If this were a movie, I'm pretty sure now is when I'd make a grand gesture to prove to Elle how serious I am. Show up outside her window with flowers and the exact right words to convince her to give this a chance. Or, more dramatic yet, tell her at Sunday lunch, with our whole families there to hear it. But I've known Elle forever, and putting her on the spot always backfires. So instead, I keep things as normal as possible at lunch. I don't ignore her, but I don't pester her either, and I don't give in to the urge to gaze at her... much. There's surprisingly little awkwardness between us at the table, and we exchange hidden smiles when Lee laments that Elle had to miss yesterday's movie night—the movie night that she orchestrated for the express purpose of keeping Lee and the rest of her friends out of our way.

Sanj and I need to leave for the airport right after lunch, and I can see Elle hanging back, pretending not to watch me, as we gather our stuff and fend off Mom's attempts to send us back to campus with Thanksgiving leftovers. Finally, I get my chance. Elle's dad and brother have gone home, Lee's upstairs looking for something, Dad and Sanj are loading the bags into the car, and Mom's in the kitchen, probably packing those leftovers we just said we didn't need. That leaves just me and Elle in the living room, and when our eyes meet I can see her debating whether to disappear and thwart any attempt at a private goodbye. But she doesn't, she stays right where she is as I approach her, a smile escaping when I tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

"I'll call you tonight."

"You really don't have to," she laughs with a slight roll of her eyes.

"But I'm going to anyway," I grin.

"Noah... I meant what I said. We don't need to make a big deal out of this."

"And that means I can't call you? I'm going to need guidance on what constitutes too big a deal. Maybe you could explain it to me when I call?"

Elle gives me a look of mock exasperation. "I'm not sure why you think annoying me is a good strategy."

"Because I'm not. If I were annoying you, you'd have followed Lee upstairs instead of sticking around just to say goodbye to me."

"Oh really—is that what I'm doing?"

I let my smirk speak for me, and Elle's attempt to glare in response fails miserably. My hand is still at her shoulder, still where it landed after fixing that distracting strand of hair, and it wouldn't take much to close the distance between us for a last kiss. But I can hear Lee walking down the stairs and my dad calling from outside, and I don't trust us to make this kiss quick enough to escape notice. Instead, I settle for pulling Elle in just close enough to press my lips to the top of her head, and the amused blush she gives me as I walk away is exactly how I plan to picture her until I can see her in person again.

There are a couple messages from Elle waiting when we land in Boston. Nothing personal, just her usual nonsense, but they do make me laugh. A little too loudly, apparently, because Sanj sets his own phone down and gives mine a pointed look.

"So is that the girl you were texting before this weekend, or the one from the party? Because I'm still not convinced the first one was just your friend."

"Still none of your business," I laugh.

"I live with you, and I'm going to keep asking every single time I see you stare at your phone with that goofy-ass smile. So save us both the aggravation and just tell me now."

He has a point, and it's not like Sanj knowing is a problem; he's not going to go running to Lee.

"Both."

"Both what?" Sanj sounds confused.

"You asked which girl it was."

"They're both texting you?"

"They're the same person."

Sanj blinks at me. "The girl you hooked up with at the party is the girl you were talking to before? She's in LA?"

"Correct."

Sanj doesn't look any less confused. "So then why did you keep telling me there was no girl?"

"Because you kept asking with other people around."

"So it's a secret girl?" Now Sanj's confusion has turned to fascination.

"For now."

"But you're telling me."

"Because you're not going to tell the wrong people."

"And the wrong people are... ?"

"In California."

Sanj is quiet a minute, which I'm hoping means he's dropping the subject. But no such luck.

"Wait—your brother's friend, is that who you're keeping this from? Because that girl clearly has a crush on you."

I can't help laughing, and I'm glad to hear Elle's lack of indifference to me is that obvious. "Ah, no. Elle knows, actually."

"So that's why she got mad when I mentioned the girl at Thanksgiving?"

"Kind of."

"Because she doesn't like the girl?"

"Because she is the girl."

The look on Sanj's face before he bursts out laughing is worth how annoying he's going to be about this now that he knows.

