Page 138 of The Kissing Booth
He shrugged. ‘I thought it was more romantic than saying, “Hey, Elle, I’m going to take you to... to see the sunset and a firework display,” and you’ve always loved those corny romance movies.’
‘Well...’ I bit my lip sheepishly. ‘Okay, okay, I see your point. Let’s go.’
‘Impatient, much?’
‘Okay, just take a left here... then second right. There should be a parking space there.’
I followed his directions, and wished I hadn’t asked to drive here. I was so focused on not scratching the car that I had to keep my eyes on the road. I couldn’t let my eyes roam around the streets and try to figure out where we were headed. I didn’t recognize any of these roads – I didn’t have any clue where he was leading me, and even less of a clue as to what this surprise was.
I found a space to park and got out of the car, hearing Noah’s door slam shut too.
‘All right, then,’ I said, unable to rein in a grin. ‘Lead the way.’
He smirked, and grabbed my hand as he stepped up onto the sidewalk beside me, linking our fingers together. Our arms swung like a pendulum as we walked back in the direction we’d come from.
Looking around, I realized we were no longer in the city, or even a town. Some of the houses seemed to have been converted – the ground floor occupied by a florist’s shop, or a baker’s. I still had no idea where we were, but it looked nice. There were a few trees planted on random squares of grass, and flowers blooming on the windowsills. There were a few people milling around, one or two dog-walkers amongst them, and the occasional car driving past.
It was a quaint little village. I heard church bells peal somewhere off in the distance, as if to echo my thought.
I turned back to Noah, who caught my eye and gave me that half-smile, half-smirk, like he thought keeping me in the dark about where we were going was funny.
I smiled back, squeezing his hand.
‘Here we are.’ He stopped, and I took a step back, letting him lead me into the shop we stopped outside. There was a dark green awning over the doorway, casting a shadow over Noah’s face as he pushed open the door. A bell tinkled – it was a cute kind of sound, reminding me of the fairy inPeter Pan.
Then it hit me. The smell.
It was a gorgeous aroma: sweet vanilla, strong cocoa, the hazy sweetness of melted sugar, and the all-round stomach-rumbling, mouth-watering scent of chocolate. It drifted out of the shop the second Noah opened the door, blasting me full-force and making me gasp.
I stepped inside ahead of Noah, who held the door open for me. Only a few months ago, I remembered going into his house behind him to see Lee. He knew I was there, but didn’t even think of holding the door for me – just let it swing shut for me to catch on the way in. He didn’t do it out of spite: it was just Noah Flynn being typical Noah Flynn.
But I didn’t miss the way he held the door for me now. It seemed so trivial, so unimportant, but I shot him a smile nonetheless.
Then I let the smell of the chocolate wash over me again. The shop was lit by warm, firelight-yellow lamps. On the floor was a dark, mahogany-colored carpet, and the walls were a soft cream color. There was a counter with a cash register on it – some childish part of me was delighted to see that it was a really old cash register, the kind that had buttons like an ancient typewriter and made a loud ring when you opened the drawer.
The shop looked as sweet as it smelled, and as I turned in a slow circle, my mouth forming an O and my eyes widening in sheer awe, I saw all the chocolates.
I didn’t know what to do – where to look first; what to say to Noah.
‘Hello, dears!’ trilled a voice. It was the sort of voice you knew belonged to an old person, and when I looked up from the pralines lined up on the glass counter, I saw a woman who was in her sixties or seventies. She was just the kind of person you could picture owning a candy store.
She was plump, with really rosy cheeks, and dark gray hair pulled back into a bun, wispy strands escaping around her face. She wore jeans and a white cotton blouse, with a bright pink apron tied that was stained with chocolate and sugar and cream, icing and syrup and fudge. Some of it looked almost decades old, like it was a part of the apron itself, but some had clearly been slopped down her that morning.
‘Hi,’ Noah said, strolling past me. ‘I called ahead, earlier? My name’s Flynn.’
‘Oh, of course, of course! I remember. I’ve got it right here for you, dear! Just give me two seconds!’ The woman gave a motherly smile, before bustling backwards, knocking over a stack of cardboard boxes as she did so. Luckily, it sounded like they were all empty.
‘Whoops-a-daisy!’ She shoved them back into place, laughing at her own clumsiness. As she retreated out of sight, I heard her humming tunelessly to herself in the back of the shop.
‘You called ahead?’ I asked, and Noah turned to look at me. I felt a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. ‘How’d you even know about this place, anyway?’
‘I, um...’ He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck. ‘Remember when – no, you probably don’t – but when we were really little, I read that book,Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and I kind of got it in my head that I wanted to go to Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, and my mom – and your mom, I remember, she tagged along too – my mom brought me here because she said it was close enough. I remembered about it a couple of years back and took a bus up here to find it again.’
It took a minute to sink in. For one thing, it was so un-Flynn-like for him to disclose a personal memory like that; for another, thinking of him as such a cute little kid wanting to visit Willy Wonka made me want to giggle. Not in a mean way – in a cute way.
Though I didn’t think he’d appreciate me mentioning the cuteness.
So instead I said, ‘I remember. I wanted the book for a school project. There were no copies left in the library, and Lee told me you had one so there was no point in buying it, and you wouldn’t let me have it.’
