The Life and Death of a Heartbreaker--Chapter 15: Shades of Grey (Revised)

Shades of Grey


A few days had passed, and Noah had spent all of them at my house; and although I wasn’t bothered by his constant presence, I knew that every minute I was spending with Noah was hurting Jack. So I decided to encourage Noah to try to go home and talk to his mom, to see if he could make things better with her. To my shock and surprise, he agreed to, and the moment he left the house, I called Jack and told him I was coming over, anticipating a very passionate make-out session to make up for the time we’d had to spend apart. But unfortunately, he had something else on his mind.


“So, did Noah spend the night last night?” he asked me at the first available moment, trying too hard to feign disinterest in the subject.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to make it sound like it was no big deal.

“Oh…that’s interesting.” Pause. “What did you guys do?”

“We just watched a movie and fell asleep,” I said, honestly.

“Where did he sleep?”

“Jack, do you have any idea how ridiculous you're being right now?”

“What is so ridiculous about a boyfriend wanting to know about his girlfriend’s little co-ed sleepovers that he is, incidentally, not invited to? Huh?” He was getting very defensive; it was frustrating. I wanted so badly for him to believe me, but at the same time, I kept asking myself why he should because I didn’t even know if what I was saying and implying was entirely true.

“Seriously, Jack. Calm down. He’s my best friend, so I have to be there for him, okay? He’s going through some really hard stuff right now. He needs me--but only as a best friend. You have nothing to worry about.” I tried to hold his gaze, but I couldn’t help but look away before my last sentence.

“Well, I need you too, Lilah. We’ve hardly gotten to spend any time together these last two weeks. You’ve been spending it all with him. I understand that you want to be there for him, but I mean, come on. I want to be one of your priorities, too.”

I couldn’t even look at him. I was completely irritated, and I’d begun to realize that this whole conversation was making me less attracted to him. That happened to me sometimes; well, a lot actually. It didn’t take much to completely turn me off to a guy. It could be something completely stupid, like his ordering a funny sounding meal at a restaurant, or it could be as simple as a conversation that made me realize the extent of his pride and jealousy--and possessiveness. I think it just reminded me that he was just like everybody else, no matter how much I tried not to believe it, and no matter how much I’d denied it to myself in the past. That’s one thing about love. Half of the romance is creating this ideal person and trying to see only that perfection, but we’re all just human; and that fact is what shatters our perspective, takes away our innocence and our naivety. And it made life at that moment a whole lot more depressing.

I just wanted the conversation to be over. “You are one of my priorities,” I said, trying to appease him.

“Then will you promise to make more time for me?” he asked, feigning sweetness. I almost wanted to gag.

“Yes…I will,” I said, not knowing if I was lying.

“Ok, good,” he said, as he reached out to touch me for the first time since I'd gotten there. “Tell me one more thing though.”

“Sure. What is it?”

“Are you sure I don’t have anything to worry about?”

A battle immediately began raging inside of me: 'Uh oh. What do I say? How can I possibly give him an answer to that when I don’t even know for sure? Do I lie and end this whole conversation? Or do I tell the truth and have an even bigger blow-out than the one we just had? Jeez, why does lying always sound so good?'

“Yes, Jack. I’m sure. You have nothing to worry about.” A smile lit up his face, and he kissed me. I kissed him back, but it felt more forced than natural. I just wanted to get out of there. “I have to go,” I lied again. “I told my mom I’d be home to help her cook dinner tonight.”

“Ok,” he said, and we kissed once more before he walked me out to my car.


“Ok, what the hell just happened in there?” I thought to myself as I followed the winding roads back to my house. My insides swarmed with basic emotions--annoyance, anger, frustration--and yet it felt as if they were all brand new because although I’d felt them each a million times over, I’d never felt them for him. I tried replaying the conversation over and over in my mind, searching frantically for a moment where I might have overreacted, but I couldn’t find any--not even one. And so I sat there in my car, stunned and shaking from what had just transpired, and I found that all I wanted to do was lay down with Noah, put on a movie, and just forget about everything. But that thought simply opened the door to hundreds of others that all were laced with the same underlying implication: “Maybe this really is destiny; maybe with Noah is where I belong.” And I found that in those last two weeks, I’d been thinking that thought more than ever…


“Noah, it’s your turn to put on the movie,” I whispered to him as we laid next to each other on my bed, me next to the wall, him on the edge.

He groaned with sleepiness. “I don’t wanna get up.”

“You’re closest to the tv! Just do it, pleeeeaaassseee,” I said as I grabbed his stomach and started to tickle him.

He flailed his limbs like a madman as he screamed, “Noo!”…laugh…"Stop it!”…laugh…"Please!!!”

