"He's a breath of fresh air. The happiness to my sadness. The calm to my anxiety. He's an equal and opposite force, blocking me from the course of self-hatred I've been hurdling down my entire life."
◊ ◊ ◊
Mikaela Martin is almost certain quarterbac...
"Hope you're hungry," I giggle. "I have ice cream too."
Peyton's jaw drops. "I haven't had pizza in almost a week. You just saved my life."
"Thank God I made it in time," I laugh, kicking off my shoes on his doormat. "Shall we?"
"Yes!"
Peyton grabs plates and glasses of water while I store the ice cream in the freezer and set up the pizza on the kitchen table. I conquered my fear of phone calls last night to ask Denise if we could take over the kitchen for a little bit this afternoon. She loved the idea so much she actually referred to me as an angel. The Warners are seriously amazing with compliments.
"I have the funniest story to tell you," I share as we settle into our seats. A happy tingle erupts in my chest when Peyton chooses the one next to me, not across. It's like our first date as an official couple when we squeezed into a booth at Ramsey Pizza and Subs.
"I love funny stories," Peyton replies, grinning.
Halfway through the Liana tale, I realize I probably shouldn't say the word 'fart' in front of my maybe-boyfriend or while we're eating—bonus points because it's both—but Peyton isn't fazed. He laughs so hard he snorts, and we double over cracking up as I relay the part about Lizzie chiming in on Annalise's claim.
"That's awesome," he sighs when we're finally done laughing, which takes a while. The second one of us calmed down, the other would snort (Peyton) or squeak (me), sending the other into yet another fit of laughter. Somehow, eating greasy pizza with Peyton is an ab workout. It's crazy.
We keep chatting long after we're done eating. Like Sarah suggested at lunch today, I don't bring up memories or our history. I tell dumb stories from school, sharing how Annalise almost got caught calling Mr. Quentin 'Moby' this morning and giving a recap of the intense dodgeball game that took place in gym today. We talk about Peyton's progress in physical therapy and how much he likes his new tutor. Everything is positive.
When we retreat to his room to watch a movie, snuggling doesn't feel forced or artificial. It's just...normal. Natural. Because this is how our relationship is. It's bright and positive and it shines through the dark.
Our goodnight kiss feels just as natural as the snuggling. Just like before the accident, we don't want to let each other go, so goodbye is a good ten minutes.
Peyton and I are still the same people who fell in love. We still go together like peanut butter and jelly. Whatever path we take, I think it will lead to love. It doesn't matter if we have pizza in a tiny booth or at Peyton's kitchen table. Either way, he's getting to know the real Mikaela, the best version of Mikaela. Peyton pursued me and pulled out all the stops to convince me we should be together. I owe him the same.
Tonight, for the first time in a month and a half, I don't cry myself to sleep.
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Friday is movie night with real movie theater popcorn I picked up on the way to Peyton's. It's slightly stale, but it's the thought that counts. Also, stale authentic movie theater popcorn is still ten times better than the microwave stuff.
Under dimmed lights in Peyton's basement, we lounge on the couch, munch stale but delicious popcorn, and pretend we're at the movies. I tuck my head into the spot on Peyton's neck where it fits perfectly. Peyton's warm arm rests on my shoulders, and after yesterday, I'm not surprised that being so close feels totally normal and natural. Maybe because we're just enjoying our time together, like we did before the accident.
I'm living in the moment, letting gratitude roll through my mind and heart. Not only am I happy to be here with this incredible person; I'm lucky to be here. If Peyton or that truck had been driving a little faster, I could have lost him completely. Two months of memories is nothing when I look at it that way.
"Okay, so I know we can't do this at the real movies, but can we pause for a sec?" Peyton asks.
He's so cute. "Of course," I tell him.
The movie freezes, and Peyton turns his head in my direction, careful to keep his arm around me. "You're the best girlfriend in the world," he exclaims, a huge smile on his face.
I feel my cheeks heat up. I'm still his girlfriend. "Thanks, Peyton. You're the best boyfriend."
"No, seriously. You're the only person who treats me like I'm normal. Like, I know a fake movie theater isn't normal, but you aren't acting like I'm going to break any second or making me feel dumb for forgetting stuff. It's awesome. You have no idea."
'I love you' catches in my throat. Not the time, Mikaela. "You are normal," I say instead. "You're still the same person."
"No one else acts that way. I don't know. You just, like, believe in me. Like when you were saying George was wrong about me being dumb."
"They should, and yeah, he is wrong. If he thinks you're dumb—" I lower my voice and peek around, even though George almost certainly isn't in the basement with us "—then he's the dumb one."
"Can I kiss you right now?" Peyton blurts out.
Instinct wants me to tell him he doesn't have to ask, but I decide that's something he'll figure out on his own, just like he did the first time, so I shoot him a smile and say, "Yes, please."
Peyton cups my face with his hand and leans in. The kiss starts off slow, and then it deepens, and then it becomes a message. A silent message. We're telling each other how much we appreciate one another. No idea how I know that; I just do. I wrap my arms around his neck and move onto his lap, and we kiss for so long that the TV auto-shuts itself off. Only when our stomachs start growling for dinner at the same time do we break apart.
After our stomach rumbling-prompted laughter subsides, Peyton tilts his head, a confused expression suddenly on his face. "This is a weird question, but did we ever kiss like that in a parking lot?"
"Yes," I breathe.
"Really?" he exclaims.
"A couple times," I laugh.
"I saw it for just one second. It popped into my head. Like, a tiny snippet. Holy shit. Do you think that's a memory?"
"It sounds like it," I reply. "That's... Wow. Peyton, it really might be." It could be from a dream, in which case I'm flattered. But we've definitely had some make-out sessions in parking lots, so maybe it's a tiny piece coming back to him.
He tilts his head back and cracks up, slapping his knee as he snorts and tries to catch his breath. "Of course, the one thing I remember, I can't even tell my mom about," he chokes out between laughs.
That gets me. I dissolve into giggles and a snort or two. As happy as I am that he might remember a tiny piece from our past, I'm happier that he's happy.
I know we're going to be okay. I'm certain of it. Because something this natural and happy is exactly what the universe wants. If waiting two more months to hear 'I love you' is what it demands in return, I'm fine with that.
But because we're the universe's best couple, it only takes another two weeks.
