(Elle)
Getting caught making out is exactly as mortifying at twenty-three as it was at seventeen. Less terrifying, but still mortifying. I mean, not quite caught. Dad did at least knock, and it's not like we were naked, but still. Given my yelp of surprise and the time it took me to open the door, not to mention our poorly-silenced giggling and cursing as we got ourselves presentable, I'm sure it's extremely obvious what we'd been up to.
"Dad! Hi! You're back!" Damn it, I sound seventeen too.
"And so is Noah, I see."
"Just helping Elle finish packing," Noah answers brightly.
"Yes, clearly. How very helpful of you. Elle, should I plan on a fourth for dinner, or should I assume that Noah's reappearance will mean your disappearance?" Dad's way too amused by all of this.
"I, ah, I think we have dinner plans." I stammer.
"I figured as much once I saw Noah's car here. Don't worry about finishing the packing tonight, I'm in no rush to have you gone. Oh, and if your dinner plans involve being out in public, turn your shirt back inside-out." Dad pats my shoulder affectionately before walking away.
"Oh god. This shouldn't be this embarrassing but it is." I've got my hands at my cheeks, willing their scarlet blush to die down.
Noah is laughing at me, that jerk. "Yeah, we keep this up, your dad might get suspicious that we're together."
"Oh, shut up. Just because I know he knows doesn't make getting caught any less mortifying."
"Are we not telling people about the engagement yet?" Noah asks curiously. "Because for once we had the perfect comeback to getting caught."
"It didn't even occur to me. I was too busy trying not to die of embarrassment." I've managed to wrestle my shirt back on the right way now. "But I actually would rather wait, just a little. Not long, but I'd like today to be just ours. If you don't mind."
"As long as I don't have to wait for an answer? We can torture everyone else as long as you want."
Our reunion is temporarily interrupted by the need to get both of our cars back to the apartment, but I'm glad for the time alone with my thoughts. None of them are second thoughts or regrets, but most are rather dazed.
I had been dreaming about Noah, while I napped. We were at a party, and somehow I knew I was dreaming but I couldn't wake up. Which wouldn't have been unpleasant, except for having no idea when the dream was taking place or whether we were together in the dream's reality. None of the other guests or the location looked familiar, just Noah, and I had no idea what to do, no clues about what might be going on between us. I desperately wanted to go over and talk to him, but I was frozen by my total confusion about what our situation was, of whether we were together or broken up or maybe even hadn't ever been together in this alternate reality.
The dream-Noah eventually noticed my staring, but even then I didn't know how to interpret his reactions. He smiled at me slightly, then turned away to talk to someone else. I kept on watching him, standing still in the middle of the crowd of strangers, ignoring them all, knowing none of them were real. But he was real, somehow. Somehow I knew he was real, and yet I still had no idea where we stood, and so I just stayed there, frozen, watching him. That's when the dream went fuzzy around the edges, its sights and sounds fading until I blinked awake. Except it didn't all fade away, because somehow, impossibly, there he was when I opened my eyes, asleep next to me. And I would have thought this was just the next part of the dream, except now I knew. I knew exactly where I was, and when, but more importantly—I knew where we were.
And then ten minutes later we were engaged, which still doesn't feel entirely real. I fell asleep missing Noah and wrestling with what to do about the realization that had just swept over me, and then suddenly, magically, there he was and we were talking and there was laughter and quite a few kisses, and then somehow... it was all decided. This decision that had seemed so daunting, suddenly just... settled.
Getting engaged seems like it should be an earth-shaking moment, like something I should be struggling to get used to or having second thoughts about. Instead, I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I've done it, I've managed it. I've let myself admit that Noah is it and this is it; more importantly, I've managed to admit all that to him. And now I want to shout it from the rooftops to anyone who'll listen, except... I also don't. At least, I don't want to tell those who'd be most interested in learning this news, not yet at least. I want to hide away with Noah somewhere and just grin goofily at each other for at least a solid week while ignoring everyone and everything else. I know we can't, and I do want to tell our families, but it's still nice to daydream about as I make the short drive back to our apartment. Our apartment. I still love saying that.
