Page 81 of Prove Me Wrong
Music plays softly through the stereo, and I’m grateful that it’s an old INXS song—one of my favourites. It helps to calm my nerves. I don’t remember if he set it to this, or if it was already playing—I wasn’t paying attention. His car also smells like him—manly, greasy and earthy. Every breath I inhale, Noah’s scent settles my beating pulse that rattles my veins and bones.
I hate that I feel this weak from a simple touch. From some words being whispered in my ear. From a hand touching me that wasn’t his. That I froze up like a deer in headlights when I should have fought back.
But I couldn’t.
If it wasn’t for Noah stepping in…
Another thick tear slips from my dark lashes, and I lick my drying lips, tasting salt on them.
Pulling up in Noah’s driveway, he switches off the ignition, letting out a slow exhale. Keeping his gaze focused beyond the windshield at his house, his hands resting on the steering wheel. We stay silent for a few long beats. All I can hear are my muffled sniffs and the chattering of my teeth.
“Are you okay?” His words are huskier than usual, almost like they’re frightened for me. Afraid of how I’m feeling inside.
Swallowing the hard lump in my throat, I slowly nod. Eyes falling to my shaking hands, my mouth dries with anxiety. Letting out a wobbly breath, I try to contain myself, to keep myself together in one piece, but it feels useless.
Noah’s calloused hand reaches out to cup mine, and an involuntary sob escapes my throat, heavy and raw, as water rushes from my eyes.
“Grey,” he says tenderly, but I can’t look at him.
This is not how I imagined opening up to him. For Noah to see how vulnerable and broken I am, but I can’t hold it back. He’s going to see everything, and I just pray that he doesn’t see me as the ruined thing Ryan promised I’d be for every man.
We sit in silence until my cries are softer, and my hands are more controlled. Noah's hands slip away, the sudden disconnect making my heart ache. He gets out, enclosing me inside the contained space alone.
My door swings open a few seconds later, and before I can lift my chin to peer up at his troubled gaze, Noah’s hands slide under my thighs and back. He pulls me out of the car with ease. I curl against him, hating that I feel so fragile. That I’m so shaky. I’m so grateful that he’s all I haveright now. I don’t want anyone else at this moment. Only him.
Unlocking his front door, Noah carries me to sit on his comfortable couch, silence filling the house. He kneels in front of me with heavy green eyes framed in gilded lashes and sun-kissed cheekbones. His voice cracks when he asks, “Grey, what happened?”
My lips shake as I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, telling him in a raspy tone, “He—he touched—I didn’t want—scared me too much.” The words fall out of my mouth incoherently. I push bitter bile back down my throat.
“He only touched you once, right?” Noah’s tone sharpens.
I nod, looking into his deep gaze, which is murky from the tears glassing my own. “Yes,” I barely whisper.
Noah’s mouth tenses, his eyes shimmering with hatred and compassion, pulling me closer like magnets. “You know that I used to get panic attacks as well.”
I blink at him, unsure of what to say. I would never have expected him to lose his control like I do.
“I know how they make you feel. Like you’re drowning. Like you can’t breathe. Your body isn’t in control, and it fights you when you try to handle it.”
My teeth sink into my lip, eyes lowering, fingers tightening on my lap. “I hate them,” I admit softly, bitterness coating my tongue like metal.
His head tilts to one side as a hand wraps around my own. It’s warm and rough but feels perfect against mine, brushing my skin like a feather before enveloping them in his larger ones. “What happened to you?”
Noah’s eyes soften. I stare into his apple irises, feeling the weight of his gaze like he’s trying to read what’s scarred my heart so deeply. “I?—”
“Whatelse did he do to you?”
My eyes flick down, his stare becoming too intense. I cough out, “He said something to me, and it frightened me.”
“What was it?”
I bite down on my lip, tasting blood in my mouth, like tangy iron. “He wanted to hear me scream.” My voice is strained with dread.
Noah’s eyes close, and I feel mine watering even more when he shuffles closer. “Scott is a pig. I’ve never trusted him.” He digs his fingers through his golden hair. “I am so sorry this happened to you, Grey.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t want to go. Lila wanted to play pool with them, not me. I didn’t want to be there.”
Nodding, his hands grip mine tightly, comforting me silently. He's looking at me like I’m all that matters right now. “Well, I hate her for making you do that. She shouldn’t force you into anything you’re not comfortable with.”
