Never Ever

48| With love, Noah

3:05 am. 

My heart pounds like a jackhammer as I sit up in bed, staring at the missed call glowing on my screen. I don't know what woke me, only that something told me to check my phone, and when I did, I was already too late.

Fingers trembling, I tap the voicemail.

"Blue, it's me."

As if it could be anyone else. No one calls me that except Noah, and even if they did, I'd know his voice anywhere. It's low, soft, and threaded with that familiar mix of concern and something deeper, like I'm the only thing that matters.

"I'm sorry for calling so late. Or calling at all, I guess."

I close my eyes, swallowing hard against the lump rising in my throat. If I'd been just a few minutes faster, I might be hearing his voice for real instead of through a message.

"I just–" He breaks off as the thump of a bass pounds in the background, drowning out his words. He's in a club, which only strengthens my sudden urge to cry. Not because he went without me, but because I'd spent weeks holding on to the idea of us there together. Laughing. Dancing. Forgetting everything else for a while. But instead, I'm here while he's thousands of miles away. "I just called to say I'm sorry, Blue. And that I miss you so fucking much."

Tears well in my eyes before I can stop them. I squeeze them shut, and there he is, clear as ever in my mind. Dark hair. Sharp cheekbones. That Noah Atterwood grin. "I miss you too," I say, even though I know he can't hear me. 

I might as well be talking to a ghost. 

"I should've never let you go." 

He sounds drunk, and his words are slightly slurred, which only makes this harder. What if it's just the alcohol talking? The music gets louder. I catch Jesse's voice in the background, and Addy's too, trying to pull him away, but he doesn't stop.

"I was wrong, Blue. So fucking wrong it's killing me. I wish I could hold you. Kiss you."

The tears I've been holding in fall fast and hot, and all I can do is sit here in the dark, clutching the phone like it's really him I'm holding. No matter how hard I've tried to convince myself I'm okay with giving him space, having to walk away from him crushed me. 

It's still crushing me. 

"You're the only thing that's ever made me feel alive," he whispers. "More than swimming. More than anything. You're it for me. There's no one else."

God, I want to believe him. I want to reach through the phone and wrap my arms around him until neither of us can breathe. But it wasn't that long ago he looked me in the eyes and told me he couldn't stand to see me because I reminded him of everything he'd lost. And now, in the space of just a few weeks, my guard has already started rebuilding itself, desperately trying to protect what's left of my heart.

"I know I broke your trust. I know I don't deserve a second chance." His voice shifts into something frantic now. "But if you decide to give me one, or even if you just want to tell me to go fuck myself to my face, I'll be waiting on the rooftop on New Year's Eve."

The line cuts off, but I keep staring at the screen like his name might light up again. Like maybe he'll call back and explain to me just what the hell he thinks he's doing leaving me a message like this in the middle of the night, but he doesn't. 

I set the phone down and lie back, blinking up at the ceiling as his words loop in my head. It's official: I'm a wreck. Every part of me hurts in a way that I can't put into words. Knowing he's hurting. Knowing I still miss him with everything I have. Knowing that if I let myself believe him, I might end up with my heart broken all over again. It's a deep, aching kind of pain that only gets worse the harder you try to ignore it, until suddenly, I can't breathe.