The Missing Years - a kissing booth fan fiction

White Out

I'd meant to respond to Elle's message, I really had. But honestly when I saw it that night, I felt like I'd had the wind knocked out of me. I'd read and reread that message, analysing every word, reading far more into it than was probably there. I thought I would just sleep on it and respond the next day, with a clearer head. That way I wouldn't end up saying something stupid.

Except the next morning I was severely hungover, courtesy of the numerous rounds of tequila shots we'd all consumed in a very short period at the karaoke bar. So, after dragging my sorry ass from class to class all day, I was back in my room, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Elle's message again. On the surface it seemed just like any of the other well wishes I'd received.

Happy Birthday Noah. Yep, pretty standard stuff there.

Hope you had a fun day. I mean, in the end I had had fun, thanks to Chloe and the guys. But Elle wouldn't have known that, would she? I knew I'd been tagged in a few photos, but Elle wouldn't have seen them, right? We had both been pretty absent from social media and I was pretty sure she'd muted me. Maybe I was just reading too much into those words. I mean, she had texted me late in the night Boston-time, when my birthday was pretty much over. And people generally did something fun on their birthdays, right?

x

There it was, the thing that had thrown me the most. That one little kiss.

I knew I would see Elle at home soon for Thanksgiving, so I figured I would just wait and see what kind of vibe I got from her in person. Life apparently had other plans. It was the last game of the season and Coach had sent me on to replace the starting QB in the third quarter. We were crushing Princeton and the team was riding high. I had the ball and was looking for a receiver to throw it to. I never even saw the guy coming. I definitely felt the tackle though. I heard rather than felt my ankle snap.

I was stretchered off and assessed by the team doctor, who told me my ankle was broken - yeah no shit man - and sent off to the hospital. Two green whistles and a couple of scans later and the doctor informed me I would need surgery to repair the damage. I'd made it through all 20 years of my life suffering only a broken nose and now I was going to have surgery to repair the ligaments that had been fucked up when my ankle snapped sideways. At least it was the end of the season right? The recovery was going to take months, or so I was told.

I phoned my parents. Mom was beside herself, but I managed to convince her that she did not need to fly east to sit by my bed, especially just days before Thanksgiving. Dad sorted out the insurance paperwork with the hospital and that was that. A few hours later I was blinking awake in recovery, trying to focus on the face hovering over me. "Elle?" I mumbled. It couldn't be - she couldn't possibly be here, could she?

"Noah, Noah, can you hear me? You're in the hospital, your surgery went fine and you're in the recovery ward." The voice that was definitely not Elle said.

I was wider awake now, and hoping that my earlier mumbling had been unintelligible.

I hadn't been back in my room long when Chloe bounded in, a ridiculous bunch of balloons in hand.

"Hey, handsome. Glad to see they left your face intact."

The nurse that had been there when I woke up came back into the room and I could see she was trying not to laugh, obviously having overheard Chloe's comment. She was blonde and pretty, despite the awful green scrubs she was wearing. Hey, I was still human, even if my heart was 3000 miles away in LA.

"Hi Clo, how did you get in here?" I asked.

"I've told you before that I am a very talented individual." I laughed at that. "Seriously though, your mom put me on the approved visitor's list. She said something about how if she couldn't be here she wanted to make sure your best friend could be."