needs my dark and ugly
I have worked long and hard at putting it behind me.
I deserve light and beautiful.
I deserve Noel.
I need to tell Noel everything.
But I know if I do, he will take away the smile.
I am not ready to lose it.
I am not ready to lose Noel.
- Writer
