Bad Things

|Chapter Eleven|

Noah was true to his word.  He left me alone. 

And in being alone I was trapped with my own thoughts and guilt over what had happened to Jackson.  I couldn't stop looking over my shoulder, metaphorically.  Every time I heard a knock on my door, which was either a delivery or was actually a knock at another apartment, I thought I was at the end.

I did what I was supposed to and called periodically to see if there were any updates with the police.  They told me he probably ran, but I knew the truth.  It didn't stop my heart from racing every time I passed a cop on the street or when they would come into Marathon to patrol.

I had a full bill of health, my bruises were gone and I could finally take a full breath without doubling over in pain.  I did finally go talk to that therapist.  I went one time before I decided it was too hard to pour my heart out and try to keep my secrets at the same time.

I felt like I was missing a piece of myself.  Noah had integrated his way into my life, weaving himself into my daily routine.  He wasn't here anymore.  I didn't see him in the hallway or at Marathon.  He was just a ghost in my life now.

As much as I hadn't seen him, I knew he was still checking up on me.  Every Wednesday without fail there were wild flowers sitting in front of my door.  I had seen Nick trailing me on more than one occasion. 

It's late Sunday night, after a long night at Marathon and it's nearing 1 in the morning.  I'm trying to unlock my door when I hear Noah's relaxed tenor, but it's more urgent than normal.  I pause to hear what he's saying and who he's saying it to.  I haven't laid eyes on him in over a month.

"Please be quiet, you are going to wake the neighbors," Noah pleads with whoever he's fighting.

"I'm not even being that loud," it's a girls voice, it is loud - twice as loud as Noah was. 

"That's because you are too drunk," I hear Noah seemingly say to himself.

"I'm not even drunk," she slurs.  She's definitely drunk, I try to ease around the corner to see who the culprit is.  I don't recognize her, but that doesn't mean anything.  I've seen Noah talk to exactly one girl and she was a fan.  "Are you going to invite me in?"

"Come in, but please keep it down," Noah catches me watching him as he helps the girl into his apartment. His face drops, mimicking the sinking feeling in my stomach.

"You just don't want that girl that you can't shut up about to hear," she sneers as he walks by him.

Noah raises his eyebrows in challenge to me.  I'm conflicted.  She couldn't mean me, and even if she did she's obviously a booty call.  I shake my head at him before turning to go inside.

"Olivia, wait," I can hear Noah's slides slapping the concrete floor as he tries to catch up to me.

"You shouldn't keep your company waiting," I retort.

"Jesus fucking Christ, would you just talk to me?"

"About what, Noah?" I ask him.

"What is going on?  I thought things were going okay and then you left me and completely shut me out.  Why won't you just tell me what has you so upset?"

"That's funny because I thought things were going well too," I say to him, finally unlocking the door.

"Just please talk to me, I don't know what I did," his eyes are pleading as he searches mine.

I open my mouth to finally say something, to tell him to come in and have it out, when I remember he literally has a booty call in his apartment.  As if on cue, the drunk girl appears in the hallway again, completely naked.