(Noah)
There are moments of my life etched in memory, moments whose every detail has never left me. Some happy, some not. Many, maybe most, involving Elle. Now is one of those moments, but it's far from the first.
It's Lee's and Elle's sixteenth birthday party, and her laugh is the first thing I hear when I walk outside. That's nothing new, she's always around, always giggling her head off about whatever nonsense she and Lee are up to. What is new is the feeling that shoots through me at the sight of her.
I can't solely blame the dress she's wearing for my reaction, even if the way it slides over her silhouette absolutely isn't helping. After all, I've seen Elle a million times before, in every kind of outfit, including many a lot more revealing than this one. In her school uniforms, in her soccer gear, in swimsuits and bikinis, in dresses for parties and in sweats for movie nights. And it's not like I'd never noticed that she's pretty. But she's also... Shelly. I may not share Lee's belief that she's practically a sister—the sibling he'd much rather have gotten instead of me—but she's still in her own category. A category I really shouldn't be reacting this way to.
Tuppen walks up to me with a knowing look, and I realize he's caught me staring at Elle. The same Tuppen that last week after practice included her on his list of girls he intended to hook up with this summer. The detention I earned for that fight was worth it, but it doesn't seem to have left enough of an impression. The jackass just keeps smirking when I glare at him, lifting his bottle in a mocking toast and congratulating me for finally noticing what everyone else had. He walks away before I can react, and I realize he's right: I was staring at Elle just the way he and those other creeps do, and the fact that I feel guilty about it doesn't make it much better. So I walk back inside and distract myself as best I can. Lee's outside with her, and I can trust him to watch out for her.
Later that evening Elle spots me kissing Morgan and gives me a scornful look. Who knows if that's because Elle knows Morgan was Tuppen's date or if it's just Elle's usual scorn for my social activities, but either way the mood is ruined now that all I can think about is Elle. Again. Elle in that shimmery blue dress that I really wish were a lot longer and a lot baggier and a lot uglier and just generally a lot more... resistible. Elle in that shimmery blue dress, lifting one disdainful eyebrow at me and shaking her head as she walks away. I bail on the party at that point, and I tell myself not to invite Elle to parties anymore, at least not until I can shake off this ill-advised attraction.
It's the night of the kissing booth, and I'm parking my motorcycle next to a diner I'm grateful to find still open this late. The place is nearly empty as I wait for my coffee and I'm glad for the quiet. Then again, I already got a lot of solitary thinking time on the ride up here and it doesn't seem to have helped any. I kissed Shelly. I kissed Shelly and I desperately want to do so again, no matter how terrible of an idea that is.
If it had just been that kiss at the kissing booth, maybe I could convince myself it was no big deal. Well, those two kisses. I can't be blamed for the first one; the whole ridiculous kissing booth concept was her brainchild, and she practically ordered me to show up. And the second kiss, well, maybe I could blame that one on temporary insanity. A primal reaction before my brain could remind me my fascination with her is dangerous.
But everything after leaving the carnival... I'm out of excuses. I spent the hour after kissing her mentally listing all the reasons why it shouldn't happen again, and then a rain-soaked Shelly leapt at me and all those reasons dissolved. I wish I could blame temporary insanity here too, but I very distinctly remember staring at her, telling myself I shouldn't kiss her back, and then doing so anyway. Deliberately. Because I wanted to. Because the fact that she clearly wanted me to thrilled me.
Except all too soon we were interrupted and Shelly was reminded of why this is a terrible idea. Why she deserves a lot better. Not that I'd intended another kiss when I'd pulled off the road, or stopped for any reason beyond not getting us killed. It was just my damn luck that I've got some history in this gazebo and that a wiseass guard decided to torture me with it.
So now I'm drinking my coffee and running through that list of reasons again. Because she's Lee's best friend and my mom practically considers her a daughter. Because if this ends poorly it's going to be painfully awkward for a really long time. Because she's never dated anyone and if I'm honest neither have I, at least not in the way she seems to want. Dating is complicated. Dating implies feelings beyond two people having some no-expectations fun. It's a terrible idea.
Except I want to. Because she drives me crazy. Because I'm disappointed when I get home and she and Lee are elsewhere. Because I know the instant she walks into any room. Because ever since that rainy afternoon in this very diner I've been hoping for another opportunity to be alone with her. Yeah, I'm well aware this is the same diner. I may not have recognized it when I pulled over, but as soon as I walked in I realized where I was, and the memories of that day aren't helping at all.
I don't come to any grand conclusions sitting in that diner that night. I don't resolve to stay away from her, nor do I convince myself this could work. All I do is acknowledge the obvious. That my feelings for Elle might run a lot deeper than a crush, and that I'd like a chance to find out, no matter the risks.
