What would it take? - A Kissing Booth Fan Fiction

Ten

Elle

By the time we're done kissing, I can barely remember how to breathe, let alone what we were fighting about earlier. Noah looks at me with that smile of his that turns my insides to mush, the one that shows his dimples.

"Let's go inside," he says.

"What? Why?"

"Because, Shelly. You've been drinking—"

I try to interrupt, to tell him I'm not drunk, but he cuts me off, placing his index finger against my lips.

"I'm not saying you're drunk, Elle. But I'm sober, and it's obvious to me that you've been drinking. Meaning, it'll probably be obvious to your dad, too, if I take you home right now. Besides," he grins, "it's early, and I don't want to go home yet. So humor me, okay?"

"Fine," I grumble, without really meaning it. Because honestly, I don't want to go home either. At least not yet, not so soon after our fight. I'm still a little on edge after everything that's happened this week. Has it really only been a week since the carnival? It feels like so much longer, with all the ups and downs. My thoughts are interrupted by Noah taking my hand as we walk across the parking lot towards the diner, his fingers lacing between mine.

It feels as natural as breathing to walk next to him, holding hands, but at the same time it's the most thrilling feeling in the world. Noah doesn't pause when we reach the door, he simply pulls it open, holding it for me to go in ahead of him. As I do, I smile to myself. Who would've thought that Noah Flynn would be such a gentleman? I mean, it shouldn't be that much of a surprise, given the way June and Matthew raised both their sons, but I guess I just haven't had the opportunity to see it much up close, until now.

We pick a booth in the back and slide in opposite each other. When the waitress brings water and the menus, Noah looks over at me, a smirk on his face.

"Do you trust me?"

"This was your idea."

"Is that a yes?"

I roll my eyes at him. "Yes, I trust you."

"Good," he grins, turning to the waitress without even bothering to look at the menu. "We'll have two thickshakes, one strawberry and one chocolate, and a giant serving of your cheesy fries with bacon, please."

She smiles back at him, clearly charmed, and I kind of want to poke her eyes out, but she simply replies, "No problem," and disappears in the direction of the kitchen.

Noah reaches across the table to take my hand again, as I raise my eyebrows at him.

"Cheesy fries, huh?"

"Absolutely," he nods. "They're good, you'll see."

"And you know this because..."

He shrugs. "Dad would always bring me here after I finished football camp every summer. A few weeks of no junk food and two a day practices always left me craving French fries. I think it was the salt more than anything, but they really are the best."

"And the bacon?" I grin.

"Come on, Shelly," he smirks again. "Everything's better with bacon."

"True," I laugh.

Noah gently pushes one of the glasses of water towards me with his free hand. "You should drink some of that."

"I'm already letting you feed me, isn't that enough?" I pout.

"Please. Like you really need to be convinced to eat cheesy fries."

That's true, they're one of my favorite things ever. But still.