Page 78 of City of Love

I shake my head slowly, my heart clenching with pain at the name. “Don’t call me that, please.”

I sound so classy, I note dully.I’m not screaming or throwing things.

Noel visibly swallows and then nods. “All right.”

I try to force my tears away, but they still sting in the corners of my eyes, and I look away so that he won’t see them.

I try to tell myself that this doesn’t change anything. I can still be proud of myself. I was still brave. But I can’t tell Noel—Iwon’ttell him. Because his eyes would shine with pride, and he would give me that soft smile, and I couldn’t handle that. It would hurt too much.

“I understand,” I say instead, because the silence is suffocating. “Really, I do,” I add when I see the skeptical look he’s giving me. I don’t call him out on using my safety as an excuse, because I know it’s his way of trying not to hurt me. I think the more likely truth is that he simply doesn’t know how to tell me he doesn’t want anything more than friendship.

But it’s fine. It’s done.

“Are you ready to go?” he says into the awkward silence.

“I’m very ready to go,” I say, and I’ve never meant the words more fervently. Because if I’m sure of one thing, it’s that spending the next two weeks with Noel is going to be torture. Especially when all I want to do is cry.

What is it that hurts so much about the loss of a dream you’ve only barely caught a glimpse of? Is it that it’s still fresh, still new, and there’s something innately wrong about the death of such things? Is it that a loss so soon after a win is a cruel slap to the face?

I’ve broken up with boyfriends before. I’ve been cheated on. But none of that hurt like this does. This is a mocking, taunting ache deep in my soul, and I don’t even know why. We only kissed. There was no profession of love, no talk of an actual relationship.

And yet…my heart doesn’t seem to care about any of that. My heart, apparently, is a drama queen. Because it feels like something has died, killed by my foolish hopes and naive expectations.

I’m left to my thoughts as we return to Noel’s parents’, and by the time we arrive, I’m wishing desperately that I could go home to Stone Springs.

No one but me will ever want you. You know that, don’t you?

By the time I bid Noel an immediate goodnight, I’m more than desperate.

I try to talk myself into sticking it out. I wasn’t going to let Marcus ruin this trip; I’m not going to let Noel ruin it either.

But there’s a numbness spreading over me, pulling me under, and before it overtakes me completely I recognize that it isn’t Noel or even Marcus ruining this trip—because the only entity my mind recognizes right now is pain. There is no Marcus, no Noel, no Paris. There is only pain.

The pain of my stupidity for thinking anyone wanted me. The pain of knowing Marcus was right. It didn’t even matter that I reported Marcus. None of it mattered. Because I’m still here with a hole where my heart is supposed to be, and I’m still afraid.

Afraid that my heart will never be mine again. Afraid that my mind will always belong to Marcus.

No one but me…

And one hour later, I call Mlle Hilliard to tell her I want to stay with her after all. I pack my bags in the dead of night, pulling things from the closet mechanically and dumping them in suitcases, working quietly so that Noel doesn’t hear me. I do speak to Mme Marchand, telling her that there was an issue with another student and that I’d feel most comfortable staying with someone I know. I emphasize to her that she’s been nothing but wonderful. When she asks if Noel and I have had a falling out, I skirt the topic. The suspicious look she gives me tells me she’s not convinced, but she doesn’t press the issue. Once I’ve got everything ready, I grab a pen and paper and begin to write.

“Shouldn’t you talk to Noel?” Mme Marchand says anxiously as she waits with me.

“We’re better with letters,” I tell her, handing her the paper to give him in the morning.

“Better on paper?” she says, smiling sympathetically.

“No,” I say, shaking my head sadly and biting back tears. “We make even less sense on paper than we do in real life.” I don’t offer her any more, and she doesn’t ask.

No one.

Chapter 25

Noel

Ibarely sleep at all after breaking things off with Lydia.

Can it even be called that if the romance had only barely started? I don’t know. All I know is that yesterday I was allowed to kiss Lydia, to hold her, and today I can’t.

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