She was carrying my scrapbook. My Felix Morrison scrapbook that I’d kept throughout middle school and half of high school.

This. Was. Not. Happening.

“I’ve been packing up Juliet’s room, and I found this. She spent so much time on this scrapbook. I threatened to take it away from her more than once if she didn’t do better in school and spend less time looking up things to print out.” She was so joyful. She thought she was helping. Doing a good thing.

Not ruining my entire world.

“What’s this?” Noah asked when she placed it in front of me, reaching out to touch it. I wanted to scream, to tell him not to look, to grab it and run away so that he’d never see it. But it was like being trapped in a real-life nightmare. I was paralyzed in place, unable to move, unable to blink, unable to do anything besides just sit there and watch.

Even if I had been able to act, it was already too late. He opened it and I saw the microseconds when his expression changed—from curiosity to confusion to understanding.

His whole visage darkened. His betrayal and pain were etched into his face. “What is this, Juliet?” he demanded.

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY

My mother might not have known exactly what was happening, but she had the good sense to excuse herself, leaving us alone.

“Noah, let me explain—”

“What is this?” he repeated, his teeth clenched together. I’d seen him angry before, but never at me. I didn’t know how to take it.

Even if it was well deserved. “It’s a scrapbook I kept when I was younger.”

“Of me. Of Felix Morrison.” He said the name with disgust. “You told me you didn’t know who I was. The first night we met, you said you’d never heard of me.”

I reached for his hand and tried not to flinch when he jerked it away, out of reach. I had to explain this. To make him see. “I know I did, but I thought you were being arrogant that night. Now I know it was just to protect yourself from what you thought was a crazy stalker fan, but I was so annoyed that I just wanted to knock you down a few pegs. Which I shouldn’t have done and maybe I should have confessed earlier, but what would have happened? You would have walked away from me and never looked back. And I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You used me. You lied to me and then had me help you learn how to kiss.” I wished he would yell instead of utilizing this deadly calm voice he was using and his blank face. “Did you fake your phobia, too? Were you trying to trick me into being with you? Was this some scheme? Was the whole thing a lie?”