Tonight might have changed that, and I only have myself to blame.
Like someone teeing up the perfect joke, I delivered myself to Noah on a silver platter. He couldn’t resist taking things as far as he did. I behaved poorly, and he one-upped me. This…this was the worst thing he’s ever done.
There have been a few times in my life when I’ve felt soul-crushingly sad or lonely. When I didn’t get invited to Lauren Valentine’s birthday party in the fifth grade, which included a limo ride to a Jonas Brothers concert and produced a bevy of inside jokes I was forced to endure for the next year of my life. Sorry, Audrey. You had to be there. When I didn’t get into my top-choice college that all my friends were going to, I thought it was the end of the world. When I didn’t land that job at a publishing house in my early twenties, I thought I was a loser and a failure, especially when I had to move back in with my parents for a few months (okay, a year) because I couldn’t make rent in the city. When I walk through the streets of Rome tonight and pass a couple sitting on a stoop, sharing a bottle of wine and leaning into each other, laughing, silly, in love, it hurts to look at them. It hurts to realize how far I am from being part of something like that.
Tonight, I was kissed, and it was real-life fairytale magic. Pixie dust included.
Then, I realized it was actually nothing. A farce.
A harsh reminder of how lonely and alone I am.
Back at St. Cecilia’s, I stand in the hallway outside Noah’s door with my hand clenched in a fist. Knocking would be so easy. Taking us back to baseline would take no effort at all.
Hey, let’s forget about the bar. In the morning, you can tease me and I’ll act annoyed and everything will be right in the world. How ’bout it?
But my fist won’t move.
I can’t do it.
My feelings were really hurt tonight.
Noah kissing me like that, making me feel like he could…maybe…it doesn’t matter. It took our antics to a level we’ve never ventured to before. It was cruel, and I can’t yet forgive him for it. Maybe also, deep down, I’m not ready to forgive myself either.
I let my hand fall back limp by my side and turn for my room, closing my door softly behind me. I strip out of my dress and put on the comfiest clothes I can find. I consider texting Kristen and Melissa about everything, but I know they’d have no patience for me. At this point, they’ve heard me complain about Noah far too much.
You provoked a snake, and the snake bit you.
It’s not even been a full week here in Rome and everything has gone to shit.
I knew something like this would happen if Noah and I co-chaperoned this trip. We can’t be left alone. We’re like two children who need constant minding. Put us in a room together and you’ll return to find the place on fire.
It seems like for once, there’s no clear path forward.
I suppose I could bail on this whole thing, call Principal O’Malley, tell him I can’t do it after all and I need to come home. But where would that leave the students and Noah? I can’t just up and abandon them. Today was rough at the Roman Forum, but I know the kids are having such a good time here. There’s also the issue of the bonus money, which isn’t all that important, but it’s something. One more reason to stay.
I’m being a coward, really. I’m only thinking about leaving because I don’t want to face Noah in the morning. I wish I could slink away into the night, but I can’t just up and flee back to the States, holing myself away on a cargo ship. I have more than two weeks left here in Rome and I need to make the most of them. I’m in Europe! Surrounded by culture and good food and fine wine! Weird situation with Noah and failing love match with Lorenzo aside, I’ve enjoyed my time exploring the city on my own, and I feel like I have so much left to see and do here. That’s where I need to focus my attention.
Noah doesn’t matter, I tell myself, like I’m practicing a new mantra. He shouldn’t have this much control over my mood and emotions. He’s my coworker. The teacher next door. A person I see at staff meetings and in the lunchroom and that’s it.
I go to sleep repeating all of that, feeling hopeful that it’ll stick.
I really think I’ve cured myself of this sickness, and then I walk into the dining hall the next morning and there’s Noah, sitting at a table by himself, nursing a coffee, looking like shit.
There’re faint circles under his eyes and his mouth is a flat line. His thick brows look like they’ve accidentally become stuck in that furrowed position permanently. He hasn’t seen me yet. His attention is down on his cup as he brushes his thumb up and down the length of it. It looks like he hasn’t slept a wink. I wonder if that’s his first cup of coffee or his third?
Complicated feelings tug me in opposite directions. I feel bad that I might have inadvertently hurt Noah somehow. I should not have teased him like that. Maybe he feels bad that he took things as far as he did. Strange as it may seem, I do think he’s capable of feeling remorse. I guess we’re both dogs with our tails between our legs this morning.
For a moment, I consider going over to him, saying all the things I would have said had I had the courage to knock on his door last night, but then I think of my new mantra. The only way forward, the only way to get out of this crazy loop with Noah is to break the cycle. I cannot keep doing this with him, pretending that poking him and teasing him and focusing my full attention on him will get me anywhere. If I’m not careful, my love-to-hate relationship with him will suck me dry, and where will that leave me a month from now? A year? Two years? Right where I am in this moment. Alone.