1 6 - N O A H

"I don't believe we've formally met," Chance's mom says, shaking my hand. "Please call me Veronica. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Veronica," I say, smiling faintly. It's all I can muster at this point; I'm so nervous that I feel like fainting.

"And I'm Robbie!" Chance's dad interjects, sticking his hand out.

"Noah," I say back, shaking his hand. "Thank you for having me over."

"It's no problem at all!" his mom exclaims. "Sorry we don't have anything fancier."

"You made more than normal," Chance says.

"Shh," she whispers. "I'm trying to make a good impression."

Chance facepalms, and I grin. "You should meet my mom," I tell her. "I think you'd get along well."

"That would be wonderful," she says. "I'll look forward to it! But for now, please come sit down. I wouldn't want the food to get cold."

I follow Chance to the table, taking the seat beside him. My mouth waters as I stare at the food—it all looks so good, and it's even more appetizing because of how hungry I am. I see Chance laughing at me out of the corner of my eye.

"What?" I ask.

"You look like you're about to start drooling."

I scowl. "No, I'm not. I'm just admiring the food."

"Please help yourself," Veronica says, handing me a serving spoon. "I hope you like it!"

"I will," I assure her, taking a large helping of salad, potatoes, pasta, and meatballs. She beams as I put a spoonful of pasta in my mouth, humming at the taste.

"Where were you today?" his dad asks curiously. "I know you went out, but I didn't catch where. You were gone for a long time."

"We went to a cultural festival," Chance says, looking at me for help. "I think."

"Yeah. It was down in the convention center. It's a celebration of culture and diversity, and a whole bunch of people set up booths with activities and foods and goods from different countries."

"What'd you do?" Veronica asks.

"We got food and I failed at calligraphy," Chance says, laughing. "And Noah went mostly to talk to people."

"Talk to people?"

"Language practice," I explain. "Mainly Japanese and French today."

"Japanese?" Robbie repeats. "Have you ever lived in Japan?"

"Nope. I've never moved. I just wanted to learn it because I thought it was cool."

"He's also learning Spanish and German!" Chance says eagerly.

His mom raises her eyebrows, impressed. "That's incredible," she compliments. "I wish I was smart enough to do that. Chance, too. He always refuses to learn."

"Mom," Chance groans. "He already agreed to teach me. Stop calling me dumb."

"I never said you were dumb," she counters, grinning. "I just said you could stand to be much smarter."

"That's the same thing," he grumbles, shoveling food into his mouth.

We make small talk for the rest of dinner, his parents asking me questions and Chance telling them to stop bothering me so much. I'm glad that his parents seem to like me. Even though Chance kept telling me that they would, I still had my doubts.

I keep finding myself staring at Chance for much longer than is normally acceptable, and it makes me wonder if they know about how I feel. Or if they don't already know, then maybe they can tell. Emma knew before I knew myself, but she's also known me forever.

"Thanks for dinner," I say once everyone finishes eating. "Can I help clean up?"

Veronica and Robbie both shake their heads. "Most certainly not!" Veronica exclaims. "That would be horrible manners if we made you clean up. You and Chance can go and hang out."

"Okay," I say, taking my plate over to the counter and loading it into the dishwasher. When I see all three of them glaring at me, I put my hands up. "That's all I'm going to do, I promise."

"Do you want to go up to my room?" Chance asks me. "It's pretty boring and it's full of boxes, but if you stay down here, you'll probably get roped into playing boring board games."

"Sure," I agree, curious to see his room, even though I know not to expect much. "We can put your owl there, too. Find a good place for it."

He leads me up the stairs and into the first room on the left. He was right—it really is empty and full of boxes. But I see a lump under the covers on his bed, and when I pull them back, I grin.

"A teddy bear?" I ask, smirking.

"Shut up," he mumbles, casting his eyes towards the ground as a small blush appears on his face.

"What's its name?"

"Not telling."

"Aww, come on. That's no fun."

"Nope."

"Please?"

"No way," he says adamantly, sitting down on the bed next to me. Resting his head on my shoulder, he continues, "You'd never let me live it down."

"That just makes me even more curious," I say, trying to sound confident, but the way his head rests on my shoulder makes my heart race, and it's all I can do to keep my voice steady, let alone collected and confident.

"Are you okay?" he asks, turning his head slightly to look up at my face. I swallow, trying to ignore the way his eyelashes flutter and the way his eyes sparkle.

"Yeah," I say, but I push him away. His lips morph into a frown.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

I quickly shake my head. "No, not at all. But I don't want to end up doing something that makes you uncomfortable."

"Like what?"

I really don't want to say, but since he's always so honest, I figure he can't really be that offended. I'll just end up embarrassed. "I really want to do more. Like hug you and play with your hair and maybe kiss you," I whisper. "But I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"But what if it wouldn't make me uncomfortable?"

I inhale sharply, his words taking me by surprise. He'd seemed somewhat taken aback earlier when I'd asked if I could hold his hand, so I never expected this. "Are you serious?"

