RUSH (City Lights, #3)(30)

“Noah?”

He heaved a sigh and jabbed the button on his device. “Now what?”

“I just wanted to let you know that I finished your laundry and I wanted to show you how I arranged your clothes…”

He rounded on me, hazel eyes blazing. “You rearranged my clothes?”

“Just…so that your shirts match up with your pants,” I said quickly. “So that you don’t have to wonder if you’re color coordinated.”

He narrowed his eyes, thoughts working behind their seemingly vacant stare. I knew he was acutely self-conscious about looking foolish because of his blindness—he would hardly walk in my presence—and so I wasn’t surprised that he accepted this small change.

He nodded once, curtly. “Fine.”

“Do you want to check it out?”

“I’ll pass.”

It was a dismissive response, but I felt good for having made the effort. And that small sense of triumph was my undoing. I grew bold. Or maybe I was just overly optimistic.

“It’s a beautiful day out. Would you like to go for a walk?”

He turned back to his audio device. “No, I would not.”

I should have just left him alone, but I hesitated. The bedroom was dim, musty, in need of airing out. But mostly the lack of light bothered me. I know it made no difference to Noah—the brilliant sunshine was lost to him—but wouldn’t he enjoy feeling the warm rays on his skin?

“Are you sure? It really is the perfect day for it.”

I found the curtain cord and gave it a pull. The heavy material made a shrrking sound and Noah flinched. He swung his head wildly, tearing the ear buds out of his ears.

“What the f*ck…?”

It was uncanny how Noah didn’t so much as blink as a brilliant shaft of light fell across his face. He braced himself on the table, his features twisted in rage.

“This is your first day,” he snarled, incredulous. “Day One, and already you’re breaking the one f*cking rule I asked you to follow.”

I froze, my heart pounding in my throat. I swallowed it down. “I-I’m sorry, I just thought you’d like—”

“One f*cking rule. Do you remember it?”

“Yes. I—”

“Did I ask you to open the goddamn drapes?”

“No, but—”

“No, I did not. So why are you opening the drapes?” He rose to his feet, towered over me, his hazel eyes hard. His gaze swept over me, through me, trying to pin me down.

I held my ground, crossing my arms over my chest and trying to firm up my voice. “I thought you might like to feel the sunshine. It’s so dark in here and—”

He laughed, a bitter, ugly sound. “Is it? Well guess what?” He tapped his temple. “It’s really f*cking dark in here, too.”

“Look, I’m just trying to—”

“I know what you’re trying to do. There is a reason I have that rule about not doing things unless I ask. I’m not a f*cking idiot. You didn’t open those drapes for me. You did it for you. And you do not get to do things for me in order to make yourself feel better, got it? Pity, I’ve found, comes in many shapes and forms, and I know them all. So nice try, thanks but no thanks, and get the hell out.”

“You do not have to be so rude,” I retorted, my voice shaking.

Noah held up his hands. “Hey, this is how I roll, sweetheart. If you don’t like it, you can go. No one is forcing you to be here, least of all me.”

I could have quit. I almost did. Almost.

“Fine,” I snapped. I shut the curtains, plunging the room back into semi-darkness. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” he said sourly. “See that it doesn’t happen again.”

I moved quickly to the door. “Believe me, it won’t.”

Screw him, I thought, as I tore down the stairs. I didn’t do it just for pity. It is a beautiful day and he shouldn’t shut it out. But I realized that my feelings or opinions weren’t important to Noah, and if I didn’t learn that lesson real quick, I wasn’t going to last a month in this job.

But when I went back up that evening to bring him his dinner, he still hadn’t moved from the desk. The darkness in the room had thickened with the falling light, and I left him his food without a word exchanged between us. And it bothered me. All of it. The dimness, the audio books, the takeout dinners, and the fact that Noah spent so much time living—no, not living, existing—in this small world.

I don’t know why it troubled me as much as it did, why I cared so much, and that bothered me most of all.





Chapter Eleven


Charlotte

“He hates me.”

Melanie glanced up from the faux leopard-skin jacket she’d been considering. “Already? It’s only been a week.”

It was Sunday, my day off, Melanie and I had walked from her place in the Village to Lafayette Street for some shopping and lunch. We perused the choked racks at Screamin’ Mimi’s for vintage clothes, as I was hoping to liven up my wardrobe.

“I didn’t even need a week. It only took one day.”

Melanie laughed. “What did you do?”

“I opened the drapes.”

“And that’s it, huh? This guy sounds like a complete *.”