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“That you were going to ask at eighteen, yeah. People just don’t do that.” Noah still seems disgruntled, so I ask, “Can I make a request?”
“For what?” His voice is gruff as he tries to hide his curiosity.
“If you ever ask—”
“When I ask,” he corrects.
“When you ask, ask with that ring.”
He frowns. “What? No. I can do better than that, and you deserve better.”
I shake my head. “I want that one.”
“But why?” he asks, genuinely confused.
I take the box from him, retrieve the ring box, and set the shoe box back onto the shelf before facing him. “Because I love you just as much now as I did then, if not more. I especially loved what you did on your eighteenth birthday.” I trace my name over his chest. “There is nothing I’d love more than to think about our history when I eventually wear it.”
Noah thinks about it for a moment. “People are going to think I’m cheap when they see you wear it.”
“I don’t care. We’ll both know differently, and we’re the only ones who matter.”
“It’s really what you want?”
“Yes.”
He nods. “Okay.”
I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We shower and get ready before eating breakfast with his parents. More than ever, I’m certain that I need to tell him what happened. Who knows when he’ll decide to propose, but I can’t let him do that until my past no longer haunts me.
Noah’s mom is civil toward me. I wish I could say friendly, but I know there are reservations about me underneath all of her statements, so civil seems more fitting. She’ll come around. Carol loves Noah too much to hold onto a grudge against me for too long because at a certain point, it could start affecting their relationship. She wouldn’t let it get that far.
I wish I could say the same for Erica. I’ve realized that I’m not forgetting things; she leaves things out or says the wrong things on purpose, so she has a reason to essentially call me a dumbass. I’ve learned the routine by now, though. I’m able to have everything out, even things she may not use, just to save myself from hearing her bitch about how she told me to get it out when she probably didn’t. The only thing I love about my job is working with the girls. Kira, mostly.
“If you keep this up,” I tell her, “you might be able to play in a game in a few weeks.” Practice officially ended two hours ago, but Kira and Ginny stayed to rally with me and get pointers. Ginny isn’t on the team, though she should be. She’s Kira’s best friend, a good tennis player, too, but she refuses to be on a team with Carrie, one of the girls who has a mean streak in her.
I should be heading home to get ready for Noah’s game, but I can’t leave until they’re ready, not when they’re both trying to improve their skills.
“Really?” Kira asks with surprise, which causes her to miss the shot I just returned. “Do you think Coach Erica would actually let me?”
“If you have the skills, I don’t see why not.”
“What is her issue with you anyway?” Ginny asks, jogging up to the net to be closer.
“What are you talking about?” I feign obliviousness.
“Oh, come on,” Kira says. “Everyone sees how short she is with you.”
I hesitate. “I don’t think that’s something we should discuss.”
“Word is you stole her boyfriend,” Ginny pushes the issue.
Gah. I knew there was a reason I hated high school. “Who said that?”
“We overheard Coach Erica telling another teacher when we passed by her office one morning,” Kira sheepishly explains.