It's my senior year, a day before prom. I've been crashing with a guy I know from football camp for over a week. I drove restlessly, aimlessly, angrily after leaving my house last week, after Elle told me to go; I needed to get away, to put as many miles between us as I could, but I wasn't sure where to go. Every place I'd usually escape to reminds me of her now. Finally I ended up at Ryan's house, and for the past week I've been trying not to think about any of it. About Elle, about the fight, about Lee, about how all of this collapsed so easily. And about how I should have expected this outcome. Should have known that she'd always pick him over me, always forgive him anything but me nothing.
Mom knows where I've been staying. I haven't told her why, but I'm sure Lee's publicized my grand treachery, my unforgivable error in judgment. As though falling for Elle had been a choice. As though the folly hadn't been as much hers as mine, although I'm sure Lee is punishing her too. It's been a week, and now it's time to come home and get used to a new reality, at least long enough to graduate and find an excuse to head to Boston early. Which is why I'm pulling into the school parking lot this afternoon, my bag full of final assignments I need to hand in if I want to actually graduate. It's a Friday at three, which means Elle is at soccer practice and I can duck in and out of the school without any awkward encounters.
Except she's not at soccer practice. She's sitting at one of the outdoor tables, her head buried in homework, and at the sight of her I realize everything I've been telling myself all week has been a lie. None of this was a mistake. All of it was real, is real, and I still want this to work out. Still love her, even if it's only in this moment that I'm understanding that's the right word. I'm not over her, and I've got to give this another shot. Somehow.
I'm tempted to just go up to Elle right now and tell her all this, but instead I make myself park on the far side of the parking lot, out of sight. I've got to find the right words first. Some way to show her how serious I am. But this morning's plan, the plan to accept the situation and move on, went out the window the second I saw her again.
It's the weekend before I need to fly back to Boston for my sophomore year, and I have never loved and hated Lee more. That ass talked me into driving out to the beach house with him, kept smirking and watching the door once we got here, and now he's stolen my car after snatching Elle's keys from her hand as soon as she walked in.
I'd be furious at Lee for trapping me with her, except I'm too busy watching Elle's face shift seamlessly from confusion to fury to helpless laughter. She still looks bewildered, she's still cursing Lee, but her attempts to speak keep collapsing into giggles, and suddenly I realize that I'm grinning at her, realize that I have been since basically the second the door slammed shut behind Lee.
Our reactions make no sense. It's not the first time we've seen each other since the breakup, despite our attempts to avoid each other. All summer we've glared at each other from across the room at parties. Just a few days ago I had to talk myself out of decking a guy I saw with an arm around Elle. She saw me, too, and it was her look daring me to react that kept me away. So instead I left the party and texted back a girl I'd met earlier that week.
And now we're staring at each other from across a room again, but there are no glares this time. We may both be ridiculously stubborn, but our idiocy does have limits. Besides, I'm having trouble remembering why we fought in the first place when all I can think about is how much I love kissing Shelly when she's laughing. So there's not really any decision to be made, not really any choice but to close that distance between us. Her hands are already tangling through my hair as I lift her closer, and as she wraps her legs around me and my arms tighten across her back, both of us reflexively relax into each other, finally getting back to where we belong.
It's a Monday morning in October nine months ago, and I'm trying to memorize the sight of Elle sleeping. Not that I'd ever forgotten it, but it's been two years and I'm still discovering the subtle differences between my memories and the reality now curled against me. Her hair, the longest I've seen it, its coppery sun streaks regained. A new scattering of freckles and those three tiny stars I can't stop tracing. The fuller curve of her hips and some faint scars and fading bruises near her knees that tell me she's still playing soccer. So much the same and yet so much I need to catch up on, two years I've missed and hope she'll share with me.
I woke up today just as I did yesterday morning, with a brief moment of disbelief that the Shelly in my arms, soft and warm with sleep, was real and not merely a dream I'd soon wake from. Relief followed, and then frustration. Frustration that for two years I'd ignored what those dreams were telling me and tried to convince myself of a lie instead. The same lie I'd told myself as I hid out at Ryan's senior year. The same lie I'd told myself that summer we wasted being idiots. The same lie I'd tried to protect by spending the past two years dodging any chance of seeing Elle, because I knew what would happen if I did. And now I have, and here we are.
The question is how we stay here. How we make this reunion the last we'll ever need. I'm in love with Elle, still, always, but we can't keep putting each other through this. So today we need to talk. We need to figure out what went wrong, and we need a plan to keep the distance from making us miserable until I can move back here, or wherever it is we decide to live next. I don't know what Elle's planning after graduation, and I have decisions of my own to make, but I know this time we need to put us first.
