Birthday Flowers | The Kissing Booth

25. The Longest Week

(Noah)

She's trying to kill me. I was in agreement with taking things slowly, and I can't deny we've done a better job of talking this weekend than we did in October. But I did not agree to this. To Shelly leaping at me minutes before she abandons me for two very long, very lonely weeks. She's lost her mind and apparently she's intent on making sure I go crazy, too.

"Two weeks," she says, before tormenting me with another reminder of everything we are now going to have to wait for. She finally breaks for air but I keep her close, leaning my forehead against hers.

"You will be the death of me, Elle Evans."

"We got through a year of a much greater distance between us, and much longer waits between visits." Elle reminds me.

"We did. But  back then you would do this within five minutes of arriving, not wait until five minutes before leaving."

Her reaction is somewhere between a giggle and a sigh. "A lot is different right now."

An understatement if ever I heard one. My hands have settled back down at her waist after venturing dangerously high in our initial madness, so I am acutely aware of the most significant of those changes.

"And I'm not sorry I waited." Elle continues. "We managed a lot this weekend. A lot of necessary discussions that might not have happened if we'd been distracted."

"I'm not sorry either. And pay no attention to my grumbling. Five minutes before you leave is better than not at all. Even if I am tempted to follow you into that plane and call in sick tomorrow."

Elle closes her eyes and doesn't respond immediately. Finally, quietly, she does. "I don't want to go because when I'm with you I know we're going to work all this out."

Now I'm definitely considering following her home and just not coming back. Not if she needs me there to trust this. "And when I'm not there?"

"It's... more overwhelming. I overthink everything."

"So don't. Only think about the important part."

"Which is?"

"This. Us. Our repeated failure to get even the slightest bit over each other."

"We're really bad at getting over each other. We should stop trying." The words are joking, but her tone is entirely earnest.

"I'm already done trying. Very, extremely done. I love you, Elle. That's not new, I've just been terrible about admitting it these past few years."

"I made it kind of hard when I ran away." She whispers.

"Stop. We said we were done with that conversation. You're here now. I'm here now. And I love you." And I'm going to keep saying it until she trusts it.

Elle sits back slightly to look at me, resting her hands at my shoulders. "Me too. I mean - I love you, too. Still. I never stopped."

I watch her eyes fill with tears, and she buries her head against me again.

"Argh. It's the ridiculous crying again. I'm not sad. I am the opposite of sad." She mutters into my shoulder.

I can't help but laugh at her frustration with herself. "I know, Elle." And I don't mind at all, because she's not the only one tearing up, and I don't have the excuse she does.

We linger in this moment another minute before I give in and acknowledge the truth told by the dashboard clock. "Come on, we've got to get you to your flight. Go have dinner with your dad, then go home and call me and I'll tell you again. And the next time you feel overwhelmed, call me then too, and I'll keep telling you."