Dear Diary,
Meet Henrietta! My fancy new pen from my equally fancy boyfriend. Doesn’t she feel nice?
Noah’s taking me out for birthday waffles today. :)
He just hopped in the shower, so I’m stealing a second to write.
Warning: I’m all mushy and sentimental today, so please bear with me.
You know how there’s a million little moments that make up your life? Like, say you accidentally smiled at a guy walking into class.
Then you chewed on his pen.
Bought him a coffee.
Failed a quiz… then another quiz.
Somehow ended up on a date.
Played his first duet with him.
Headbutted the guy, then accidentally drugged him.
Okay, that’s enough examples. You get the point.
Maybe that’s why you’re here, Diary. To help me remember those moments. The smiles. The laughs. Even the mortifying things that make me want to crawl into a hole and die.
Looking through my entries from this semester made me realize how lucky I am.
I’m no longer at risk of losing my spot in Music Theory. My scholarship is safe. Noah and I are composing our very own duet, and I almost have enough money saved to finally replace his pen.
But sweetest of all, I have someone to eat waffles with.
I owe everything to that smile,
Emma
CHAPTER36
A Shower
After packingmy diary and Henrietta away in my backpack, I rolled off Noah’s bed with a groan and arched my back into a stretch until something popped. A moan of sweet relief escaped, followed by a sigh. It’d be heavenly to stay on that cloudlike mattress for the rest of eternity.
Sounds of the shower running carried from down the hall, and I bit the inside of my cheek—tempted to join Noah.
Water conservation was important, after all.
Decision made, I rifled through the two drawers I’d taken over in Noah’s dresser and picked out a pair of shorts and a pink hoodie. Tiptoeing down the hall to the duplex’s only bathroom with a smile that felt permanently fused to my face, I briefly wondered if it was bad form to surprise someone in the shower.
What if Noah slipped and fell and I was responsible for him breaking a hip?
I paused outside the door, my hand hovering over the knob, before I decided to at least check if it was unlocked first.
I gripped the doorknob, biting my lip and turning slowly—but it didn’t budge.
A muffled voice sounded on the other side of the door, and my hand froze. Leaning in, I pressed my ear against the door and listened closely. Noah’s voice blended with the sound of the shower, but he clearly wasn’t under the spray.
Was he talking to himself?