Now that Sanj's curiosity is satisfied, I spend the subway ride back to campus trying to figure out what I know. I know I like Elle—a lot. And I can't pretend it's just a platonic thing. I have other friends I find entertaining, other friends I enjoy spending time with. Some of them are even female, and attractively so. But I can see those friends without being consumed by a desire to kiss them. I don't instinctively hate any guy I see smiling at them and I don't feel my stomach drop when they mention guys, not the way it did when I thought Lee was saying Elle and Duncan were dating. So the way I like Elle... it's more than friendship.

And after this weekend, I think that feeling is mutual. I think Elle knows there's something between us, and I think she wants it as much as I do. The problem is, Elle seems convinced it can't work, and I'm still not sure she believes I want it to work. Or maybe she just doesn't think I'm capable of making it work. Either way, that's my challenge for the next few weeks: to get Elle to give me a chance and give us a chance. And maybe the best way of doing that is just to act like we're already there.

So I call Elle when I get back to my dorm from the airport. Not for hours or anything—it's late and practice starts at six on Monday mornings—but long enough to say hi. Long enough to make her laugh about something and to tell her I'll call again tomorrow. She claims I don't need to, but I know her and I know what she sounds like when she's smiling. I do call the next day, and most of the following days, and somewhere around the tenth call Elle stops telling me I'm being ridiculous every time she picks up the phone. Which she always does, I can't help smugly noting—only to myself, of course, because I'm no idiot. We rarely talk for long, but it's always the best part of my day.

One afternoon my phone rings as I'm leaving class, and I'm surprised to see Elle's name. We usually talk much later in the day, and I'm always the one that calls. When I ask her what's up she claims she just felt like saying hi, but she doesn't sound like herself. She also doesn't have much to say, unlike her usual stream of chatter; instead, she keeps finding questions to ask me. I get the feeling she's lonely and just wants someone to talk to—maybe Lee's not around or he's busy, or maybe she's mad at him about something. Not that I mind that she called me, I just can't shake the feeling there's something else. I'm in the middle of a story about a birthday party last weekend when the date hits me. The realization stops me mid-sentence and I have to catch my breath before I can speak again.

"Shell, I am so sorry. It's today, isn't it?"

I can't tell if her quick intake of breath is anger or sadness. I'm furious at myself for not noticing the date sooner.

"Yeah," she finally whispers.

"I am so, so sorry. I should have said something earlier. I should have called this morning. Are you... okay?" I wince at how inadequate that sounds, but there aren't adequate words for losing your mom.

"Yeah. No. Not really. Both, I guess." There's a pause before she continues. "But thank you for remembering."

"Of course. Are you and Lee playing hooky again?"

Last year, on the first anniversary of Joni's death, Lee and Elle spent the whole day at the Pier, returning home sunburned and red-eyed. Not even my dad could blame Lee for blowing off school for that.

There's a weird silence before Elle answers. "No. I'm... I'm not sure he's remembered yet."

"Lee forgot?"

"I think," Elle admits.

I'm going to kick his ass—right after I kick my own for not remembering earlier. For not seeing this date coming and making sure she wasn't alone. Elle remembers every last classmate's birthday and we couldn't manage to remember this for her.

"God, Elle, I really am so sorry. On behalf of my idiot brother, too. Do you want me to yell at him for you?"

"No—don't. It's fine, Noah. I mean, Lee can barely keep track of the days of the week, right? I'm not sure he even knows it's December already," Elle faintly jokes. "Anyway, I don't actually— I don't want to talk about it right now. At school. You were in the middle of telling me about a party—I want to hear the rest."

It feels wrong to talk about anything else, but it's not up to me. So I finish telling Elle about Sanj singing K-pop karaoke after losing a bet, and after that I tell her about a prank some teammates pulled, about the professor who chewed us out today for messing with fonts to make our papers long enough, about the fire alarm going off in the middle of the night because some genius burned microwave popcorn, about whatever random stories come to mind. Eventually Elle tells me she's got to get to class, and the call comes to an awkward end as she brushes off my attempt to ask again if she's okay. But later she simply texts thanks, and I feel a little less like a jerk for not having realized sooner.