Noah is being annoyingly tight-lipped about our dinner plans as we get ready. He says no when I ask if I need to dress up, but this also doesn't seem like a leggings-and-stealing-Noah's-shirts-because-none-of-mine-fit-anymore occasion. He puts on nicer jeans and a polo after changing out of his traveling clothes, and I figure a sundress should work anywhere that works. Besides, my wardrobe is limited these days.
I remain in the dark about our destination as Noah drives us away from the apartment. We're heading away from downtown, and we're already well past the Country Day campus and the gazebo. Noah doesn't make the turn that would take us up to the Hollywood sign, and he keeps on driving past the exit for the Pier. That rules out most of the landmarks of our relationship, and I search my memory for other meaningful locations.
"Wait, are we going to the beach house? I would have grabbed extra clothes if I'd known we were going somewhere overnight." I ask in confusion. "Or that place we picnicked once in Santa Barbara? I'm not sure I can wait that long for dinner. I might need you to stop at a gas station so I can grab a snack."
"No and no, and you'll get your dinner soon, I promise. We're nearly there." But he still doesn't tell me where we're going.
Oddly enough, we haven't discussed the engagement since leaving my house; it's like now that the decision is made, the rest is details, and those details can wait. We trade a few stories about our weekends, but for the most part I'm just enjoying the drive and enjoying watching Noah. Finally we pull off the road at what must be our destination, since Noah has stepped out of the car and is at my door offering a hand.
The restaurant in front of which we've parked looks vaguely familiar, although maybe not more so than any roadside diner looks like every other roadside diner. I wrack my brain for any memory of it, but I have no clue, and the interior doesn't trigger any memories either. We're shown to a booth in the corner that's probably the most secluded of the tables, and I wonder if Noah set this up ahead of time or if we just have that look of wanting privacy.
"So, are you going to tell me why we're here?" I finally give in and ask.
"Patience, Shelly." Noah laughs, perusing the menu.
I don't need to look at the menu, because Dinah has already informed me that she requires a cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate shake on the side, and every diner has those. Instead I keep scanning the interior, looking for anything to jog my memory. There's no way Noah picked this place at random, we must have been here at some point. The mystery is driving me nuts and I feel guilty about having forgotten something meaningful to him.
I'm still puzzled by the time the waitress has taken our order and left us alone again. "Seriously, are you going to tell me if I'm supposed to recognize this place? Because I feel terrible about it, but I have no idea."
"You'll figure it out eventually, just like I did." Noah's smirking like my frustration amuses him. I guess it's good that he doesn't seem surprised, or offended, that I can't remember.
Finally it hits me when I see a waitress carrying an ice cream sundae to a nearby table; I do remember this place, I just hadn't been thinking back far enough.
"Wait—is this the place we got stranded? Sophomore year? When your mom made you drive me to my game and you were so obnoxious about it?"
"I was not obnoxious, Shelly."
Oh, but he was, at least at first. At some point spring of my sophomore year, I'd had an away soccer match on a day Dad had to be elsewhere with Brad, and June was planning to drive me. Except that morning Lee tripped and gashed his chin, and so June instructed an annoyed Noah to drive me to my game while she took Lee to get stitches. Noah grumbled all the way there about having to play chauffeur, and his griping only got worse when it started to rain near the end of the game. When the rain started coming down in sheets and the thunder turned dramatic soon after we started driving home, Noah pulled in at the first place he saw to wait out the storm.
I remember being miserable in my sodden uniform and shivering so much that Noah braved the downpour again to retrieve his gym bag from the car, and I remember we were both a little less grumpy once we were in dry clothes, even if I did look ridiculous in his sweatshirt and a pair of athletic shorts staying up only thanks to their drawstring. And then Noah made fun of me for ordering an ice cream sundae minutes after complaining about being freezing cold. That's about all I remember, though. That, and that we'd been stuck here for hours, long enough that by the end of it we'd run out of things to argue about and had actually gotten along. But I'm still not sure I'd have put this place high on a tour of our relationship milestones.
