Decisions | Noah Sebastian

Chapter 4

The second I heard the door close a second time, the crying started. I made her cry, and that thought broke my heart. I knew she was a kind person, the second we stepped into this house, you could feel how welcoming she was trying to be. And I made her cry. I don't know why that's setting me so wrong.

It was probably fifteen minutes later when there was another knock on my door. "Come in." I say, hoping it was her, and that she was okay. Unfortunately, it was a rather pissed off Nick Folio. "Listen man," I start. "No, you listen, man. You have no right to ask her about shit that isn't any of your business. You've been a right asshole to her since we got here and I don't understand it. She is the sweetest human I know, and there are moments in my life I wouldn't have survived without her. You're either going to straighten your shit out or you can go cozy up to Veronica and you two can be miserable together." He says, and I can tell he's trying not to yell. "You done?" I ask him, not in the slightest phased by his empty threats. Folio sighs and throws his hands up, my turn. "Veronica and I are done. I broke things off this morning. She heard me sulking and came to check in. I asked her to come in for some advice and then I asked about the tattoo on her butt cheek because you displayed it to all of us when you dragged her down the stairs. I saw the scar sitting right above it and I guess I just blanked. I panicked and asked how it happened without thinking. I hate that I made her feel like that, and I do intend on setting shit straight after I get done with this conversation."

He starts shaking his head. I tilt mine in return. "What? Is there something in all of this I'm missing?" "No." he starts, "she's asleep right now and we're going to let her sleep. When she wakes up, there's going to be pizza and coke on the bar, some shitty horror movie ready to play in the living room and we're not going to bring it up again. She's going to shower and we're going to set all of that up and make her feel better. Nana has gone out of town to visit her sister for a couple of weeks, leaving us to ourselves, and we're going to spoil that girl in there to no end. She deserves it. More than any of you know." He says, turns and walks out, not giving me a chance to respond. Jesus, what did I start.

A few hours later I hear shuffling down the stairs. After Folio tore me a new one, we all convened in the living room to go over the plans for the next couple of days and to just hang out, forgetting earlier's tension. We also talk about how Nicholas has been summoned home for our break to be with his family and how Jolly was headed back to L.A. to take care of some things. I think they both decided that they didn't necessarily want to spend their break in small town U.S.A. I don't mind it, purely because I have nothing better to do and maybe the bustle of the house will distract me from what I'm potentially going home to.

Looking over, I see Emerson. Her eyes are puffy from crying and her hair is sticking up in all directions. "Orange juice." Is all she says as she walks over to the fridge. She grabs her drink and then walks over to the living room. I expect her to go over to the recliner chair her grandmother was sitting in a couple of nights ago, but instead she comes over and stands by me. "You're in my chair." She says, her face dead serious as she takes a sip of her juice. I look over at Folio and then back at her. Is she serious? "You're...chair?"

"Yes, Noah. That's my chair. I'm not in the mood to be polite enough to sit somewhere else. So please be nice enough to move." She is serious. I think about moving, I really do, but then I think about something better. I nod and swivel the chair so that it's facing her. I act like I'm about to get up, but instead I grab her bridal style and sit her in my lap. Her legs drape over mine, and her back is pressed into my shoulder. I move my right arms to lay over her legs and my right to her side. "I've decided I like the chair, so we can share it." I smile, trying to act serious. She huffs, but just leans back and gets comfortable, sipping her juice and just listening to the conversation. Her sugar must be low, that or she's still exhausted from earlier.