Beautiful Quotes

Anna Todd 11

Chapter four- Nothing Less

"When was your last relationship?"

        Her eyes narrow but she doesn't look away. "It's complicated."

                 "Everything is."

       She smiles at that.

           "Tell me about it, I want to know about you. Let me," I encourage her.

             "I don't want you to know about me," she says and I can feel the conviction in her words. She means them and that kind of strings.

             "Why?"

             The pillow is covering her chest now and her fingers are gripping the top corners of it. I remember when Gran, Ken's mom, gave me the pillow. She told me that she bought the same one for Hardin, but when Ken took out the trash that same day, he found the blue and yellow pillow in the trash. I kept mine, and I'm convinced that when Ken gives Hardin the pillow back someday, he will be ready to keep it.

               Nora hasn't responded to my question.

             "Why? Tell me why you don't want me to know you," a hint of anger bubbles in my chest. "You like me, Nora. Why can't you just let me get know you?"

          "You won't like me anymore. If you keep digging around, you won't like what you discover," Nora stands up and tosses the pillow onto the couch.

It falls on the floor and neither of us move to pick it up.

           "I told you from the beginning that this isn't going anywhere," she says.

             I stay in the chair. If I get up, she's going to slap me or kiss me, and as much as I would like both of those options, we need to have an actual conversation for once.

               "You say that," I begin, "but we kiss or... well, you know. If you just told me the reason you're trying to keep me at a distance, we could figure it out together," I keep eye contact with her.

"This is the thing I don't understand about humans I'll never understand why people can't just say what they feel and talk about shit. I don't get it. Nothing can be that bad. Nothing is too bad to figure out. I'm not some asshole guy who will pretend to be here for you and then disappear." I stand up, I want to be closer to her. She takes a step back.

"I don't have any intention other than getting close to you. Believe me. Or at least allow yourself to try to," I ask of her.

            "You don't even know what you're saying. You don't know anything about me. You barely noticed that I existed until two weeks ago," Nora says.

          Her hands are in balls at her sides and she takes two steps closer to me.

        "Barely knew you excited?" I repeat her absurd claim.

              "You were so wrapped up in Dakota that nothing else mattered," Nora huffs. "I don't know why are you talking about we are friends. Nothing more."

         "But-"

           "No fucking but," she hisses. " I'm tired of people telling me what I'm supposed to do or how I'm supposed to act or feel. If I say we are friends, we are fucking friend. If I say I never want to see you again, then I won't ever see you again. I'm capable of making my own decisions and just because you think you're a damn therapist, doesn't mean I have to talk to you. Not everyone wants to sit down their fucking guts to a stranger."

          "I'm not a stranger. You can try to convince yourself that I am, but you know I'm not." I try to break through the wall that she's so adamant about keeping between us. I don't think I'm a therapist, I just don't have a with saying how I feel.

              "Oh really?" Nora says, almost shouting.

             "Yes, really!" I try to mock her anger, but it doesn't work. I'm not angry and I don't really understand why she is.

              "How many times did you see me before you moved here?" She asks.

            What does this have to do with anything?

Before I can answer, she adds, "Think about it before you answer.

         I've seen her once or twice. I remember seeing her at my mom's house at least once. Ken knows her dad somehow.

         "You were at my mom's house. We had dinner once." I tell her, proving her wrong.

             She laughs but it's not from amusement.

             "See," her hands move in front of her like she's pushing the air toward me.

            I keep my eyes on hers even though I want to look away.

"Eight times," her voice breaks through the silence. "Eight times is how many times we saw each other. It doesn't surprise me that you don't remember."

"There's no way. I would remember that."

"Really? Remember when we were talking about Hardin and how I didn't know him? I kept hoping you would remember. I was there when he slammed you against the wall at your parents' house. I remember when he raised his fist to you but he couldn't hit you because he loved you. I remember sitting at your kitchen table a few days before that and you were talking to me about college and how you hope Tessa got into NYU. I remember the blue of your shirt and the honey flakes in your eyes. I remember the way you smelled like syrup and blushed when your mom licked her finger and wiped your cheek. I remember every detail—and you know why?" She asks and I'm stunned into silence.

"Ask me why!" she demands.

"Why?" The word is a pitiful sound from an idiot's mouth.

"Because I was paying attention. I've always paid attention to everything around you. The sweet and sexy, sort-of-dorky boy who was in love with a girl who didn't love him back. I memorized the way your eyes close when you drink good coffee, and I loved cooking with your mom and hearing you and your stepdad cheering at some stupid sport on TV. I thought"—she pauses and looks around the room before zeroing back in on me—"well, I had half a thought that you were paying attention, too, but you weren't. I was nothing but a distraction from Dakota, who is a freaking bitch,"

"She's not a bitch," my idiot mouth says.

Nora's eyes widen. "All of that ..." Her eyes close and open slowly.

"I say all of that, and all you can do is defend Dakota? You don't even know her like you think you do. She's been spreading her legs for every guy who even smiles at her since she moved here, and you're so obsessed with her that you don't even try to see how awful she is."

Her words hit me and my heart drops. Too many thoughts are going through my head to process anything that's been said in the last five minutes.

"She . . . she wouldn't do that," I mumble.

Nora sighs, her anger seems to diffuse with every passing second. I watch as she walks to the door and pushes her feet into her sneakers. She doesn't speak to me and I can't find words for her.

    I stand in the middle of my living room and watch her walk out of my apartment. If this were a movie, I would run after her and explain myself. I would be brave and find words to ease her pain and frustration.

But life isn't a movie, and I'm not brave.

Nothing Less- Anna Todd