"So you brought me here to remind me that we used to argue a lot?" I ask him.
"Not quite. And we still argue a lot." Noah reasonably points out.
"Differently, though. Now I know how to shut you up. So, why are we here, then?"
"Because of the second time I came here."
"Do I need to try and remember that time, too?"
"No, that time was just me. Are you going to keep interrupting? I have a story I'm trying to tell."
I mime zipping my lips. I do very much want to hear this story.
"That night of the kissing booth, after I dropped you off, I didn't feel like going home. So, I just kept riding. It was actually a nice night once the rain stopped, and, I don't know, I guess being out on the road was helping to clear my head. And my head needed a lot of clearing. Eventually I saw this place and figured I could use some coffee before turning around and going home. So I was sitting here, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened between us that night, and then suddenly I realized I'd been here before. With you. And everything kind of... fell into place. Made sense, finally."
"What did?"
"The kiss. My reaction to it. And a lot of stuff leading up to that day."
"Yeah?" He's never told me this story, and the nervous way he's rubbing at his neck melts me.
"You're right that I was being obnoxious that afternoon the rain stranded us. I'd had plans for the day and they hadn't been to chauffeur you around, let alone get stuck here. But then, I don't know, whatever it was you were babbling on about kept making me laugh, and I realized it had been forever since I'd talked to you without Lee around, and that you weren't nearly as annoying without him."
I flick Noah's hand with a glare, but he just shrugs it off, looking not the least contrite.
"Hey, it's the truth. Anyway, we were getting along decently, or at least arguing less than usual, and at one point the storm really picked up and you made this comment about how your mom loved listening to rain beat down against the skylights at your house. And then you just kind of... crumbled. And I had no idea what to do, and everything I tried saying came out sounding stupid, and finally you told me to ignore the crying and just keep going with whatever dumb school stories I'd been telling."
I don't remember this part, but that sounds about right for that spring. Long enough since Mom died to sometimes go entire hours without thinking about her, not nearly enough time not to fall apart at least once a day.
"So I just kept finding random stuff to tell you. At some point you got mad about something I said and that seemed to cheer you up, so after that I kept looking for ridiculous reasons to tease you, and you fought back in kind, and eventually we were laughing like lunatics about absolutely nothing."
"Didn't the waitress actually shush us once, and threaten to kick us back out into the rain?" I ask, and Noah just nods with a grin.
My memories of that afternoon are sharpening the longer we talk about it. It was so rare for me to get more than a few minutes alone with Noah back then, which I'd only recently realized I craved.
"Did you know I'd had a date that night? The day we got stuck here, I mean." Noah suddenly asks.
"Not really, no. You got around a lot back then; I didn't keep track of your flings. Who with?"
"I have no idea. That's not the part I remember." Noah smiles.
I think I've guessed where this is going. "Oh yeah? So which part do you remember?"
"What I remember is looking outside, seeing the rain was basically gone, and realizing I was disappointed. So I sent whoever she was a message saying I couldn't make it, and then I ordered another basket of fries because I knew there was no way you'd want to leave as long as there were still fries."
"You held me hostage with fries?"
"You didn't look like you were in any hurry to leave, either."
"I wasn't. You were proving a lot more tolerable when you weren't focused on harassing Lee."
"Sounds about right," Noah concedes. "Anyway, when I ended up back here after we'd kissed, I guess that's when I realized that I'd fallen for you that day we were stranded. Well, fallen the rest of the way. I didn't have far left to fall, even if I hadn't noticed yet. I couldn't stop watching you after that afternoon, couldn't stop listening to you. Which was kind of a problem when you were always there. You and Lee, constantly just close enough that I couldn't concentrate on a damn thing. And then I swear you started avoiding me. Which should have been a relief, except it just made it worse. ... Yes, Elle?" Noah must have seen me wince at that last part.
