I couldn’t bear it if Dad let it slip to Lee and Noah’s parents first in a crazy proud-parent moment, and that was how Lee or Noah found out. I didn’t even know how Noah would react to me getting into Harvard, or what he’d say if I decided to go—maybe him saying it’d be nice to have me there had been a throwaway comment, something he didn’t actually mean. Maybe he wouldn’treallywant me there anyway.
And Lee…
Lee would be so hurt if I turned around and told him that, actually, despite all our promises, and despite how put out I’d been when I’d heard he’d applied to Brown, I’d done the same thing behind his back to be with Noah.
“Gonna have to decide soon, bud,” Dad said. He reached over to squeeze my shoulder. “There’s only so long Harvard will wait before they need an answer about this.”
Before I told Noah and Lee, I had to figure this out for myself first. And fast.
Chapter Two
I spent the rest of my morning getting ready for lunch with the Flynns. Lee’s mom had organized for us all to go out for a fancy meal to celebrate our graduation. I usually wasn’t one for dressing up, so there had been a few outfit changes and a slightly desperate video call to Rachel, who was also going to be there. It had been enough to distract me from thinking too hard about the two admittance letters that now sat in my desk drawer. And then, of course, Noah had come by to pick me up and drive me to the restaurant, so it wasn’treallylike I’d had the time to think about it.
“So,” Noah said, slinging his arm around my shoulder once we were out of the car. My hand moved up automatically, fingers locking with his. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Careful. Don’t wanna hurt yourself.”
He rolled his eyes.
“About?” I prompted, jokes aside.
“I was thinking,” he said again, “maybe this summer you could come with me to Boston. You can check out where I’m gonna be living. I can show you your dresser drawer.”
“You saved a dresser drawer just for me? Awww,” I cooed at him, turning my face up to his to bat my eyelashes. I pinched his cheek playfully. “Look at my boyfriend, the big ball of mush.”
He wassucha big ball of mush. At least compared to how he’d been when we first started dating. Noah had been our school’s bad boy, with a reputation for hooking up with tons of girls (which he later told me was mostly untrue). He even had a motorcycle, and he used to smoke just to help him look the part. And here he was, talking about the dresser drawer he’d reserved for me.
I loved him so much.
“It would’ve been so awesome if you’d been in Boston with me. Even if it wasn’t at Harvard. We’d have seen so much more of each other. Could’ve even, like, gotten an apartment together over the summer or something.”
I stopped in my tracks, pulling my hand from his before he noticed how clammy it had become.
Noah stopped walking, too, turning around with a laugh. His face was stiff, though, and he couldn’t quite meet my eyes, looking past me at the parking lot instead. “What, too mushy? I thought you wanted me to open up more, be more honest, not all macho-macho and never talking about anything emotional.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
Noah’s cheeks flushed pink. “I mean, like, you know. Elle.” He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t serious. I mean.”Gulp.“Moving in together’d be a big step. We’re not there yet. I was just joking around.”
This should be where I told him I got in. Hell, this should be where I told him I’d actually applied in the first place on the impossible chance that I might end up in Boston with him. He had no idea, but here he was talking about how nice it would be to have me around, how we couldlive together.
The idea of Noah wanting to make such a big commitment and live with me should have made my heart do somersaults. I should have been squealing and throwing my arms around him and shouting,Surprise! We can! I can come to Boston!
This was definitely where I should tell him.
Especially when he looked so mortified that he’d suggested we live together in what was almost a throwaway comment and thought I was horrified at the very idea.
“Elle?”
Crap. Come on, Elle, say something. Tell him!
I looked at Noah, focusing back on his face instead of staring right through him. And I said, “I think I left my curling iron on.”
I didn’t think he bought it, but he said, “Text your dad. He can check for you.”
I quickly pulled out my phone and pretended to send my dad a text, typing it out and then deleting it straightaway.
“C’mon, we’re already late,” Noah said.
