Chapter 14

12 YEARS EARLIER

 

Noah and I are studying on his common room futon together. He’s got his arm around me and a physics book balanced on his legs, while I’ve got a History of Roman Art book balanced on my knees. We’re on a rotating schedule of studying for twenty minutes, then making out for twenty minutes. It’s not the most effective means of studying.

Especially if you consider the break we took for Noah to screw my brains out about an hour ago.

Even though Noah and I have been together for two years now, the attraction I feel for him is still almost painful. I thought those feelings would fade after a while, but they haven’t. At all. At least not for me. I can’t imagine ever liking anyone as much as I like Noah.

“Hey,” Noah says, eying me over the edge of his physics book.

I raise my eyebrows at him. “Yes.”

He grins at me. “I love you, Bailey.”

My body fills with that warm, nice feeling I get whenever he says those words. “I love you too.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you more.”

He puts down his book, and starts climbing on top of me. His lips lower onto the area where my neck meets my shoulder. “How about another study break, huh?”

My boyfriend has a lot of stamina. Good thing I do too.

The lock turns on the door to Noah’s suite. He quickly scrambles off me, although the two of us have equally guilty expressions when his roommate George strolls into the room.

George winks at us, “Am I interrupting something?”

Noah and I exchange looks. “No,” I say quickly, just as Noah says, “Yeah.”

George laughs and claps Noah on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll be out of here soon, so you can have some privacy.” He gathers some texts from a bookcase on the wall. “By the way, Noah, I heard the good news! Congrats!”

I can’t help but notice the way Noah stiffens.

“What good news?” I ask.

“NYU for med school!” George gathers his books in his arm and punches Noah’s shoulder using his free hand. “You smart bastard. Good going.”

“Thanks,” Noah mumbles.

George walks into his own bedroom, whistling the whole way, completely oblivious to the shitstorm he has just created. I slide to the other end of the couch, staring at Noah. “Were you planning to tell me?”

He scratches at his head. “Uh…”

Here’s the thing: Noah’s graduating in June. I still have another year left of college (and no idea what to do with my life, but that’s a whole other issue). He’s been applying to medical schools all over the place, but only Syracuse is anywhere near the college. He hasn’t yet been offered an interview at Syracuse. And I know he’s had his heart set on a school in the city.

My question is: where does that leave us?

It’s a question I’ve been afraid to ask the boy I truly want to spend the rest of my life with. Because I’m not sure he feels the same way. I mean, I know he loves me. But does he love me enough?

“Look,” Noah says, “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I’ve just… I’ve been working out what I want to do about everything.”

“Have you?”

He nods. “Yeah. It’s an important decision. It’s the rest of my life, Bailey.”

“So…” I take a deep breath. “Do you think you’re going to go to NYU?”

Noah chews on his lip for a minute. Finally, he says, “Yeah, I probably am.”

Just as my heart starts to sink, he quickly adds, “But that doesn’t mean we have to break up. I was thinking that we could… you know, not break up.”

I raise my eyebrows at him. “And how would that work, exactly?”

He smiles and shrugs. “I’d drive up to see you. You’d drive down to see me. It would only be a year and then we can be together.”

“Meaning I’d have to move to the city.”

“So?” Noah frowns at me. “You’re an artist. Isn’t New York City, like, the art capital of the world?”

“I think Paris is the art capital of the world.”

He furrows his brow. “So… you’re saying that after you graduate, you want to move to Paris?”

“No.” I sigh. “I’m just saying that if you expect me to follow you to New York, I’d expect a little more of a commitment from you.”

“More commitment?” he repeats. “What are you talking about? I’m not some guy you just met. We’ve been dating for two years!”

“I know, but…” This argument isn’t going to a good place. “Look, we’re dating, but it’s not like we’re engaged or anything.”

“Engaged?” Noah’s blue eyes become huge. “Are you kidding me? I’m only twenty-one years old! You really expect us to get married?”

His words sting. It doesn’t surprise me, but it hurts nonetheless. My father proposed to my mother in college, after all. And Noah has been very serious about our relationship. He’s taken me to two semiformal dances, he’s met my parents and I’ve met his mom, and we spend all our free time together.

“No, I don’t,” I say. “I don’t expect us to get married. But likewise, you can’t expect me to follow you to Manhattan.”

Noah sighs and drops his head against the futon. “Shit, Bailey. I don’t want to lose you, but… I’m not ready to get married yet. I’m not.”

“I understand,” I murmur.

I understand. I really do. Noah is right—he’s only twenty-one years old and doesn’t want to rope himself into a commitment. I knew it was what he was thinking all along. Yes, he loves me and we have amazing sex. But I’m sure he can find another girl with whom he can check off those boxes just as well. Guys who look like Noah and want to be surgeons don’t want to be tied down with their college sweetheart for the rest of their lives. I get it.

But I have to admit, there was a part of me that was hoping he’d be willing to make that commitment. Hoping he’d decide he was never going to find anyone he loved as much as me, and he couldn’t let me go. The fact that he isn’t willing to propose makes me think that he believes he might find someone better than me someday.

And if that’s the case, I can’t plan my life around him.

_____

 

Noah is graduating today.