I stopped, mostly because I felt bad for using his weakness against him like that. (Noah was ticklish alllllll over. I always said that’s what made us such good friends because I wasn’t ticklish at all. It was like we complimented each other.) “Will you do it now?” I asked him.

“Hmmmm…,” he thought out loud. “Nope.”

I would have tickled him again, but I was completely out of energy, so I just let out a sigh and laid back dramatically onto the bed. I was facing the ceiling, looking at the glow-in-the-dark stars I had hanging up there while he laid on his side, facing away from me.

I was just staring, my thoughts wandering off to stars and space, when Noah broke the silence with his hyena-esque laugh. “I bet you thought you were real funny tickling me, but look what I found,” he said in a sing-songy voice as he held up my journal. My eyes got as wide as watermelons at the thought of him reading anything out of that journal because, of course, most of it was about him; but a lot of it was about Jack, too. I was screaming inside as, in one fluid motion, I whipped my hand up and snatched the journal from him. He looked at me, amazed at my speed.

“Like a panther!” I exclaimed, congratulating myself on that wonderful save.

Noah and I started cracking up, and I went to playfully hit him in the stomach with my journal, but I hadn’t noticed that he’d crouched himself into a ball so I kind of, well, missed. I didn’t think that I had hit him that hard, so I continued to laugh as he put his hands over his face. “I’m sorry,” I managed to squeak out as my side began throbbing with laughter. That was when Noah pulled his hands away from his face and turned completely pale when he saw the blood staining his fingers. He looked up at me with a look that said, “why would you do that?” and I saw the small stream of blood running down from his nose.

“Oh my god!!!” I yelled. “You’re bleeding!”

“No shit, Sherlock,” he said to me, but in more of a sarcastic way than a mad way. He was still kind of laughing about it, but I felt completely awful.

“Fuck! I gave you a bloody nose! I am sooooo sorry, Noah, really.” I said, getting semi-serious and running to get him my box of Kleenex.

“It’s okay, just help me! What should I do? I’ve never gotten a bloody nose before.”

“Umm…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?? You went through our entire sophomore year saying you wanted to be a doctor, and you don’t know?!” He was starting to panic a little bit.

“Well, I’ve never gotten one either. Let’s go to the bathroom and try to clean you up.” We snuck out of my room because I really didn’t want my mom to know that I'd given him a bloody nose. I guess I thought I'd get in trouble. When we got in there, I locked the door and started shoving tissues up his nose and dampening some to get the excess blood off of his face.

After frantically wiping and shoving, we just looked at each other, turned to the mirror, and began laughing hysterically; we didn’t stop for at least three whole minutes. The whole situation was just so absurd. Noah kept saying between laughs, “I can’t believe this,” as the tissue stuck in his nose turned from white to crimson red.

When we finally gained composure, I noticed that his nose hadn’t stopped bleeding yet, so I said, “Ok, take the tissues out and just lean your head back. I think that’s what you’re supposed to do. I remember hearing that somewhere.” I found out later that that is the exact opposite of what you are supposed to do because, as Noah so poignantly described to me, “I can feel the blood sliding down my throat!”

I offered to help him take the Kleenex out of his nose and help to wipe the blood away, but he turned away from me and simply said, “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

I couldn’t tell if my heart leapt or sunk at that moment. I guess it was because I didn’t know what he meant by it. I mean, I know for a fact that I’ve seen him in much worse condition--like when he got a really, really bad case of the flu junior year, and I brought him a care package of Razzles and Lipton soup, our two favorite foods, and he threw up right there in front of my feet at the sight of it. (Looking back, I realize that I probably should have thought that one out a little more.) I didn’t understand why he was being so self-conscious. All I knew was that the only time I’d ever been self-conscious was around a crush, so maybe…just maybe…

I turned away and pondered this as he cleaned himself up and I repeated “I’m sorry” over and over again until we got back into my room. I forced him to sleep with the Kleenex box next to him all night just incase and insisted on having random “nose checks” where I would yell “Nose check!” and he would turn toward me so I could see up his nose and make sure he wasn’t bleeding. I know it probably sounds strange, but that night just made me feel completely alive. I felt connected to Noah in a way that wasn’t the “dynamic duo” way we’ve always been connected. It was like something had shifted, and once again, the thought of him made me smile.

Right before we fell asleep, I whispered “I’m sorry,” into his ear, and he inched himself closer to me, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips against my forehead. It was so comforting in a protective way and yet intimate at the same time. We fell asleep facing each other, not touching. We didn’t need to be. And when I woke up the next morning, his arm was resting across my back, and I couldn’t have felt more content.