The Bookworm

Chapter 6 (edited)

Amara

I wasn't sure what he thought he was doing in my house, but like hell, I was going to put up with it.

Today, after yesterday's events, I was still trying to process what had happened. I had woken up from 5 am, twisting and turning in my bed, until I gave up on falling asleep again. Around 8, I decided to go downstairs and have some breakfast, but I felt disoriented, and my stomach felt weird around food. So, enjoying food was off the table, too, as was having a normal conversation with my parents as I usually did on the weekends. It was the only time we had to catch up. All of us were busy with work and school-related stuff. We had stopped having dinner on weekdays. My father and I usually eat alone while watching TV together.

So, the atmosphere between us was tense. We didn't talk, there was only an awkward silence. I could tell the situation wasn't forgotten, and I wasn't forgiven. So, I gave up and went to my room. I grabbed a novel that I had recently purchased, and I started reading when I heard a knock.

I wasn't in the mood to see anyone, but when I heard a man's voice alongside the name Noah, I was dumbfounded.

Noah, who?

For a second, I started questioning my sanity. He couldn't be here, I must've misheard because whether I liked it or not, he was in the back of my head all the time lately. But when I heard that name again, the decision made itself for me. The book in my hands was forgotten as I went downstairs to check who that was before I lost my mind. I was sure he wouldn't be there, even though we had visitors, it couldn't be him. It couldn't be. My hopeful thinking, though, crashed and burned when I saw him.

His back was turned to me. He was casually sitting on the couch in my parents' living room, having a conversation. I just stood there frozen.

What was he doing? Talking to my parents?

I was confused, I wasn't sure what I was seeing, or better yet, why. What was he saying to my parents? I was pretty sure it had something to do with what happened.

Was he blaming me? Was he saying I attacked him?

Then, all of the sudden, he turned to face me as if he knew exactly where I was standing, and his dark, lethal eyes locked on mine, just like when a wild animal buries his teeth in your neck and its jaw locks until it makes sure there's no pulse left in you. Like a deer before it gets consumed by a lion. Only, I wasn't a deer, he wasn't a lion, and this was partly my house. If he wanted to see my parents, then fine, I couldn't stop them from accepting him into their home, but I wasn't going to welcome him. I wasn't going to talk to him or even acknowledge him. I was angry, furious. He was unwanted, and I didn't care to hide the sentiment. He never did, why should I?

I didn't care what my parents wanted. I didn't care if I embarrassed them, I didn't care at all to be reasonable. I didn't want to see him; I had the right not to.

I knew I would have to explain a lot to my mother once he was gone, and maybe I would be in even more trouble than I was before, but I didn't mind. Saying no to Noah Wilson, even if it came with a price, felt good. There was nothing in the world he could say that interested me, and there was nothing in the world that could make me pretend otherwise.

Enough was enough.

When I heard a knock on the other side of the door, I suspected it was my mother. I didn't want to see anyone, but I knew she wanted answers. Fine, then, I would give her an answer. Right about then, I would have spilled everything. I was angry, and I didn't know if thinking before speaking was an ability I possessed.