I realized I liked him when I was seven. We were playing Mario Kart with Connor, and I was in first place, Noah had a blue shell, the kind that makes you explode and fall behind if you’re in first place. He didn’t use it for the entire lap, letting me win, while Connor kept shouting for him to use it.
He gave me a boyish grin at the time, and Connor demanded a rematch. I couldn't help but laugh at the obvious attacks Noah would send Connor’s way. It felt like he was always subtly trying to help me win or give me advantages.
Sometimes it felt like he wasmybest friend, too.
One time when we were all playing Monopoly, Connor needed one more property to win the game—the one Noah had. No matter how much money Connor offered or what kind of bribery he used, Noah didn’t budge. I jokingly asked for the card for a dollar and Noah slid it towards me with a wink.
I think that was the day I fell in love with him.
It was wrong of me to start dating Paul in hopes that he would fill a void. I held off on dating him for so long, hoping Noah would call one day and ask me out. Then one day I saw a photo of Noah surrounded by a bunch of girls at a Christmas party, so it felt like the best choice for me to try and move on. He was the opposite of Noah in every possible way and part of me felt like that was exactly what I needed.
Paul was easy to get along with, especially because we both enjoyed math and the debate team. Probably not the best basis to start a relationship, but he was charming and driven. We didn’t have much else in common, though it never felt like we needed more to bond us.
When I lost my virginity to him in college, it was nice—but a small part of me wished that it had been Noah. That cliché of your first love ran deep in me. It’s hard not to think about the guy who fills all your memories from childhood into adulthood.
Noah didn’t come home much in the first year he was away at college, and I think that made things easier for me.
I vividly remember the day that he met Paul. It was my high school graduation, and Connor and Noah had come home for the week. A promise they’d made to me when they graduated high school was that they'd both be in the crowd to watch me cross the stage when it was my turn. The two of them never broke a promise, especially where I was concerned.
I never talked about Noah to Paul, because I always worried I wouldn’t be able to hide the deeper feelings that still lingered, no matter how hard I tried to move past them.
Something shifted in our relationship that day. I don’t know if he saw the light in my eyes as Noah talked to my parents about baseball, or maybe he noticed that when Noah hugged me, I held on a little too tightly and for a bit too long.
That was the night Paul firmly asked me to go to the University of Chicago with him—it felt like he was telling me, not asking. I was already used to that tone and usuallygave in to his demands, afraid to find out what would happen if I didn’t.
At the time, I was holding off on deciding where to go to school. I had five choices—and truthfully Chicago was my last choice, but it was the only place Paul got into school.
I never told him that I applied to the University of Texas or Kansas City University; I never told anyone but my parents.
If it had been like in the movies, I would have moved to Austin, professed my “lifelong” love to Noah and we would have run off into the sunset.
But that’s not what happened, because life isn’t a movie.
I promised Paul I would make up my mind by the end of the week after Noah left. That plan went out the window the night after my graduation when Noah drunk-dialed me, something I never expected to experience—it changed everything.
I’m sitting on the front porch, trying to work on a pros and cons list of each school, when Noah calls me.
I count to three before answering, trying not to come across too eager … which is nearly impossible for me. He’s probably called me all of five times in our lives.
“Hey, No! What’s up?” I exclaim, my heart racing.
“Auddddieeee,” he slurs.
I pull my legs up under me on the front porch, with a frustrated sigh. “Noah, are you drunk right now?”
“Ye-yeah.”
“Where are you? Are you safe?” I ask, worry seeping into my voice. I know he had been with Connor, but Connor got home almost an hour ago. “Do you need me to come get you?”
“Where are you going to school in the fall?”
Weird segway, but okay.
I don’t know if it’s because I hope he’ll be too drunk and forget the conversation in the morning or if having him back in town for a week is throwing me off, but I ask, “Where do you want me to go?”
Please say Texas.
“Not with me. Don’t come to Austin.” His tone is pleading and it feels like a gentle stab to the heart.