He looks away, his face flushing again. He's been getting flustered more easily lately, I've noticed, but I've been trying not to let myself read into it too much. Trying not to let myself get too hopeful. "I think so, yeah. I want to try."

"Does that mean...?"

"I think so, yeah. I—I think I like you."

I can't see his face right away, but when he turns to face me, I think I understand why he wasn't looking at me before—his cheeks are bright red, and his eyes are darting around anxiously. Why he's anxious, though, I'm not sure. He already knows that I like him, so I would think that he shouldn't have anything to be insecure about. A smile breaks out on my face, so wide that it hurts my cheeks, and despite his shyness, he mirrors my smile.

I watch his face for any signs of doubt or discomfort as I tug him into my lap, wrapping one hand around his shoulders and pulling his back against my chest. With my other hand, I play with his hair, twirling it around and running my hands through it. I've wanted to do this ever since he did it to me when I was sick, but I haven't had a good reason, especially since I've been trying to be careful around him so that I don't make him uncomfortable.

He sighs contentedly, adjusting his position slightly. I can feel his heart racing, and I'm sure he can feel mine too. It makes the moment even more fragile but all the more meaningful as well, especially as I spot his blazing red cheeks when I rest my chin on his shoulder.

"Is this okay?" I whisper. He nods. I hug him more tightly, trying to memorize how it feels to have him close, to hold him. To have him lean into my touches. Because maybe if I can memorize this, I won't want to hug him quite as often—which is to say, almost every single waking moment. Though if I'm being honest with myself, this will probably just make me want to hug him more.

We're still in that position a few minutes later, just basking in each other's company, when his mom walks in. "Oh!" she exclaims, backing out of the room. "I'm terribly sorry, I hope I wasn't interrupting anything—"

"It's fine, Mom," Chance says, yawning and stretching a little but not moving out of my hold. That honestly surprises me a little bit; I would've thought that he'd jump away or something. "What were you going to say?"

"I was going to ask if you boys wanted dessert, but..."

Chance looks up at me. "Do you want dessert?"

I shrug. "Sure, if it's okay."

"Okay, we'll be right down," he tells his mom. I hear her breathe a sigh of relief as she exits the room.

"Will she be mad?" I ask Chance. He shakes his head, his hair tickling my chin.

"No, she'll be fine. It was just kind of awkward. She's not that good at dealing with awkward situations. She tends to run away from them."

"That's good. Hey, are we..."

"Yeah?" he encourages.

"Are we dating?" I blurt out, blurring the words together into an almost unintelligible mumble. It's such an awkward question to ask, but it seems almost as awkward not to ask at this point. I don't want to be in that awkward space of trying not to assume too much, of not knowing exactly where we stand.

He smiles. "I hope so."

"Good." I pinch myself. "Oh my gosh, I never thought this would happen. This is real, right?"

He nods. "Yeah, I hope so." He grabs my arm and places it gently back down by my side, standing up. I pout at the loss of warmth, and he smiles apologetically. "We should probably go downstairs, or else my mom will complain."

I sigh. "Fine. But I'm coming back for more later."

"Good," he replies, flashing me a shy smile. It's weird to see him look that shy, because he wasn't quite this shy at the beginning. Before, his shyness came in short bursts, but now, he seems shy all the time. But I can't say I mind, not that much—I love this side of him. The blush that comes along with his smile is going to kill me sooner or later, I swear.

He takes my hand, the bashful smile never leaving his face. Then, he tugs me up into a standing position, but he tugs a little too hard, and I end up losing my balance and falling into the wall.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry," he gushes, pulling me back upright. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I assure him as I pull him into another quick hug. Just because I can. "I'm more than okay. We should probably go down now."

"Sure," he agrees. "But you'll have to let go of me first."

"Aww," I comment. "Fine."

We make our way down the stairs, trying and failing not to giggle. I'm in one of those moods where laughter lurks just below the surface and looking at anything will cause it to burst out. Everything is funny right now. An old stain on the wall makes me laugh, even though there's nothing remotely funny about it. The way the stairs creak, too, send a bout of giggles flying out of my mouth. And just when I think I'm finally calm again, Chance and I make eye contact, sending the both of us spiraling out of control.

"Vanilla or chocolate?" Veronica asks me as we enter the kitchen, smiling faintly when she sees us laughing.

"Chocolate, please," I say, a little nervous from the way her gaze is trained on our joined hands. Chance sighs.

"You can ask, mom," he says reluctantly. "Though the answer is pretty obvious."

"Are you dating?" she asks anyway, making Chance groan.

"Yeah," I answer for him, a little overwhelmed with how strange it feels to say it out loud. "We are."

"Since when?"

Chance laughs awkwardly, one of those laughs that starts off too loud and trails off far too quickly. "Five minutes ago?"

"Aha!" she exclaims. "I knew I was interrupting something!"

