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"That moment when you realize you're falling in love. And oh s hit you're not the captain of the ship no more because... he is."

Feeling like everything was brighter and colorful this morning, I hopped into the passenger side of our van.

My dad had several private tutoring classes today. His first class was close to my school so he offered to drive me this morning.

"Mrs. Lee called me last night to pick up your soup from the restaurant," my dad said, buckling his seatbelt.

I froze from buckling mine, and the warning alarm started beeping as my dad turned the ignition.

Crap.

"It slipped my mind. Thanks for picking it up," I said carefully, finally buckling my seatbelt.

"It was for Ruth," I explained. "I was going to visit her yesterday. She's still sick."

"Poor girl. Why don't you visit her today? Just get another soup because I ate hers last night."

"Good job, Dad." I paused. "I thought you and Mom were going to dinner last night?"

He hung his head for a second, scratching his unshaven cheek.

"You really should shave, Dad. I could see dust mites building homes in your beard."

He sighed, scratching it again. "I know."

"Mom's mad at you again, isn't she?"

He sniffed. "I forgot dinner. I got caught up with work."

"You're in big trouble." I shook my head. "Honestly, I don't know what she sees in you," I teased him.

He batted his eyelashes. "It couldn't be my well-proportioned gorgeous face?"

"Mrs. Dorothy's pug looks handsome compared to you. I guess it's your personality."

He winked at me. "Don't forget my pure, beautiful soul."

"Now, why didn't I think of that?"

He ruffled my hair as he parked in front of my school.

"No, Dad! Ugh."

I had spent an ungodly fifteen minutes fixing my hair into a smooth straight shiny creation and my dad just ruined everything in two seconds.

"Why are your lips shiny? Were you drinking my flaxseed oil? I told you that's for my cleanse."

I rolled my eyes. It was lip gloss. "Seriously."

"Have a good day in class, chump."

I was just going to kiss his cheek when I noticed his face was pale, with dark circles under his eyes.

"Are you feeling okay, Dad?"

"Just tired. Must be from the master cleanse."

"Well, when was your last physical?"

His shoulders sagged, his bottom lip protruded and his eyes looked up in the ceiling in such a comical way I started laughing. "Please, not you too. I've had enough of your mom nagging me. You're supposed to be on my side."

"I am. Love you. Bye."

When I entered my class with Noah, my eyes automatically scanned the room.

There was a palpable sense of disappointment when I didn't see him sitting in his spot.

Ever since I met him, I always had this feeling that he was going to leave. Even before he told me about his plans and how much he hated this town.

The truth was I was scared that he would just disappear without saying goodbye.

This was not healthy. I was way more into him than he was into me.

Ya think?

Maybe he wasn't even into me. Maybe he just wanted to be friends.

But last night...

I knew girls were supposed to have a built-in radar when it comes to guys who like them or try to flirt with them.

I was pretty sure mine was broken.

When I heard someone clear their throat behind me, I spun around.

"Hey, Legs."

My hand clutched at my chest.

"They're super weak right now."

What even... ohmygod, girl.

A look of confusion covered his eyes. In the sunlight, the pale and darker blue specks around his pupil were mesmerizing.

I cleared my throat, blushing. "I mean we have to go inside right now. The class is starting."

I proceeded inside without looking at him. When he took the chair next to me, something settled and calmed inside me.

When before there was a feeling of unease mixed with the excitement when he was near, now there was a sense of closeness, something shared between two people.

Last night had changed something between us.

I felt like I knew him a little more than before now.

Mr. Layton strode inside the classroom, his face in a dark scowl. He was clutching his phone rather hard in his fist.

"Listen up, children! Pick a partner. Preferably your seatmate. In thirty minutes, I want you to talk about your plans after graduation. Your goals, dreams. Whatever you think is in store for you out there after high school. Then after that, write an essay about it. I expect a full page of your dreams and goals at the end of class."

And with his phone plastered against his ear, Mr. Layton walked out of the classroom.

Feeling self-conscious, I rummaged in my backpack for a minute, pretending to look for my pen and notebook when I knew where they were exactly. But Noah didn't know that.

I could feel his stare. I knew I was red. My face felt hot.

"What are you looking for?" he asked. "I've got an extra pen if you can't find yours."

"I have—" I cut myself off. "Yes, please."

You obsessed, girl. You're holding your perfectly purple ink pen in your hand.

Shh!

He placed his pen on my table. "Paper?" he asked, amused.

"No." I pulled out my notebook, brandishing it in his face.

Something fell and made a noise as it hit the floor.

We both looked down.

It was my pen.

The pen I was supposed to not have.

Crapfreakcrap.

This is the perfect moment for you to go back to your planet.

I couldn't look him in the eye.

He bent down and picked it up, straightened in his seat. When he didn't say anything after a few moments, I took a peek at him.

He was already writing on his paper. With my pen.

