Page 81 of Remember Us This Way

“My shin doesn’t accept your apology,” she throws back at him, fixing him with a glare that could bring the most vicious armies to their knees.

I hold back a grin as I meet Noah’s stare across the table, his dark eyes shimmering with laughter, and that’s all my control can handle before I burst out laughing right along with him. Hazel huffs and puffs and crosses her arms over her chest.

We get side-eyed from the parents, my dad’s eyes lingering on us the longest. I hold his concerned stare, narrowing my gaze to let him know that I’ve caught him, but he doesn’t look away.

I know what he’s thinking. His little girl is growing up, and she’s putting herself in a position to get her heart broken again. Or maybe he’s just realized that we’ve been together for a while now and perhaps that’s when things might start progressing.

I shake the thought from my head. I can’t think about the idea that my dad might be concerned his daughter is ready to have sex. The thought sends an uncomfortable shiver sailing down my spine. But then, if I was right in my first thought, that maybe he’s just worried that I could get my heart broken, then he needs to know that’s not going to happen. Noah isn’t about to take off again. He’s right where he belongs, and he knows it. The two little matching infinity tattoos we got today are proof of that. Not that my parents need to know about them. Nonetheless, to have this small symbol of what Noah and I share marked on my body for all eternity is more than I could have asked for.

My tattoo is across my ribs, barely the size of a grape, while Noah’s is directly over his heart. I told him it was cheesy to get it there, but he didn’t care. He told me that maybe he’s just a cheesy kinda guy, then he kissed me before telling me to sit down and shut up so he could get it over and done with.

Noah’s never been one for needles. He didn’t exactly have a panic attack or turn into a blubbering mess, but he went out of his comfort zone to share something with me.

I carry on with my birthday dinner but don’t really eat much. My appetite just hasn’t been great today, and after all the effort Mom and Dad have put into making tonight special, I immediately feel guilty.

I’ve heard the phrase, How many times will our precious girl turn seventeen a million times already, but it was expected. They go all out for my and Hazel’s birthdays, celebrating every single one of them to the fullest extent because they know what it feels like to wonder if their baby girl will ever see another birthday.

I force as much dinner down my throat as I can, ignoring the way Noah watches me through a suspicious, narrowed stare. “So,” Mom says, glancing our way and forcing the heat of Noah’s stare off my face. “Are you getting excited for college? Not long to go now.”

Noah nods. “Yeah. Just need to get through a few more months of classes until graduation.”

Aunt Maya sends a smirk his way. “How on earth are you two going to survive being apart from each other like that?” she teases.

“We’ll be fine,” I say, rolling my eyes, but honestly, the closer we get to the end of the school term, the more anxious I become about it. I’ve tried to be confident and hide my worries. After everything Noah has been through already, I refuse to make him feel bad for having to go away, but the cracks in my resolve are starting to show.

The rest of dinner passes slowly, and even though my mood plummets, I force a smile across my face as Mom and Dad insist on singing “Happy Birthday” to me over a big cake. But all I can think about is the distance.

Two hours. Two light-years away.

It’s the mantra that’s been on repeat in my head ever since Noah’s championship game, and every single time, it darkens my soul just a little bit more. In the grand scheme of things, it’s only a year, and I’ll still see him as often as I can, but over the past six months, he’s stormed back into my life in such an intense way that I no longer know how to breathe without him.

We sit in the den watching The Notebook on Dad’s prized flat-screen TV. It’s way too big to be considered normal, but he couldn’t resist getting one. Though, part of me wonders if he only bought it because a guy at his work got one and wouldn’t stop boasting about it.

The movie plays, but as I watch the characters’ hearts break, I don’t take any of it in.

“What was that?” Noah asks, pulling me into his side, his lips brushing over my temple.

“Huh?”

“At dinner. One mention of college and you disappeared.”

“It’s nothing,” I say, looking up and forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”

“Out with it, Zo,” he says. “You don’t think I’ve noticed how anxious you’ve been getting and the bullshit ‘We’ll be fine’ responses you keep giving everyone who asks? What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“Don’t,” I say, having to look away to hide my tears.

“No way,” he says, grabbing my chin and forcing my gaze back to his, his brows furrowing as he sees my glassy eyes. “This is fucking killing me. Let me in, Zo. Do you not think we’ll be okay?”

“No,” I say, throwing myself off the couch and hastily wiping my eyes, immediately pacing through the den as he watches me silently. I start feeling lightheaded, but I ignore it, needing to share this with him. “It’s nothing like that. Of course we’ll be fine. It’s just . . . I’m scared, okay? I’m terrified of how much it’s going to hurt while you’re away.”

“Zo,” he murmurs, inching toward the edge of the couch as though he’s about to reach out and pull me back into his arms, but I move further away, needing just a bit of space. Otherwise, I’ll never get the words out.

My head spins, and an instant headache booms in my skull. “Don’t try to give me a pep talk now,” I tell him, sensing it coming. “I know we’ll be fine, and in a year when I’m there with you, this whole conversation will feel ridiculous. Despite knowing that you’ll call me every day, and I’ll still be part of your world, I know what it feels like to be away from you, how bad it hurts when I can’t just reach out and hold you when I’m having a shit day.”

My head really pounds, and I stop pacing, swaying a little on my feet.

“Zo?” he questions.

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