Page 142 of The Kissing Booth
Although once, when I was dropping Brad at the park to play soccer with his friends, I saw Noah getting in a fight with some guy he was playing football with, while the rest of the team egged them on.
For all I’d managed to change him, he was still the bad-ass guy I’d grown up with. I kind of liked that, though. It was comforting, in a way, to know he hadn’t totally lost the rough edges I’d ended up falling for.
The bike, on the other hand... He kept trying to get me to ride it, saying it was easier to park than his car, and faster; he even wanted to teach me to ride it for myself. But I remained adamant: I hated the bike.
And then we were at the airport, the tannoy overhead announcing that the eight-oh-five to Boston was now boarding at Gate Five, if all passengers could please make their way to...
I stood up with Noah and felt his hand tighten on mine. He slung his rucksack over his shoulder with his free hand.
‘Guess this is it,’ Lee said. I let go of Noah’s hand as the two brothers gave each other one of those brusque guy-hugs, slapping each other’s backs. ‘Good luck.’
‘Try not to get in too many fights, son,’ Matthew told him, slapping his back but with authority in his voice. Noah just nodded but we all knew he wasn’t really paying any attention.
‘Call us when you get there,’ June said, hugging him. She was beaming proudly, but her eyes were mournful to see her little boy growing up and moving across the country for college, leaving the nest. She swallowed, like she was trying not to cry.
And hell, she wasn’t the only one.
I didn’t want to lose him. I still didn’t want him to go; but it wasn’t my choice to make. I knew that there was a chance this might not work out between us.
And you know what?
I was okay with that.
Not every relationship is going to last forever, not outside of fairy tales. I might fall in love a hundred times before I found the one I’d want to spend the rest of my life with, and maybe that one would be Noah, maybe it wouldn’t. I knew things might have to end, and I didn’t want them to – but if they did, I’d deal with it.
Maybe I’d be the one to get my heart broken, waiting for some other guy to come piece it back together; but until then, I was happy to stay in love with Noah even if he was all the way over in Boston. I was living in the present.
Iwantedit to last forever, though; the hopeless romantic in me hadn’t died out just yet.
I walked up to the gate with Noah. A small queue of people filtered smoothly past the woman checking their boarding documents. He squeezed my hand and then turned to face me.
‘It’ll work out,’ he told me. ‘Somehow.’
‘Now who’s being the silly romantic?’ I teased.
‘I’ll see you in a few weeks,’ he told me. After a pause he said, ‘I’ll miss you.’
‘I’m going to miss you too.’ I went up on my toes to give him a kiss, before dropping back down. ‘We’re trying it at least. They can’t say we didn’t try.’
‘Ever the pessimist, aren’t we, Shelly?’ he joked, tweaking my nose. ‘I’ll call you when I get there.’
‘You better call your mom first,’ I told him. ‘She’ll be mad if you don’t tell her you landed safe.’
‘I think you’re right,’ he laughed, and his arms wrapped around my waist.
‘Final call for all passengers boarding the eight-oh-five to Boston...’
I sighed and hugged him tight, breathing in his scent. I knew it so well, but now I was trying to fix it into my senses permanently. He hugged me back, and I tried to memorize that feeling too – his arms around me, his face in my hair.
‘I love you,’ he breathed in my ear.
‘I love you,’ I replied, all of a sudden trying to hold back the tears that pricked behind my eyes. ‘So much.’
‘We’ll try,’ he told me, kissing me now, his lips soft and sweet on mine. He tasted like cotton candy, just like when we’d first kissed: he’d bought some from a sweet stand in the airport – ‘For old times’ sake.’
My fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck, and the familiar sparks danced through me as we kissed. It was like all the happiness, all the sadness, all the hopes and fears – everything we had went into that kiss. What seemed like decades later, we broke apart, his forehead resting against mine.
‘I have to go,’ he murmured.
