Bittersweet // Complete

17

OH MY FUCKING GOD WE REACHED 1K READS LAST NIGHT
I am truly grateful for each and every one of you who has read my story so far, and your votes/comments/PMs never cease to make my day 🥺♥️

So kind of as a celebration, here's the next update, as a treat for you 😏

Chapter 17

My alarm woke me up at 6.15am. I had to get to college around 7.30, so I could help Professor Malik with something in the Botany wing. It would be an excellent chance to ask some of my burning questions about the plant physiology I had been curious about, so I pushed through my fatigue, parking my bike in the campus parking lot area around 7.40.

I hoped the Professor wasn't mad at me. Last I had checked in with him, only one other student had joined to help him. I rushed to the Botany wing nevertheless, knocking at the doors for greenhouse 4. When no one answered, I pushed the door anyway and walked in, finding the place eerily silent. Well then. I dropped my bag and coat on the bench, taking a chance to look around the greenery potted there. I recognised a few plants by their leaves, the easier ones to spot. There were no flowering plants on the right side, or at least none had flowers at this time. The left, however, was in full bloom. Pink peonies littered the rows upon rows of potted plants, all leading me to... fuck.

I gasped audibly, seeing him there, and Noah's face shot up, meeting my widened eyes. He had airpods on, that he removed and tucked in his pockets, before walking towards me.

"Hi," I squeaked, "You're here to help Professor Malik?"

I took a moment to take him in. Unlike me, Noah looked carefree, casual. I needed to stop worrying my lip and eating at the skin. He had no signs of restlessness on his face, while I was shivering in anticipation.

"I'm sorry, what's your name?" Noah narrowed his eyes at me.

Jesus, he was really, really mad at me.

"You know me, Noah." I sighed, running my hand through my hair and tying it in a bun. He didn't say anything, but looked away, staring at the ceiling. The sun was filtering through slowly, and his skin, cream and beautiful as it was, looked ethereal in the glow of the light.

"Look, I'm sorry," I pleaded, "I can explain..."

Fuck, this is hard.

"No, you can't explain, Brianna." Noah sat down, leaning against the shelves holding the supplies needed to tend to the place.

"Yes I can't," I conceded, sitting in front of him, "I can only tell you that I'm just trying to do the right thing."

Noah scoffed, still not looking at me, "The right thing? You look like shit and I am feeling very much like shit, so tell me, Brianna. The right thing for whom?"

My heart pinched.

This was too difficult, and I would probably have a stroke before I could make a decision. At the same time, I hated seeing Noah like this, jaw taut with anger, shoulders squared as if he was defending himself from the way I was hurting him. If in a battle, I wanted Noah and me to be on the same side, not on opposing ends. 

An uncomfortable silence fell on us. My eyes stayed on him, watching the smallest rise and fall of his chest, the-

"What happened to your hands?" Unthinkingly, I reached out to grab his hands and take a better look at the scabs on his knuckles. They looked fresh, barely a day or two old. Before I could have a good look, Noah shook me off, tucking his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.