Page 18 of Begin Again
Noah blinks up at me. “In love with who?”
“Annie.” I don’t look away.
His face falls, morphing into confusion. “She’ll never go for you, man. You’re like an older brother to her,” Noah says, trying to spare my feelings.
I don’t tell him about the thousands of interactions Annie and I have had that tell me otherwise. I don’t tell him about the lingering glances or extra touches that I know make us something more than friends. I don’t say that she doesn’t see me like a brother and never has, but that the real reason she’d never go for me has nothing to do with me, it’s just how she is. But she’s my best friend, and around her I can keep my feelings at bay, because when we’re together we’re just Annie and Sam, and nothing else matters.
“I just needed you to know,” I say. “Before we do this, move to New York. I’m not doing it for you.”
I wait for him to get mad, to tell me to leave her alone. Instead, he says something worse. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
I’ve already been hurt. Nothing hurts more than loving someone who won’t fully love you back. But I can’t kick these feelings—I haven’t been able to for years. I don’t reply.
“You should date other people in New York,” he says. “Didn’t you have a girlfriend for a while?”
I nod.
“Why did you break up?” he asks. “Was it because of Annie?”
“No,” I tell him, and it’s the truth. “Chelsea loved the traveling side of our relationship but hated it when we were home. She wanted to be traveling all the time, which is not something I can do. So she ended it.”
Noah nods. “Find someone else.”
It’s not a threat because he doesn’t want me ruining his sister or whatever, which would almost feel better than this. He’s trying to spare my feelings. But I’m too far gone. My feelings have already been ripped to shreds and I’m still here, ready tobare my soul to Annie, even if I know she will never let herself want me like that.
“I’ll try,” I tell him.
Noah nods like this is the best thing I’ve said all day.
“Good.”
“Good.”
9
ANNIE
Mid August 2014 - Annie is 18, Sam is 20
“We made it!” I can’t help but jump up and down in my seat as the New York City skyline comes into view. This is really happening, I’m going to culinary school. I’m going to live in New York. I feel like Taylor Swift would be so proud. I pull out my phone to turn on “Shake it Off” which is her newest single. I have a feeling I’ll love “Welcome To New York” in a couple of months once her new album drops. But for now, this feels like a good anthem. I’m leaving behind my past—shaking it off if you will—and starting fresh.
“We made it.” Sam grins at me. We’ve spent the past several days in his truck driving across the country to get here. I’ve got one suitcase in the bed of his truck and Sam has even less. It seems weird, to leave everything behind and start a new life—together—but we’re actually doing it. “And I know you’re about to play Taylor Swift, I’ll allow it. Just this once.”
Sam has never been a huge Taylor Swift fan, which is fine as long as he doesn’t actually care if I listen to her music or not. Ilaugh and click play and the already familiar beats fill the cab of the truck. “We’re really here. I’m really doing this.”
“You sure are, sunshine,” he says from behind the wheel. Noah will be joining us in a couple of months, but Sam volunteered to drive with me out to New York so I’d be here in time for the semester to start.
Right before we left, I told my mom that I was leaving. She was mad, just like I knew she would be. For a second, my mind goes back to a few days ago.
“You can’t leave now, what will I do without you?” Mom screams as I throw my backpack into the front seat of Sam’s truck.
“I’m going, mom,” I tell her. There isn’t anything in the world she could possibly say that would make me change my mind. I’ve been counting down the days for this moment since I was fourteen.
“But, Noah’s moving to New York too. I thought that if he ever left, at least I’d still have you.” Mom gives me an angry glare, and my insides twists. I have to say no to her. I am not going to stay for her. I hate that despite everything, all of her harsh words and insults, there is a part of me that wants to stay and take care of her—like she’s asking for.
“I got into the culinary school of my dreams, Mom, I’m going. And we’re leaving now.” I take a step back and run into Sam’s chest. His hands move to my shoulders as if to say he’s ready to back me up if he needs to.
Mom rolls her eyes. “If you would stop being so obsessed with food and having a career, you could find a nice husband and settle down here to help me out.”
