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“I didn’t realize it bothered you,” I say, feeling a knot form in my stomach. “I’m sorry.”
What plans did I make?
“That’s the problem, Aria. You never realize anything until it’s too late.” His words are sharp, cutting through the warmth of the afternoon.
I feel hurt, a familiar ache settling in my chest. I try to brush it off, but a voice in the back of my mind whispers that this isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last.. “I’ll do better,” I promise, hoping to diffuse the tension. “Could you tell me what plans are an issue?” How am I supposed to be more considerate if he won’t tell me exactly what bothers him?
He sighs, rubbing his temples. “It’s not just that. Sometimes, it feels like you don’t even care about what I want, like when you insisted on going out with your friends last weekend instead of staying home with me.”
That’s what he’s hung up on?
My heart sinks. “Noah, I invited you to come with us. You said you didn’t want to.”
“That’s not the point,” he snaps, sitting up and glaring at me. “The point is, you should have stayed with me. I needed you, and you chose them.”
“I didn’t know you felt that way,” I say, my voice trembling. “You should have told me.”
“I shouldn’t have to tell you,” he replies, his tone harsh. “You should just know.”
I keep quiet, because anything I say will just make his mood worse. “I’m sorry, Noah.” I paste on a fake smile and lean over him to press a kiss to his lips.
He barely kisses me back, so I pull away, only to find him lying back down, his eyes closed.
I guess the conversation is over. Great. Another thrilling episode of Noah Knows Best.
Annoyed, I lie down, watching the clouds lazily stretch across the sky.
The sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting an orange hue across the sky. We finish the last of the wine, and Noah stretches out on the blanket, sighing contentedly. I feel a warm glow from the perfect day we had, or maybe that’s just the wine buzzing through my system, because his words aren’t perfect.
He’s here, though, and he packed this amazing picnic. Isn’t it always said that guys are supposed to show their love through actions?
A storm cloud passes over Noah’s features, his earlier warmth evaporating in an instant. “Why do you always have to dress like that?” he asks, his tone accusatory.
I blink, taken aback. “Like what?”
“Like you’re trying to get attention,” he says, his eyes narrowing. “It’s embarrassing.”
I look down at my dress, a simple sundress that I thought was perfect for the occasion. “I thought you liked this dress,” I say, my voice small.
“I did,” he replies, his words dripping with disdain, “until I realized you wear it just to show off.”
“I’m not showing off,” I protest, feeling a wave of confusion and hurt. “I wore it because I thought you liked it.”
“Well, you thought wrong,” he snaps, pushing his plate away. His eyes dart around, as if searching for someone watching us. “You never think about how your actions make me feel. You know how people think about us, about me. I can’t have you drawing attention like this.”
The words hang in the air, each one feeling like a physical blow. The joy and warmth of the afternoon have vanished, replaced by a cold, heavy silence.
“Let’s go.” He abruptly stands, sand flying everywhere. “This day is ruined.”
Feeling a pit in my stomach, I slowly help pack everything in silence, hyperaware of his actions as he angrily shakes out the blanket upwind so it flutters all over me.
That’s fine. I’m a beach bum by nature, and a little sand doesn’t bother me.
Gritting my teeth, I hold the basket and step on the path as Noah sneers at everyone who passes us. The silence is heavy, thick, and suffocating as we walk to the car parked on the street. The crunch of sand under our feet seems deafening, each step a countdown to an explosion I can feel building.
In the car, I stare out the window, tears stinging my eyes. How have things gone so wrong so quickly? The Noah who was so loving and attentive just hours ago is now a stranger, his words echoing in my mind like a dark chant.
“You don’t care about me.”
