forever you

[three years and ten months]

The wind rustled gently in the leaves, a soft song surrounding them in its protective shield, a barrier against the city sounds, the bubbling and hustling of NYC. In the early hours of the night, the concrete jungle was bustling more than ever. Car honks, pedestrian shouts. All this lively activity seemed so distant, in this quiet patch of green amidst the forest of glass and steel. The patio was an urban haven, a few meters square tucked in the shadows of two skyscrapers. Vibrant with small trees and well-tended plants, their deep moss-colored leaves leaning languidly out of their pots, lining the patio. A silent invitation to relaxation.

Yet Noah couldn't get his muscles to loosen completely. At least his knee had stopped bouncing. Fingers fidgeting in his lap, he shot a polite smile to Siobhan's father. Mike had asked him to call him by his name, but the man of almost sixty exuded a calm and confidence that forced admiration. Respect.

"Excited for the draft?" he asked, lips stretched in a welcoming smile that hadn't left since the beginning of the dinner.

Noah nodded. Next to him, Siobhan shifted her gaze his way; he could feel it. But his eyes didn't meet hers, not even for a quick glance. His composure would not keep under her knowing stare.

"Yes. The Combine went well, so I hope a team will pick me."

"From what I've seen, chances are high you will be," Mike commented with an enthusiastic smile. His coach had speculated the same. But no amount of reassurance could calm his nerves. Until he appended his signature black against the white paper of the contract, his mind wouldn't stop playing the worst scenarios as possible outcomes.

"He will." Siobhan's voice barely carried any warmth, only the steel of determination threaded in her characteristic composure. Bas had jokingly termed it her "lawyer boss voice" when she'd been rehearsing a mock trial at their place two months ago. Better than calling it cold, she'd replied, and though she hadn't shown it, he knew it bothered her. People believing her impassive. Confusing her controlled expressions and impassive words for stone-cold, uncaring. Emotionless. The whispers had grown louder, bigger, since she'd started appearing by his side more often, their friendship an open, very public thing that had raised brows and dropped jaws from outsiders. Noah didn't care. He only cared that Siobhan knew he saw her for who she was. The smart, sharp-tongued pre-law student who had put him in his place the first time they met because she had integrity. None of her unimpressed looks or sarcastic jokes could ever hide the heart of gold within her chest. Glimmering cold under the light, but warm to the touch, conducting strength and hope to others without ever tiring out. Even tonight, facing her parents while the stress from the approaching draft rendered his brain useless, her unbending words sent a wave of calm through him, like liquid sunrays seeping through his veins.

"Ever so sure," Mike chuckled, the note of pride in his tone unmissable. "Let's put your motivation to good use by helping me clear out the table for dessert."

"Oh, I can–", he started, but was hushed by a single pointed look. He now knew where Siobhan had inherited her pinning glares.

"Stay here," her father said, though it sounded very close to an order. "You're a guest. I'm certain your strength outshines us by a margin, but I believe my dear daughter and I will be enough for this task. You have permission to pick us up on the way back from the kitchen if we don't reappear in ten minutes," he finished on a light tone. Siobhan rolled her eyes, muttered something about questionable tastes in jokes, then disappeared behind her father.

With the clatter of silvering against plates gone, silence fell over the table again. The twitching of his fingers came back, worse. Because opposite the table sat the person he dreaded the most: Lee Boram. Acclaimed criminal lawyer, renowned for carrying on her family's status, formidable in court. Also, Siobhan's mother.