What would it take? - A Kissing Booth Fan Fiction

Thirty-seven

A/N: Sorry to keep you waiting (AGAIN), I've just really been struggling with finding time to write lately, and I've been a little indecisive about the direction I want to take with this book. Full disclosure, I usually write several different scenarios almost all the way through and then decide which works best once I get a better feel for the story at that particular point. And this one's given me some trouble. Anyway, you're not here for my waffling, hope you enjoy this chapter. Jo xx

Noah

To say my parent's reactions to the news about my early acceptance to Harvard were different would be the understatement of the year. They were both thrilled, of course, but as I continued talking, telling them that I wasn't sure I wanted to go, well... that's when things changed. Not for the worse, necessarily, they just each have a certain way of dealing with stuff. Mom wanted to talk it out, and we did, for ages. The problem was, I just didn't know the answer. I still don't.

Dad sat back, listening, his mouth pressed in a line like it was the only thing stopping him from jumping in and giving his own opinion. I knew he was trying to let me work it out for myself and I appreciated that, more than I could express, that he wasn't trying to force me into going, even though I'm sure that's what he wants for me. And I get it. I mean, what parent wouldn't want their kid to accept a position at an ivy league school? But he stayed silent, letting Mom and I go round and round, up and down, back and forth.

Until over an hour had gone by and we were still no closer to a decision. At that point, he cleared his throat and sat forward more, re-engaging with the conversation. I hate to admit it, but I braced myself for what he was going to say, while actually hoping he might have the magic answer, because it was becoming abundantly clear that I sure as hell didn't.

"Noah, I realize how big of a decision this is, okay?" he said quietly, forehead creased as he looked at me with a serious, but still calm expression. "But I think that maybe part of the reason why you're having such a hard time making it is because Harvard doesn't seem real to you right now. It's an unknown, an abstract concept that only exists for you in your own head. Whereas this," he gestured the living room, "home, LA, us, Elle, we're all real to you. A known quantity. I don't think it's fair to expect you to make a decision without all the information, son."

Mom's expression was as puzzled as I'm sure my own was at that point, and she arched a brow at him in question.

"So, what are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting..." Dad reached over to squeeze her knee, before looking back at me. "That maybe we need to take a trip to Boston."

I don't know what I'd been expecting, but it wasn't that.

"We?" I asked. "As in, you and me?"

"Well, we could all go," Dad smiled. "But something tells me that Lee wouldn't love being dragged cross-country. Plus, it'd have to be soon, with you having to respond by the Friday after this one. So this weekend would make sense, but..."

"That rules me out, I'm afraid," Mom grimaced apologetically. "I have open houses on Saturday. Looks like it's just the two of you."

I didn't miss her overly happy tone at the end there, and it made me narrow my eyes at her slightly in suspicion. But, as per usual, Mom deflected with a bright smile and a swift change of topic.

"This is a great plan, Matt. You should see if there are any campus tours available on Friday or Monday and base the travel arrangements around that. I'm sure it won't be a problem for Noah to get off school for a day, particularly for this."

Both my parents smiled at me like all my problems were about to magically disappear, and that's how I ended up here, on a flight to Boston. With Dad. Just him and I (and, sure, a couple of hundred other passengers), locked inside a plane for five and half hours, as we head clear across the country to the place where I might spend the next four years of my life. That is if I can get over the feeling of dread that threatens to swamp me whenever I let myself think about leaving Elle behind in LA.