One month in and Nolan and I were still neck deep in the honeymoon phase. That was unheard of for me. The thrill of a new relationship usually fizzled out in week two. Not with Nolan. Every day with him the spark felt new.
It was one month of sneaking off to the creek where we claimed to be studying and did everything but. One month of texting until the sun came up and meeting for coffee before school. One month of group dates with Bee and Gia and Candy and Justin to movies, bowling and go carts. One month of highly competitive games of Uno! with the Chambers and lounging on my couch because Mom refused to let Nolan upstairs.
One month of so many emotions bubbling inside me I had no choice but to let them out on a canvas. Paintings of sunsets and faces and dried up creeks were quickly piling up in the garage.
Each painting felt like a diary entry, filled with memories and secrets. Secrets I was too afraid to admit out loud. Secrets only I could decipher. And maybe Nolan if he looked hard enough.
I knew that Nolan was different from past guys I've dateânone of them even compared. Still, I was amazed at how different he was. How different he made me feel. It was uncharted territory and I loved exploring every bit of it.
Now, we sat out in my front yard on a blanket to enjoy the unseasonably warm February weather and to bore ourselves with homework.
I was propped up against the tree with Nolan's head in my lap. He held Hamlet over his face, squinting at the text as he rambled on in old English.
"To die, to sleep. To sleep, perchance to dreamâay, there's the rub, for in that sleep of death what dreams may come..." He dropped the book his chest, peering up at me. "Why did Shakespeare write in riddles? Better yet, why do I have to decipher them? When will it ever be relevant to my life?"
The frustration on his face was adorable. "When it's on the test Thursday."
"Okay, but after that?"
I picked up his blank worksheet, dangling it in his face. "When you repeat the twelfth grade and have to take the test again."
"And you'll be right there with me. Have you even started the reading?"
"No," I admitted. "But I'm not one bad grade away from flunking the class."
He playfully rolled his eyes. "You say that like you're a straight A student."
"I'm very happy with my B's, thank you," I declared proudly.
"So am I."
Confused, I looked down at him to see that he was staring at my chest with a smirk. I picked up his book and whacked him on the forehead with it.
"Why are you such a pervert?" I said, giggling.
"Side effect of having such a hot girlfriend."
Now I rolled my eyes. "I'm starting to miss the days when all you did was grunt and tell me to go away."
"I don't." The sincerity on his face, in his voice, took me by surprise.
I leaned down, catching his lips with mine. His hand slid behind my neck to pull me closer and deepen the kiss. We were interrupted by Ms. Coleman's yappy new puppy who stood at the edge of the yard, fighting with its leash to get to us. Ms. Coleman didn't even attempt to hide the fact that she was staring.
"Kids today have no shame. Groping each other in public," she grumbled loudly to herself. She continued talking to herself, or maybe to her dog as they resumed their walk to the mailbox. "My mama would've had my ass."
"She must be lonely," Nolan commented as soon as she was out of earshot.
"Her husband died about two years ago. She barely leaves the house now," I told him, absentmindedly tracing the outline of his jaw with my finger. "Can I ask you something?"
"Yes, you can continue to grope me."
I smacked his shoulder, unable to hold back my laughter. "I'm serious, Nolan. It's kind of personal."
Alright." He sat up so we were face to face and placed his elbows on his knees. "What's up?"
"Well, from what you've told me you had a relatively normal social life up until ninth grade," I started, nervously ripping blades of grass from the yard. "So, what happened? Why'd you close yourself off to everyone?"
For a moment he said nothing, his eyes fixated on his hands. I thought I had over stepped. Before I could take it back, he spoke.
"Not everyone. Just the people I had to see every day. The ones I had to sit next to in class for an hour," he admitted, finally looking up at me. "I hated the looks I would get. The way people treated me like some charity case because of my mom being sick."
"I thought she was only diagnosed last year?"
"She's had it once before. Diagnosed right before ninth grade," he told me, running a hand through his hair. "Watching her go through chemo was brutal. School was the only place I could forget about it. But somehow Nick found out and told everyone. And, I don't know, not talking was easier than having some well-meaning idiot try to relate by telling me stories about their dead grandparents or pets."
Nick. Why am I even surprised by that? "Why were you ever friends with him?"
He laughed. "No idea. But after that I was done with him. It helped that he switched schools after our fight."
"Wait, you're the person he had a fight with before he transferred?"
He nodded. "The only reason I didn't receive the same punishment was because I was 'acting out because of his ill mother'."
Wow. I didn't know what I'd do if I was constantly reminded of the worst thing that had ever happened to my family by people who thought they were helping. I'd probably avoid them as well.
"What about now? You're not still getting those looks, are you?"
"Nope," he replied, a slight grin on his face. "But, honestly, I don't really care how other people are looking at me. Just you."
I smiled back, a fluttering in my stomach too distracting for me to form words.
"That's right," he said as he laid his head back in my lap, picking up his book and tried to find the page he left off on. "I know you've been checking me out in woodshop."
"Side effect of having a boyfriend who looks really hot in safety goggles and a manbun."
He grabbed my hand and planted a kiss on the back of it, holding while he went back to reading his book.
* * *
After Nolan left and Mom got off work, bringing Taylor home from daycare, the three of us sat down for dinner of chicken and rice. The haphazard way Taylor shoved food in her mouth worried me. She only had like four teeth. How was she not choking?
"Have you picked out a prom dress yet?" Mom asked from her side of the table. She was still in her work clothes, her hair pressed and styled into a low bun.
"It's February," I pointed out. "Prom isn't until May."
"Exactly! You have to get a head start on it so you can find the perfect dress and have it altered if needed," she said. The excitement on her face was new to me. I couldn't remember the last time she looked so happy. "Or do you want to go the custom route? One of my co-workers has a son who makes these really gorgeous gowns."
I pushed rice around on my plate as I thought about it. "Can we afford a custom dress? I mean, do you want to use Dad's money for something like that?"
"It's up to you, honey. I told you before, that money is more yours than it is mine."
Dress shopping with seemingly no budget was a dangerous game, but I was down to play. "Okay, maybe we can start looking this weekend."
"You want me to come with you?" She asked, genuinely surprised.
"Yeah, we haven't gone shopping together in forever," I said, growing excited about the idea. "We can make a day of it."
She smiled. "I'd like that."
* * *
I climbed into bed at ten-something, waiting for a text from Nolan. He usually texted around that time to tell me goodnight and then we'd proceeded to stay up way past our bed time.
It was approaching twelve when I gave in and texted him goodnight. Maybe he fell asleep trying to decipher Shakespeare.
Whatever the reason, it disrupted my sleep routine. It was hard not falling asleep reading one of Nolan's crazy long text threads about nothing.
Instead of sleeping I took to the canvas. Another entry to my diary of paintings. A secret that wasn't so secret to the naked eyes. A want I was painting into existence. A truth I felt long before I knew. Something I was done keeping to myself.
I was in love with Nolan Chambers and I wanted him to know.