I'm sitting on an uncomfortable couch in an unfamiliar apartment, my head tipped back, my jaw clenched, my eyes closed as memories flash past even faster than my heart is racing. A hundred vignettes from our past, all somehow leading here, to this moment I'm still struggling to understand.
Lee's annoying sidekick, except every time she's at our house I find a reason to stay close by. Lee's infuriating and distressingly attractive sidekick that I absolutely shouldn't fall for, except by the time I understand the risk it's too late. Elle, giggling and kissing me like nothing else matters. Elle, chasing after Lee and then turning angry eyes to me. Then, our second chance. A year always aware of exactly how many days since our last visit and until the next one. A foolish breakup, a summer wasted, and then our third chance. Two years of thinking we'd figured it out, of relaxing and enjoying each other. A summer with Elle all to myself and a growing confidence in our future. Then, the accident. One disaster avoided, another unexpected. Years where my memories of Elle are memories of absence and of a slow coming to my senses. October, when our fourth chance didn't even make it past a weekend—but its consequences did.
Elle, pregnant. At the pool, her swimsuit revealing a secret I can't believe she'd keep from me. At her door, my long-disappeared hoodie wrapped around her like armor. Clinging to me as she cries and I wrestle a jumble of conflicting emotions. Elle, looking at me with that determined face as she finally answers the question that's been torturing me since I saw her.
And now, clarity. Clarity in the form of Elle's hand gripping mine as an incomprehensible creature kicks sense into both of us. I finally sit up and open my eyes, and it's Elle. No matter how many times we've screwed up, no matter how we've hurt each other, no matter how furious and terrified and confused I am right now, the answer is still always going to be that I want to be with her. It's Elle, and the hundred heavy conversations ahead of us will need to wait, because first I want to enjoy this moment and this news. Because despite the fury and the terror and the confusion, I also can't deny that I'm strangely, unexpectedly thrilled.
I look at her again, let our eyes meet, wrap her hands in mine. This is one of those moments, I realize. One of those moments when time slows down just enough for me to understand we're at a turning point. No matter what's happened so far, what happens next is up to us.
The terrace doors slide open, Elle steps out, and I realize this is it. The next time someone mentions weddings—probably every time someone does for the next forever years—this is what I'm going to see in my mind. Elle, laughing as she arrives fashionably late to her own wedding, and both of us stilling as our eyes meet. There's no long church aisle separating us, no bridal party lined up between us, just our closest family and friends gathered on a rooftop terrace above the courthouse. Right now, though, it might as well be just the two of us.
All week Elle has refused to tell me anything about her dress, and now I finally get to see it. It's silvery, with some kind of decoration across the top that sparkles in the sunlight. The skirt is plainer, but it swings gracefully at her knees as she approaches me and I can only hope someone's recording this moment. Her hair is up, twisted and braided into a complicated arrangement, and as pretty as it looks I want nothing more than to pull all the pins out and run my fingers through her hair until it's loose and free again, the way I've always loved it best. But that will have to wait until later. For now, I'm just going to stare at her and memorize this moment.
Elle's staring at me, too, and I see her gaze drift down from my eyes to my tie, followed by a grin. I didn't exactly plan this, but after Lee managed to splash coffee on the tie I'd intended to wear, it was either raid Dad's closet, send someone to my apartment to grab another of my ties while staying out of Mom's and Mickey's way as they helped Elle get ready, or... wear the one striped uniform tie still hanging in my closet here. And I had no doubt which of those options would entertain Elle most. At least Lee didn't manage to ruin my suit—Elle specifically demanded I wear this one, and now I see why, since its charcoal color complements the pale grey of her dress. I let my gaze wander and linger over her before returning her grin, and the wink I throw in has the welcome effect of taming the dampness of my eyes.
There are moments from my life etched in memory, moments whose every detail has never left me. Some happy, some not. Many, maybe most, involving Elle. Now is one of those moments, and this time, I realize it as it's happening. I know right now that everything I'm seeing, everything I'm hearing, everything I'm feeling, will stay with me forever. So it would be a shame to rush. We can stand here and grin goofily at each other as long as we want; none of our guests will mind.
It's not like this is the first I've seen Elle today. Usually I'm the first one up, the one watching Elle bury her head under a pillow rather than let the morning light wake her. This morning, though, I opened my eyes to find her staring impatiently at me despite it still being dark out. I recognized a Shelly on a mission, and I should have guessed what that mission was. Already last night she'd been trying to convince me we should hike to the letters, and this morning I gave in. Sure, we'd just gone last week. Sure, she's even more ridiculously pregnant today than she was then. Sure, we had a full day of rather important plans ahead of us that we should have been saving our energy for. None of those eminently reasonable points stood a chance compared to Elle having decided we should, and so off we went.
