Presently Perfect (Perfect #3) (38 page)

“No! She’s pushed me away since Christmas and I don’t understand why. I made her a promise that we’d get through this together. Please, Emily,” I pleaded.

“I’ll go ask her, but if she doesn’t want to see you…”

“Then I’ll go.”

I lied.

I followed Emily down the hallway to the bathroom. She glanced back at me before softly knocking on the door.

“Manda, are you okay? Can I come in?”

Tweet’s weak muffled voice answered, “Yes.”

As Emily opened the door, I craned my neck, wanting to get a glimpse of Tweet, but it closed before I was able. I stayed on the other side of the hall, not wanting to eavesdrop. That lasted all of five seconds. I crossed to the bathroom, pressing my ear to the door.

“Noah’s here and he wants to see you,” Emily said.

“Emily…”

“I told him you were sick, but… Manda, if you could see the look on his face. It broke my heart. He looks so sad and lost. He wants to be here for you.”

“He doesn’t need to spend his life taking care of me.”

“But I think he wants to.”

“I want to go back to bed now.”

I heard some movement and then a loud thud, followed by the sound of Tweet crying. I burst through the door to find her lying on the floor sobbing uncontrollably, Emily wiping her forehead with a wet rag. Tweet’s new prosthetic leg laid still attached to her, but off to the side, twisted.

I scooped her up into my arms.
She was limp and couldn’t stop crying as I carried her to the bedroom.

Pressing my lips to her temple, I whispered, “I’ve got you, Tweet. I’ll take care of you.”

Emily followed and stood in the doorway of Tweet’s room with tears running down her face. I gently placed Tweet on the bed and sat in front of her. My hands automatically touched her face, wiping the tears away with my thumbs.

Her eyes barely stayed open, due to the tears gushing from them, as she choked out, “I’m so ashamed.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t do anything for myself anymore. Every part of my body feels sick. I just want to die.” Drawing in a shaky breath, she pleaded, “Noah, tell them to let me go.”

Her sobs intensified so much, she had a hard time catching her breath. I heard Emily crying louder.

My heart shattered seeing her this broken. There were no words to make her feel better in that moment. I couldn’t protect her from the fucking cancer. And she was pushing me away, not letting me love her.

Please let me love you, Tweet.

Shifting, I positioned myself behind Tweet. My arms snaked around her waist, her back securely pressed against my chest. Burying my face in the crook of her neck, I let my own tears flow.

My lips grazed the shell of her ear as I whispered, “I can’t do that. I need you too much. Don’t you dare leave me.”

We finally lay back and on our side, but never lost contact. When I woke up the next morning, we were still tangled together.

Access to Tweet continued to be limited by her choice. I hated it but understood. Certain weeks of chemo hit her harder than others and she spent most of her time being sick or sleeping. I wanted to be by her side, but she insisted I wait to come over until she felt better. I continued to give her whatever she needed, so I didn’t force the issue. It was hard staying away. I texted and called several times a day, checking in on her. I also dropped by a few times a week. Occasionally, I got to see her, but most of my visits consisted of getting updates from Emily.

The rest of my life was spent in class or at the library studying. Brooke and I were slowly disintegrating. Each time I approached the subject of taking a break, she’d interrupt, saying how happy and in love she was with me. By the time she finished her monologue, I felt too guilty to make the break. I never gave Brooke or our relationship a chance. I tried forcing myself, falling short each time. I cared about her and it wasn’t her fault that things between us weren’t progressing. My head had been telling me for years to move on from Tweet, but my heart never gave up on us.

Brooke and I were meeting after class for lunch at the Hungry Lion diner, across the street from the main campus at College of Charleston. It was a small dive that had the best burgers in the area. The place was packed with wall-to-wall bodies. Once we squeezed our way inside, my gaze found her immediately. I blinked a couple of times in case my eyes were playing tricks. She’d been keeping me at arm’s length for the past few weeks, using the excuse of being tired and not feeling well. But the picture in front of me was of a smiling and laughing Tweet, at a table with her old roommate, Lisa, and some guy, having a good old time.

Feeling tired and bad, my ass.

The
some
guy sat next to Tweet, his arm draped across the back of her chair with his hand cupped over her shoulder. Every so often, he’d lean in really close as if he were about to kiss her.

Groping Smurffucker.

“Noah!” Brooke’s voice pierced through my pissed-off and confused haze.

“What?!”

“I said I’ll go put our name down for a table.”

“Fine.”

As she walked away, I marched over to the three laughing hyenas.

“Tweet?”

She looked great. Happy.

Nervously, she shifted in the seat, moving away from the guy who was snatching a French fry from her plate.

Looking up, jaw slack, she stammered. “No… ah. Hey.”

My gaze bounced from her eyes to the guy’s hand that was still touching her shoulder.

My shoulder.

“Noah, you remember Lisa?”

“Yeah. Hey. How are you?”

Leaning forward, with her elbows on the table, chin resting in her hands, a huge smile crossed Lisa’s face. “Hello,
The
Noah. I’m good.”

I nodded.

“And this is Dalton.” Tweet introduced us.

“Hey.” I extended my hand, he looked puzzled for a split second before shaking it.

Douchebag.

“You and Lisa are together?” I pried.

“No, actually…” He shifted his arm from the chair to Tweet’s upper back, pulling her closer into his side. “…my young Grasshopper and I hook up every Monday.”

The corners of his mouth curled up into a lopsided smirk, aimed directly at me.

Grasshopper? He had a nickname for her?

My temperature quickly rose along with the tension in my muscles. If he didn’t remove that arm from around Tweet soon, I was going to twist the fucking thing off followed by a punch to that smug smirk plastered across his face.