By the time finals start, Elle and I have settled into a groove of sorts. She still sends me the same ridiculous stuff as before Thanksgiving, but there are a lot more personal messages mixed in. I call her most evenings and she always picks up, even if sometimes it's only to say she's too busy to talk or to mutter in a muted voice that she's with Lee. But other times we end up on the phone until late, and that becomes more frequent as the weeks pass. I've figured out a list of topics guaranteed to keep Elle talking, things like my roommates' misadventures, her favorite video games, the Country Day gossip she's convinced I want to stay current on, and my occasional off-campus explorations.

There are topics I avoid, though. The nature of our relationship, for instance. As long as Elle keeps taking my calls and as long as her voice keeps getting that breathy hesitation when she says goodnight, like there's more she'd like to say, I'm not going to give her an opportunity to tell me again why this is a bad idea or that I'm making too big a deal out of nothing. Like she said at Thanksgiving—we'll talk about it after I get home. Until then, I'll let her pretend there's nothing at all new about our interactions and that this is just how we've always been. She never tells me she misses me, but she doesn't need to.

I also avoid bringing up Lee. First, because there's no need—I hear plenty about him from Elle anyway. But second, because reminding Elle of the best friend she's convinced would never forgive her for dating me isn't exactly helpful to me. Lee may well throw a tantrum when he finds out, but that doesn't mean he's entitled to, and I'd like to believe he'd get over it.

The other dangerous topic is Elle's college applications. She does mention them sometimes, usually when she's once again convinced herself to scrap her essay and start over. I want to be supportive, but it's hard not asking which schools have made her final list, or whether she's applying early anywhere. She'd mentioned Harvard when she visited and a few other Boston schools since then, but she's also mentioned a lot of California schools. And, given how uneasy she is about admitting we might be more than friends, there's no good way to ask if she's considering being in Boston next year. It's not like I'd expect to have any influence on her decision, but... I'm curious.

And then there are the topics I wish Elle would drop. Specifically, her jokes about my player ways—saying she's sure the girls will be disappointed when I say I'm bailing on a party, or asking if I've got a hot date when I mention dinner plans. I know she thinks she's being funny and I'm sure if I called her on it she'd swear she's just kidding, but all those little comments add up— it's hard not to conclude some tiny part of her still believes that's who I am. Or, maybe it's just another of her attempts to act like whatever it is we're doing is something other than dating, so if things don't work out she can pretend this was never anything to begin with. Whatever the reason, I hate it.

My last final is tomorrow and if I stare at my math notes another minute I'm going to start hallucinating integrals, but I'm too keyed up to sleep. I need a change of scenery, and maybe the bitter cold of the rooftop will literally chill me out enough to fall asleep once I get back to my room.

The view from atop my dorm feels familiar by now, even if it still can't compete with LA's lights stretching into the distance. It's hard to believe that in two days trekking up to the Hollywood sign will be an option again if I need to escape, but the calendar doesn't lie. A final tomorrow morning, a well-deserved party tomorrow night, and the next morning I'm on a flight home. Home, and everything that represents—including Elle.

As much as I've been enjoying our calls, as obvious as it is Elle's feelings aren't any more platonic than mine, I'm still not sure how our long-delayed conversation will go. I'd like to think we're on the same page, but Elle's been too much of a wildcard since the start of this for me to assume anything. And if it turns out she's still not convinced this can work, well, that might have to be when I admit defeat.

But I don't actually think that's likely, and there's no point worrying over it tonight anyway. I need to sleep, take my final, and then get myself back to LA. The rest I'll figure out when I see Elle.

I'm reaching my limit for sub-freezing temperatures, but before leaving the roof I snap a picture of the view and send it to Elle without comment. I'm not entirely sure why, it just seemed like the thing to do. I keep an eye on my phone for a minute to see if the message has been read yet, to see if maybe she'll start typing back, but no such luck. There's still no response from Elle by the time I fall asleep, but in the morning there's a message waiting. I miss you too. And that's got to be a good sign, right?