"You weren't," Chance counters. "Not when you walked in. It happened after. Kind of."

"Close enough," she says. Then she turns to me. "Now I really have to meet your mom. I can't not know the parents of my son's boyfriend."

I choke on my own spit, coughing until my eyes water. Chance looks just as flustered as I do, but he doesn't succumb to a coughing fit like I do.

"Aww," Veronica coos, pinching Chance's cheeks. "Look at you, getting all flustered. I've finally figured out a good way to embarrass you!"

"Shut up," he grumbles.

"Robbie!"

"Yes?" he calls from another room.

"You should come over here and see Chance and Noah all flustered! It's adorable!"

"What'd you do?" he asks, lowering his voice to a normal level as he walks into the room.

"I called Noah Chance's boyfriend after they admitted they were dating. And then they both nearly died."

"Noah nearly died," Chance corrects. "I didn't."

I pout. "I didn't almost die. I just choked a little."

"Hm," Robbie hums, looking me up and down. "Do you like bad jokes?"

I blink. "Excuse me?"

"Do you like bad jokes?" he repeats.

Once the shock from the unexpected question wears off, I grin. "Yes, I love bad jokes. They're the best kind."

He nods in satisfaction. "Good. Welcome to the family. What's your favorite bad joke?"

I only have to think for a minute before I respond. "My dad tells this one all the time. Where does the general keep his armies?" I ask.

"Where?"

"In his sleevies!" I exclaim, letting out a small and involuntary chuckle. I'm totally a sucker for horrible jokes. But that's nothing compared to Robbie, who howls with laughter, smacking his knee and wiping his face dry of the tears leaking out of his eyes.

"Sorry," Chance whispers under his breath. "He takes liking bad jokes to a whole new level."

I shake my head. "It's kind of funny. I like it."

Robbie finally calms down. "I approve," he tells Chance. "You've found a good one." He turns to me. "I like you. You should come around for dinner more often."

"I'll try!" I'm having a hard time wiping the grin off my face, overjoyed by the fact that his parents both like me. Which, again, is exactly what Chance told me would happen. But still. When he told me that, he didn't know his parents were going to find out we were dating. Because we weren't dating yet.

It still feels surreal that he agreed to date me, that he said he likes me. Heck, it still feels weird admitting that I like him. The last time I liked someone was in sixth grade, and this goes far beyond what I ever felt then. I'm pretty sure I only liked that girl because she gave me snacks and lent me pencils. Sixth grade me was shallow. I also liked a boy in fourth grade because he said he liked my rock collection. But what can I say? I was a stupid child.

This is different, though. I'm not in love with him yet, obviously, but this goes far beyond those shallow crushes that were basically just admiration that I had when I was little. This is something that I want to last, something that I want to invest in. Something that I would be lost without.

When Chance asks me if watching a movie is okay, I can only nod, even though I don't particularly like movies. Because even if I liked movies, it's not like I'd be able to focus with him sitting next to me. Not after what happened upstairs. Not with his words from earlier still echoing through my head.

"Do you want to stay the night?" Chance murmurs as he yanks me over to the couch. "I'm sure my parents won't mind, and if we're just starting a movie now, it's probably going to turn into a late night. You might as well stay over."

"Are you sure? I don't want to bother you."

"Please?" he asks, smiling sweetly. "I want you to. It won't be a bother at all."

"Okay," I agree, not finding it hard at all to cave in. Because I really want to stay over, too. I get that we've made our relationship official, but it still feels fragile, as if it could slip through my fingertips at any moment.

I don't want to leave his side in case this is somehow all a dream. I'm afraid that I'll go home, show up tomorrow, and he'll have forgotten all about it. I know that it won't happen, that it's an irrational fear, but it still terrifies me enough to make me clingy.

I don't think Chance minds my clinginess much, though. He lets out a contented sigh as I curl up on the couch next to him and snuggle into his side. I pull his right arm around my shoulders so that I can hold his hand, and my head rests gently on his chest. Which isn't the most comfortable position, but it makes me feel close to him.

"Hey," I whisper, looking up to meet his gaze. "Chance."

"Yeah?" he replies uncertainly, matching my quiet tone so as not to distract his parents from watching the movie.

"Can I call you Abbie?" I ask. "Not all the time, but sometimes?"

The first emotion that I see on his face is disgust, making me immediately regret my question, but then he starts looking a little more pensive. "Why?" he eventually whispers back.

"I know you hate your name," I explain quietly, "but I like it. And I don't want you to hate it forever. It's still part of you."

"Okay," he whispers. "But not in front of anyone else, okay?"

"I won't," I promise. "Abbie."

I feel him shiver against me. "It's so weird hearing that name in a nice way," he murmurs. "My mom only uses it when she's mad. But it's nice. So, thanks."

"You're welcome."

His parents both focus their attention on the TV, their eyes flickering from the screen's light, but I can tell that neither Chance nor I are focused on the movie at all. We both have our full attention on each other. And I wouldn't want it any other way.