Tilting his chair back, chest all puffed out, he glanced at Tweet and continued. “Yep, we’ve been at it for about two months, right?” His gaze swung to meet mine. “Our time together wears me completely out.”

“He’s talking about chemo. We have chemo together on Mondays. Dalton, tell him it’s chemo,” Tweet blurted out.

Dalton scrunched up his face. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

A snort of laughter came from where Lisa sat. I continued to stare down at the pair, waiting for some clarification on what the asshole was referring to and for him to stop touching my girl.

“I’m just messing with you, dude. We have chemo together. That’s all. Unless you consider the blow jobs in the supply closet a relationship.”

My gaze shot to a set of panicked teal eyes. “Tweet, I need to talk to you for a minute. Outside.”

The sound of my name being called flew across the room as Brooke walked up.

“Our table is ready,” she said.

“I’ll be right there.”

Brooke didn’t acknowledge anyone else at the table except Tweet. “Hey Amanda, how’s the leg?”

“Still missing,” Tweet said sarcastically.

Clutching my bicep, Brooke tugged. “Come on before somebody steals our table.”

“Go sit down. I’ll be there in a minute.” My eyes stayed focused on Tweet.

Brooke dug her nails into my arm and huffed, before stomping off.

“Tweet. Outside.” I walked away without looking back to see if she was following me.

I barreled through the door of the diner onto the sidewalk, pacing until Tweet came out. My hands raked through my hair several times in frustration, confusion, and pure old-fashion jealousy. For weeks I was only allowed to see her for a few brief moments because she wasn’t feeling well. And here she was, out, looking amazing, and having fun with some other guy.

Stewart you are hands down the biggest idiotic pussy around.

The second Tweet walked out of the diner I grabbed her upper arm, leading her to the side of the building away from the crowd.

“Who is that asshole?” I snapped.

She shrugged out of my grip. “He’s not an asshole. He was just joking around. He does that.”

“He likes joking around about fucking you? Is he?” My voice was harsh and angry.

“Is he what?”

Getting in her face, I snarled, “Fucking you?”

“Where the hell is this coming from? Dalton and I are friends, that’s all. He was joking. What’s wrong with you?”

I leaned away. “I don’t like guys talking about you like that. I don’t like him.”

“Well, I do like him. He’s helping me get through all the shit I’m dealing with right now. I need him.”

I stumbled back slightly. Her words were like a punch in the gut.

“You used to need me,” I said with a shaky voice.

“Noah, I’ll always need you. It’s just… Dalton understands exactly what I’m going through.”

The look in her eyes when she talked about him caused my heart to stop. She had a connection with him that went deeper than the illness they shared.

Glancing away, she mumbled under her breath, “This is ridiculous.”

“I don’t like how touchy feely he is with you.”

“I’ve watched Brooke climb all over you for months. Not to mention how much she enjoys pointing out the fact that I have a limb chopped off, making me damaged goods.”

“This isn’t about Brooke. This is about you and me.”

“You’re right. This is about you and me. You have Brooke and now I have someone in my life to take…”

“My place?”

“No. No one will ever take your place. How come you can have someone and I can’t?”

I leaned in so close our noses were touching. “Let me remind you, sweetheart. I never wanted someone else. That was your call.”

I pushed past her and headed back inside. Marching over to where Brooke was sitting, I slid into the booth. As I scanned the menu I caught Tweet heading back to her table. Lisa and Dalton stood, the three exchanged a few words, before the girls left.

Dalton turned to the table beside theirs where four pretty girls sat. He made some comment that caused the table to erupt in laughter, and then swaggered toward the counter to pay.

Cocky bastard.

After a few seconds, the cashier tilted her head to the side, giggling at whatever the little prick said to her. My blood boiled over. It was obvious he and Tweet had a connection and here he was flirting with any pair of boobs that entered into his field of vision. I hated that he was in Tweet’s life, but I wasn’t going to stand by and let him hurt her.

Before my brain had a chance to think, my body propelled itself up and out of the booth.

“Noah…
blah, blah, blah
,” Brooke called out.

Just as I reached him, Dalton turned, almost slamming into me.

“Whoa! Sorry dude,” he said, holding his hands up.

“Can I talk to you outside for a minute?”

“You sure like the outdoors.”

I walked out the door.

He sauntered onto the sidewalk with the same smug smirk he had earlier.

“What are you doing with Tweet?”

With one quirked brow, he asked, “Tweet? Who the fuck is that?”

“Tweet… Grasshop… Amanda.”

“Oh, is that what you call her? Weird.”

“I didn’t ask you out here to discuss nicknames. But now that you mention it, what the fuck is Grasshopper all about?”

“A private joke.” The side of his mouth cocked up in a grin.

What was it with this guy and the fucking smirks?

“Answer my question. What are you doing with her?”

“Whatever she’ll let me do.”

I grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “Give me a fucking straight answer.”

He winced then dropped his gaze to my fistful of material.

“You’re holding on to a lot of hair there, dude.”

“I just want an honest, non-smartass answer to my question,” I said through gritted teeth.

He looked up at me. “Since getting the shit beat out of me isn’t on my bucket list I’ll answer, but you gotta unhand the follicles first.”

My hand dropped and I took a step back.

Rubbing his chest, Dalton said, “We’re hanging out.”

“Do you love her?” The words were out of my mouth before I knew it.

“In my own way.” There was sincerity mixed with sadness in his eyes. He was giving the best answer he could.

I was aware that Tweet had relationships with other guys—Brad the Smurffucker and Matt the dick. It killed me to think of her with anyone. With those guys I knew she was passing time, wanting to get over this pull we had to each other, just like I’d been doing with Brooke. But with Dalton it was different. I could tell in the brief time I saw them together that what they had was special.