was my birthday present to him and it was tough enough to get him to agree to it, but he did only because I am leaving for a year to study painting in Colorado while he’s staying in Kentucky for college.
Tomorrow is our last day here and if he was going to ask, I bet that would be the day. He’s been talking all week about doing something special on our last night, sparing no expense, and has told me to save my special dress for that night. He’s talked about dinner, about dancing, about a long walk on the beach under the stars.
Last summer, when Noah and I went on a road trip to Colorado together, he did this a few times. Treated me to a special night out, so I didn’t question it when he brought it up, but now I can hear the audible click as the pieces fall into place.
Noah must have told everyone he was proposing early in the trip, but he must have decided to wait.
Lila draws her ponytail over her shoulder. “You wouldn’t turn him down if he didn’t have a ring, would you?”
“No.” Never. But it’d kill Noah to ask me without one. He struggles with the idea of being broke and is constantly telling me that someday he’ll be able to take care of me like I deserve. Noah doesn’t understand I’m not searching for him to take care of me as much as I want a partner. I mean, he does get it, but he doesn’t. The important part is that I love him and he loves me and someday we will officially be forever.
“I didn’t mean to spill.” Lila glances down. “I’m sorry. I assumed he had asked already and that you were keeping it from me so you guys could announce it to everyone at once.”
“I’m glad you told me. This is something I need to know. Noah’s on his way, so I’ll call you back when I get home, okay?”
“Okay. Love you.” She blows me a kiss.
I tell her I love her back and end the chat. Truth is, Noah’s on his way but not. He walks out of the convenience store and heads in my direction to pump the gas. It’s the agreement we made—he’d let me cover the trip if he bought the gas and half the meals. I agreed because I wanted this time alone with him before I left.
Noah flashes me his wicked and dangerous grin as he walks past, and those mutant pterodactyls in my stomach that exist only because of him stretch their wings.
He’s breathtakingly gorgeous. His shaggy brown hair is lighter due to our summer in the sun and his skin is deliciously tanned. While there’s still a part of Noah, especially when he smiles at me, who is the cocky kid who made fun of my name in the counselor’s office back in high school, he’s definitely no longer a teen.
Any slight baby softness he had when we first met is gone. His features are a bit fuller in his face, he’s grown another inch and he’s gained weight in pure muscle. He was already ripped, but this past year he’s become magnificent. Biceps chiseled, strong broad shoulders and his abdomen a flat hard plane. Noah is no longer a boy, but a man.
Not just physically, but emotionally, as well. Gone are the days of him working full-time as a manager at the Malt and Burger. He still works as a manager, but as part-time as he can get, just picking up extra shifts when his other job and school allow. This past spring he was offered a paid internship at an architecture firm.
He goes to class in the mornings, and in the afternoons he works in the office with a white button-down shirt and tie. He even traded in his combat boots for a pair of black dress shoes.
My bad boy, though, is still bad. He has two more tattoos than he did in high school, one on his chest and the other on his back. One is for his brothers. The other for me. I won’t lie—that tattoo is my favorite.
Noah’s nonwork and nonschool hours belong to the man I originally fell for. The guy who wears jeans that slightly sag, a black T-shirt and his combat boots once again on his feet. Noah still listens to heavy metal music a little too loud, still curses sometimes a little too much and when he’s hanging with his