Nothing Less

Chapter Ten

WHILE I MAKE MY WAY back to my apartment, I can still feel Nora’s lips on mine and I can still smell the coconut scent of her hair. She’s so confusing, so frustrating and addictive. While I’m in the elevator, I briefly consider turning around and heading to the subway. I could find my way to Scarsdale, now that I’ve been there.

Would she be upset if I did?

Yes, I’m positive that she would be.

My apartment is empty when I get there. I know Tessa’s at work, but I assumed at least Hardin would be here. Still, I’m sort of glad that I can have some time alone to think about Nora and who she is, what she’s hiding.

Would our meal today be considered a date? I paid for it; she fed me. Nora literally fed me, and the memory of it is still scorching through me. I need a distraction. If I sit here thinking about Nora feeding me, Nora kissing me, I’ll go insane.

I walk into the kitchen and grab a Gatorade and sit down on my couch. Hardin’s binder is smack-dab in the middle of the table. As I move it over, a few pages fall out. I grab one and don’t even bother trying to decipher his scratchy handwriting. What is all this? My curiosity gets the best of me, and I find myself flipping through the pages. It looks like some sort of diary that I should most definitely not be snooping through.

From that day on, his words bled from his veins. It was unstoppable, no matter how much pressure he applied to the wound. The words bled from him, staining page after page with his memories of her.

I put the page down and shove it back into the binder. I don’t know what this is, but I’m positive Hardin wants to keep it that way.

•  •  •

I’ve been watching episodes of Arrested Development on Netflix and staring at the clock on the TV since I got here.

My apartment is quiet. No matter how many random thoughts I try to focus on, time barely moves. Time is one of those inevitable forces that humans can’t control. One of the few things, actually. As humans, we are obsessed with time and the idea of manipulating it. Some of the most incredible stories focus on the idea of time. Usually the idea is that if someone had a time machine, they could change their past and their future. They could become rich and famous or even rule the world. Right now, if I had a time machine, I wouldn’t go all crazy and try to change my entire life, or the world. I would simply fast-forward a few hours so I could see Nora.

Well, if she still plans on coming, that is.

Jason Bateman is on my screen trying to keep his dysfunctional family together, and I’m trying to keep my mind off Nora. She was more open today than usual. She told me about her family trips to Europe and her sister, Stausey. It’s weird to think about her family in Europe, sunbathing and eating strange foods and drinking tiny black coffees while I was running around my plat, hanging out with Carter and Dakota, eating Mikesell’s potato chips and drinking water from our faucet. Sometimes I would get a Mountain Dew, and it was a treat. Her reality was light-years from mine.

A tapping at my door has me on my feet in seconds. When the door opens, beautiful Nora is there, grocery bags in both hands. Since she left me outside Juliette, she’s changed into a black T-shirt and wiped some of her makeup off. Her shirt is so long that I can’t tell whether she’s wearing shorts . . . not that that it would be a problem if she wasn’t.

Her hair is braided now, and draped over her shoulder. She’s wearing black sandals, with two straps covering the span of her feet. The buckle reminds me of a Pilgrim’s belt.

My words come before I can stop them: “You are so beautiful.”

I don’t mind, and she doesn’t seem to, either. Her eyes fall to the floor, and she smiles. For the first time since I’ve met her, her smile is unguarded. It’s completely natural, like walking or speaking, and it’s beautiful and I love her.