"Since you have mine, I'm keeping yours," he said. There was a secret smile on his lips.

My fragile heart.

I wanted to fan my hands on my face. I wanted to cool off.

"It's so hot in here," I blurted.

"Is it?" I could hear the smile in his voice.

It made me more embarrassed. What was he thinking?

He ripped a page from his sketchpad, storing it back in his backpack before he flattened the ripped page on the table. "You want to start?"

"Um..."

I still couldn't look at him, but I could see in my peripheral vision that he had leaned forward, propping his arms on his table. I also knew that he had turned his head to look at me.

"Let me guess," he teased, "you want to have a family. Two kids. A girl and a boy. Buy a house near your parents' place. White picket fence."

Amused, I finally looked at him. His black hair looked so soft and silky on his forehead. It was so dark that it made his electric blue eyes seem lavender.

"Where were you, Legs?"

I blinked.

Even my snarky subconscious disappeared. Probably silenced from the beauty that was in front of me.

"You forgot about the dog and the tire swing in the tree," I teased.

His eyes gleamed with humor. "Was I right, then?"

I shook my head. "Is that what you think of me? A cliche?"

His eyes lowered to his paper. "It might be a cliche, but don't dismiss it so heedlessly. To some people it's a dream."

There was a sadness in the way he said it. And I wondered if he was thinking about his mom.

"It's a good dream."

He looked up, his eyes curious. "What's yours then?"

I shrugged. I had to admit that I felt deeply disconcerted thinking about my future. I was still undecided.

He waited patiently.

He seemed to have a bottomless well of patience when he had a mind to.

"I don't know," I answered truthfully, opening my notebook to an empty page. "My mom wants me to go to college."

"Is that what you want?" he prompted when I didn't continue.

"Not exactly," I hesitated. "I'm not sure."

I folded the ends of my paper, still refusing to look at him. When it seemed that he wasn't going to continue, I looked up.

He was smiling. "Let me know when you figure it out."

I smiled back.

He wasn't going to press and I felt relieved.

"What about you?" I turned to him. "What's yours?"

He shrugged. "I want to paint."

"Come on. You have to give me more than that."

He raised his brows.

I gave him a sheepish smile. "I know I didn't give you much, but I really haven't figured out what I want yet. I know you have."

He leaned back in his seat, sprawled really. His long legs bent at the knees but relaxed, his arms on top of his thighs. He played with my pen, flipping it over and over with his fingers before he replied, "I don't know if I should allow myself to dream more than that."

"That's absurd!" I disagreed adamantly. "I've seen your sketches, your paintings at the school. They speak of your dreams. You told me you paint emotions. And you've succeeded. I feel them every time I look at your work."

There was something in the way his eyes were regarding me intensely, an emotion I couldn't fully decipher.

Gratitude, maybe. Happiness. A touch of melancholy.

Whatever it was, it made me want to reach out for his hand.

I didn't.

He cleared his throat. "Don't change, Parker," he smiled. "You're rare in my world."

Something was forming inside my chest, closing up my throat.

What is this?

"Thank you, Noah."

I took a deep calming breath.

Another one.

And another.

"You won't get off that easily," I finally said when my heart had settled. Tell me more or I'll report you to Mr. Layton."

"Resorting to threats, are we?"

Giddy. I felt giddy.
Was Noah really talking to me as though...
as though
maybe
just maybe
he likes me.

I mean as a person.

"I have a black heart," I told him.

The heaviness in the air that surrounded us earlier was dissipating.

One side of his mouth lifted up into a crooked smile. "When I draw you next time, shall I give you black wings then?"

Next time...

"And horns," I said breathlessly.

My jaw. It hurt from smiling too wide.

I looked at him expectantly.

His eyes took a careful peek at me, and I noticed his long lashes were casting shadows on his cheeks.

"I'd like to visit Paris one day," he began. "Maybe study there if I can afford it. Learn from different artists, visit galleries —see the paintings for myself."

I could hear the deep longing in his voice, the hope, and the way he tried to masked it.

"I want to walk the streets were the greatest painters before my time walked, where they created. I want to see what they saw, what inspired them.

"I want to go to Ireland. See the ruins there. The play of light and shadows against ancient stones. The magic they say you can find there."

He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as if he was already there. When he opened them, the blue in them had calmed.

"It's such a big world," he continued. "We're just in a very small part of it. There is so much to see. I want to experience it all. To be free."

He had pulled me in.

Hook, line and sinker.

I had no chance.

I was decimated.

"Will you.." I choked. "Will you say goodbye before you leave?"

He looked at me for a moment while I held my breath, waiting for his answer.

He was just about to when Mr. Layton came back in the room, demanding that we start our papers.

The class ended without Noah giving me an answer.

A/N: Any suggestions what should be Noah and Parker's ship name?

Are there any songs that remind you of Noah and Parker?

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