"I, uh, I was avoiding you," I admit sheepishly. "Because I had a crush on you, and I was trying very hard to not have a crush on you. Or at least not embarrass myself while waiting for the crush to fade." It's weirdly mortifying to admit this, even if he's basically admitting the same thing.
"Well, I'm glad I wasn't imagining things, at least. So, anyway, that's why I wanted to come back here with you. Because this is where I finally realized that I was crazy about you and that I wanted to do something about it, not get over it."
"So this is how you'd planned to propose? Over fries and a chocolate shake?"
Noah rolls his eyes at me. "Well, last week I also had a dinner reservation somewhere nicer, but yeah, the plan was to come here afterwards for coffee and ice cream. I figured it wouldn't hurt to surround you with the things most important to you, in the hopes you'd agree to put me in that category too."
"You think you rank with coffee and ice cream?" I tease him. We glare at each other a moment, and I crack first. "Fine. You're way, way ahead."
"I'm touched. Truly." Noah returns my goofy grin while reaching across the table for my shake.
"Noah?"
"Mmhmm?"
"I said you outranked coffee and ice cream, not that you could steal them at will. You still have to ask."
"Is there any chance you'd say yes, if I did ask?"
"If you asked what? Are we still talking about this shake, or did you have some other question planned for this romantic diner date?" I smirk.
"No more questions. You asked, I said yes. I'm not rolling the dice again."
"I think you need to say it too. You made me say it." I remind him.
"You know, this isn't normally a two-step process. One person asks, the other one says yes, that's usually enough. But since I had been looking forward to asking, and since I don't foresee any other opportunities to propose to someone..."
Noah leans forward on his forearms, taking my hands. Yeah, I definitely want him to do this, even if we've already decided.
"I didn't have this part specifically planned out, so bear with me, but I was thinking something like this. Elle, I can't remember the last time I went a day without thinking about you. Not even those years we were broken up—I just learned to live with it. And then October—I don't know what I expected, I just knew I had to go see you. And once I did... god, it didn't seem possible to get that lucky. To be with you again and feel even happier than I remembered. And then—well, we've talked enough about it. I don't want to think about it right now."
I squeeze his hands in silent agreement.
"The point is, I've been in love with you for years, even when I had no clue, and even when I didn't want to be. And I think you know what I mean, because I think it's been the same for you. The feelings never change, just what we do about them, and I sure as hell like it better when we're together.
"So what I'm saying is that we don't need to get married. It's not going to change how I feel, and I'm going to be there regardless. I know it won't change how you feel, either. But do I want to marry you? Yeah. Because it's the easiest way to tell everybody else how I feel, even if I know you already know.
"And I guess now this proposal is completely irrelevant. Not only do we not need this to know how we feel about each other, but we already decided to. But I don't care. I've been looking forward to proposing to you for a long time, and I'm not skipping getting to hear you say yes. So —"
Noah pauses, looking lost for a second, then shakes his head with a quiet laugh.
"Yeah, apparently in all that time looking forward to this I didn't think up a more original way of saying this. But maybe simple is best. Elle, will you marry me?"
The tears that I've been holding back finally defeat me, and I need a moment to catch my breath before I can actually answer. He's right that we don't need this, that we've already decided—not just earlier today, but long before we were willing to admit it. But saying it still means everything.
"Yeah, I don't have a more original way to say it either," I laugh, "so just... yes. A million times."
Noah leans all the way across the table to kiss me, and I'm not the only one both laughing and crying. And then I can't help giggling at what has to be the least important part of all this, but in my giddiness it's all I can think about.
"You managed not to call me Shelly. I'm shocked." I tease him.
"I may have reminded myself not to do that a few hundred times on the drive here. Seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do." Noah grins, sitting back.
"And is this a new policy, or just a special proposal courtesy?"
"I guess you'll have to wait and see."