Nothing Less

Chapter Twelve.

Songs for this chapter are:

Waiting Game - Banks

Andrew Belle- In My Veins

Amber Run- I Found Love

...

Nora's POV.

I know that if I nod, all bets are off. Landon will press his mouth to mine and there will be no more talking. That can't happen. Not that I don't want it to, because boy, do I.

"Skip," I say into his mouth. His eyes drop, ever so slightly, and I immediately explain.

I hate the look touching his eyes. I saw it in Scarsdale and when I left outside of Juliette. Sadness should never touch Landon, not him.

"I'm skipping the question. If I don't, we will never talk like this," I tell him. Each word burns like bleach down my throat. I want his hands on me more than I would ever be stupid enough to admit.

I kept on telling myself to keep my distance from this boy.

He's too young for you, Nora.

Too young.

I look at the dark stubble on his chin. He was freshly shaven yesterday. I can't believe that's something I actually pay attention to, but I can't help but notice. The hair grows thicker around his chin. He doesn't look so young now, standing in front of me with his eyes on me. His eyes aren't as young as his body. There's something older, wiser, inside of them. I don't know what it was, but something hurt him deeper than just a break-up with Dakota.

"You're skipping the question?" His lips turn up forming a shy smile and his arms close tighter around me. He's still gripping the edge of the counter, but the safe space between us is getting smaller and smaller.

I nod and his smile grows. Barely moving, he shakes his head, just slightly.

My god, he's convincing.

And too nice.

He's too nice for you, Nora.

Way, way, way too nice.

Fuck, I've turned into that woman who I always thought I despised. I hate women like that, they are the literal worst.

This is how that woman works,

Phase One: She sits around with her closest friends, drinking wine in their pajamas. "I've dated too many assholes. Why are all men assholes?" She cries into her cheap moscato. "No more assholes for me," she promises, and raises her coffee mug full of wine.

Phase Two: She shows up to coffee with her friends. She suddenly likes bitter coffee because her new beau does and he's nice and smart and she's never dating an asshole again. "He's so sweet." She tells her friends. And she's right, you won't find him at a bar on a Friday night, or nursing a hangover on Saturday morning. You'll find him walking the aisles of Anthroplogy, holding her coffee while she tries on everything in the store.

Phase Three: She sits with her friends at a nightclub, dressed in a new black dress and has actually curled her hair for the first time in a month. She's wearing full makeup, not for her nice guy, not even for herself. "I'm kinda not sure about him anymore. He's kind of boring," she will complain and share a smile with a hot guy in the crowd.

Phase Four: (last and final phase)

She sits on her couch, watching reruns of Grey's Anatomy. Her friends sit around her with wine in their hands. "Men are such assholes," she says, because the hot guy from the club cheated on her and now she's back to Phase One.