I hadn’t even thought about how I’d afford to do all those bucket-list items when I’d suggested it to Lee. I mean, race day alone…I’d spent so much time last summer and during senior year applying for jobs and not getting any of them—mostly because I didn’t have the “experience.” Something told me this summer wouldn’t be any different. Maybe we could set up some kind of crowd funder? Was that even legal?
I tossed a few pieces of makeup from my dresser into my open suitcase, then ran my hands over my face. It’d be fine. It’d have to be. College was sorted, so now I just had to pull off the bucket list, find some way to pay for it, help fix up the beach house per June and Matthew’s instructions, come back to babysit Brad while my dad went on dates with the oh-so-perfect, oh-so-wonderful Linda….
“Get it together,” I muttered to myself.
One thing at a time. I could stress over babysitting whenever that came up, and the bucket list could wait a little while. Right now I just had to make it through packing—and I was already running late.
Eventually, though, it was done. I hauled my suitcase downstairs and said my goodbyes to Dad and Brad, who complained to me yet again about not spending summer with us at the beach house. He’d bickered with me over it pretty much nonstop for the last few days since I’d mentioned it, and I was sure, if we gave him the chance, he’d smuggle himself into the back of one of our cars.
But even that was done soon enough. I loaded my bag into the trunk of my car and headed over to Lee and Noah’s—where I quickly discovered neither of them were actually ready to leave.
“I thought you guys were packed?”
Noah bit his lip for a moment, a slightly guilty look on his face as I appeared in his bedroom doorway. He caved quickly, though, and said, “We thought if we told you we weren’t planning to leave until lunch, you’d still be packing.”
I let out a scandalized gasp, swiping playfully at his arm as he laughed. I climbed onto an empty spot on his bed, around his bag and the piles of clothes he was packing, and crossed my legs. “You’re a pair of dirty liars. Give me some credit. I’m ready now, aren’t I?”
“Are you?”
He had a point. It was about two hours until we were due to leave, as I had just found out, and chances were I’d remember something I’d forgotten to pack. Which was stupid, I knew, because I’d be back home every couple of days to help look after Brad, so it wasn’t like I couldn’t pick anything up, but—
“Aw, crap.” I smacked a palm against my forehead. “I didn’t pack any bras.”
Noah shot me a smirk, raising an eyebrow. “Doesn’t sound like a problem to me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Keep it in your pants, you. You’ve got packing to do.”
We sat quietly for a minute while Noah pulled a shirt out of his closet to fold and I went through a mental checklist of what else I might have forgotten to pack.
“You know,” he said with that suspicious, too-blasé tone that made it obvious he was ready to talk about something kind of serious, “I know this isn’t perfect because we’re selling the beach house, but I think this could be good for us. For me and you, I mean. Kind of like a…test ‘living together’ thing.”
I stared at him as he refolded his shirt for the third time.
“Living together…like a couple.”
“Why not, huh? We got through long-distance last year, right? So this should be a breeze.”
“A breeze,” I repeated. Long-distance hadn’t exactly been what I’d calla breeze.We’d broken up once. And it wasn’t like everything had been just peachy after that. It had been better, and good, but it hadn’t been easy.
I didn’t see how living together could be any harder, though.
And I couldn’t deny that my heart gave a little flutter at the idea.
“You’d really wanna live with me? At Harvard?”
“Well, I was thinking about it.” Noah sighed, finally looking at me. He was kind of shifty, and he chewed on the inside of his cheek. When we’d first gotten together, he’d been totally awful at any kind of emotional conversation, but he’d become more comfortable with it in the time I’d known him—and, more noticeably, since he’d gone to college. This, apparently, was not one of the conversations he was comfortable with. “Obviously you’ll be in freshman dorms this year, but maybe…you know, if we stuck around in the summer for internships or maybe in your sophomore year…just, you know. You’ll be at Harvard. I’ll be at Harvard. We’ve already been together over a year. It’s not like it’d be…I mean, there were kids in my class sophomore year of high school who gotmarriedafter being together for a month.”
“Have you been thinking about marrying me, Noah Flynn?” I teased, unable to help myself, reveling in the blush that colored his cheeks and feeling only alittlebad about the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot.
“It’s not like we’d be moving that quick. Unless you think we would. I…I just thought, you know, we could…save on rent.”
“So your decision for us to maybe move in together next year is based on…financial acumen.”
He met my gaze long enough to see me grinning at him, biting my tongue, and nodded gravely. “A hundred percent.”
He tossed aside the pile of underwear he’d just grabbed out of his drawer to kneel on the bed, his body stretching toward me. His bright blue eyes crinkled slightly at the corners and I could see the dimple in his left cheek I thought was so goddamn adorable.
“Elle Evans, I’m in love with you. And I would love to live with you in Boston next year.”