No one else was around when we arrived just after sunrise, and for a few minutes we sat there in easy silence. Sometimes I wonder what I would have done if I'd known then, that first time here together, what we were getting into. How all this was going to play out. It would have been terrifying, that I know, so maybe our blithe ignorance was for the best.
I'm not sure either of us said a word the whole time we sat there this morning; we just watched the sky become light, exchanged a smile, then headed back to the car. We got home just in time for Mom to show up with Mickey and kick me out, and now I'm glad we had that quiet moment to start this day of all days. Elle was right, as usual.
Now we've got an audience for our wordless beaming, and eventually the spell is broken; we look away from each other, we remember everyone else around us, and we remember why we're here. Time speeds back to its usual pace, but it all still feels surreal.
Mom's friend Carol, dressed in her judicial robes, smiles and asks if we're ready, and I guess we're as ready as we'll ever be. We gather by the railing, Elle and I facing Carol and the others clustered behind us. The photographer discreetly motions and nudges until she can see everyone, but otherwise there's no formal arrangement, no picking of sides. I'm surprised to find Lee standing next to me rather than Elle, until I realize he's positioned himself to make faces at her. Mom glares at him, but it seems appropriate. He can keep on being her deranged sidekick; he and I both know who's luckier here and I'm glad he's forgiven me for it.
Carol greets us all, she offers some comments about love and marriage she tells us she always likes to share at weddings, and then it's on to the vows. We'd intended to write our own, but after several hours of trading ever sillier, more suggestive, or otherwise inappropriate ideas for vows, Elle and I finally settled on one of the examples Carol sent. It may not be personalized or novel, but it's simple, classic, and we like the ritual of it. Soon we're exchanging rings, and then, somehow, that's it, we're married. It seems way, way too easy compared to the years that got us here.
After many rounds of congratulations and posing for pictures I manage to escape with Elle to a quiet corner.
"Mom gave me this before she kicked me out this morning," I tell Elle as I pull a picture from my jacket pocket. She takes it from me curiously, then bursts out laughing at the sight of herself and Lee, dressed in their best four year old approximations of a bride and groom.
"Oh god, she's never going to let me live this down. She's teased me about that wedding at least five times this week. Wait—is that you?" Elle asks, peering closer. There I am in the background, scowling.
"Yep. You tried to make me play the minister, and when I refused I got in trouble for being mean to you guys."
"See, now I know it was jealousy making you refuse," she teases me.
"Back then? Don't take this the wrong way, but no. Unless you mean jealousy of only children."
"Whatever, it was totally jealousy," Elle insists with a laugh.
"You're giving my six year old self way too much credit. It took me a lot longer than that to realize you weren't the most annoying creature on Earth."
"Oh yeah? So when was it?"
I really can't help it when she makes it this easy. "I guess... maybe last week?"
Elle shoves me lightly, and I use the opportunity to pull her into my arms.
"Come on, you know I'm kidding. Lee has always been the most annoying person on Earth. You were... second-most annoying, at worst."
"I can assure you, that opinion was mutual." Elle mutters into my chest, relaxing against me. "I can't believe I had this nice sappy moment planned and here you are, being a smartass."
I chuckle and smooth a hand over her hair, resisting the urge to free it from its careful arrangement. "Tell me more about these sappy plans. I'll be quiet."
"I'm not sure I believe you. Or that I'd actually want you to be."
Elle snuggles in with a satisfied sigh, then continues. "Fine, I'll tell you despite your attempt to torpedo this romantic moment. Look inside your ring."
I have to let go of Elle to slip my ring off, and I squint against the bright sunshine to read the tiny lettering I've just discovered inside. Crazy about you, the tight script reads.
"Are you quoting me about you, or is this a message from you to me?" I ask Elle.
"Either. Both. Your pick," she tells me with a smile.
"Both, then. But I believe you insisted my wedding band had to match yours, and now it doesn't."
"Wrong. I had mine engraved too." She sounds deservedly smug, and I wonder how she managed it; I haven't seen her without her ring since the night we got engaged.
"Same inscription?"
"That's what 'matching' means, yes."
"So you're still stealing my lines, I see."
"I told you—what's yours is mine. Officially, now."
Elle tucks herself against me again once I've got my ring back on, and we stare out at the view together. We can probably get away with another minute to ourselves before we need to return to our guests.
"It really wasn't a line, you know." I add.
"Sure it wasn't," she laughs.
I turn my attention back to the view, and I realize how many of our landmarks are staring back at us, even if they're too far off to make out. Our old neighborhood, the pier, our school, Elle's UCLA apartment and our new one, and of course those letters in the distance. A lot of history, a lot of vivid memories, but even more ahead.