It makes me sick to think about it. No, that sounds bad. I’m happy for him—I truly am. But at the same time, graduation means that Noah will go to New York City and spend the next four years making new friends at NYU and meeting new girls who will soon replace me. I already hate these new girls.

We won’t even have the summer together. Noah just finished the last of his vaccinations and is flying out to Africa next week to help dig a well in Gambia. That’s what he’s doing with his last summer before med school—digging a freaking well. He says it’s really important, that the people in the town don’t have clean water, et cetera, et cetera. He’s not doing it to pad his resume—he genuinely cares about this cause. So I would have felt like a monster if I begged him to stay in the states to hang out with his girlfriend when there are dehydrated little Gambian children who need clean water. Although I’m not entirely sure why they can’t dig their own damn well.

Wow, I sound like such a bitch. But it’s only because I can’t stop thinking about how much I’ll miss Noah.

Noah looks painfully handsome dressed in a crisp white shirt with a blue tie. He got his hair cut very short for his medical school interviews and he seems to be keeping it that way. It makes him even more conventionally good-looking than he was before, but I miss the shaggy hair he used to have. Maybe because the whole thing feels like a sign that he’s moving on.

Without me.

I’m helping Noah tie his tie. I watched a video about how to do it, so I’m doing it for him. I loop one end of the tie over the other, watching his Adam’s apple bob. I’m inches away from his face, and I can’t help but notice how nice he smells. He started using a new brand of aftershave lately. I love it, actually, but it also makes me sad. Noah’s changing. He’s going to move on.

“There,” I say as I tighten the knot on his tie. I brush off imaginary lint on his shirt. “Perfect.”

Noah turns to examine himself in his bedroom mirror. “I wouldn’t say perfect.”

“Pretty good for a first try!”

He smiles crookedly. “That’s a little different than ‘perfect,’ isn’t it?”

I let out a huff. “What’s the difference? You’re going to be wearing a cap and gown anyway.”

Noah looks down at the black cap and gown lain out on his bed and shakes his head. “It’s a million degrees out. I’m getting out of that stupid gown the first second I can.”

“Well, I think the tie is fine,” I say.

“Fine!” he snorts. “So we’ve gone from ‘perfect’ to ‘pretty good’ to ‘fine.’ You’re worrying me, Bailey.”

What I really want to say to him is, Why are you obsessing about a stupid tie when we’re probably never going to see each other after this?

Except he doesn’t care. Not really. He’s already moved on. He mentioned a graduation party his mother is throwing for him in a few days, and only half-heartedly invited me. If you feel like it.

In his head, I’m already his ex-girlfriend. And it makes me so depressed, I can’t even think straight.

I deeply regret our conversation earlier in the year. I wish I hadn’t laid down an ultimatum. Marry me or break up. Clearly, he’s not ready to get married, and now I’ve backed myself into a corner. He’s already got it in his head that we’re breaking up, and he’s made peace with it. If I suggested doing the long distance thing at this point, he’d probably say no.

He’s the best thing I ever had, and I lost him because of my own stupidity. I will never meet another guy I like as much as Noah. I’ll never meet someone who races to open doors for me, deeply cares about the welfare of children in Gambia, and makes me knees weak when he kisses me. There’s only one Noah Walsh in the world, and I blew it.

“You look perfect,” I correct myself. “That was what I meant.”

Noah smiles and puts his arms around my waist. “You look perfect too.”

Just not perfect enough.

I swallow a gigantic lump in my throat. “So… when do you have to go?”

“Pretty soon.” Noah looks down at his watch. “Actually, I need to get out of here any minute now.”

“Oh.” This is it. The end.

“There’s just one thing I need to do before I go.” He turns away from me and reaches into the top drawer of his desk. I don’t see what he pulls out of it, but then a second later, he’s on the ground. He’s on his knee. He’s taking my hand in his and…

Oh my God, he’s asking me to marry him.

“Bailey,” he begins.

I turn away from him. I’m already crying. I can’t seem to stop. I might never stop.

“I love you so much, Bailey,” he goes on, “and… hey, stop crying.”

“I can’t,” I manage, wiping my eyes with the hand he isn’t holding.

“Look, I know this isn’t exactly what you wanted,” he says, “but I love you and I want to be with you forever. So… will you marry me?”

I look down at the ring. It’s very simple—a plain silver band with a tiny diamond another woman might have laughed at. But I know Noah’s hurting for money, what with his med school tuition looming on the horizon, so the fact that he managed a diamond at all makes me cry even harder.

A crease forms between his brows. “You’re not saying anything.”

“Yes!” I practically yell the word. Thank God he didn’t do a public proposal because I’m sure my response would have been on YouTube, embarrassing me for decades to come. “Of course, yes.”

Noah gets back on his feet. He places the ring on my shaking finger, made all the more difficult because he’s shaking too. We grin dumbly at each other and then kiss for several minutes. I can’t seem to let go of him.

“I thought you weren’t ready to get married,” I say when we finally separate for air.

“I want to be with you,” he says firmly. “That’s all that matters.”

“It can be a long engagement,” I say, and he laughs. I mean it though. I don’t need a wedding right now—just knowing that Noah and I are going to be together forever is all I need.