The Thing About Three

chapter thirty-six | promises, promises

THINGS WERE GOING to be different after my prom night. I knew that the second I awoke wrapped up in Noah's arms the following morning.

We'd fallen asleep together almost as soon as we had gotten to the hotel room and changed into the clothes Noah had packed for us—no 'funny business' to be had.

We spent that Sunday together after I dropped by my house to change into something better than the t-shirt and boxers Noah had given me, avoiding speaking about Dallas and the night before.

Dallas slowly became one of the topics we never spoke about, that much was certain at work the next day.

Dallas and Noah were careful to steer clear of each other, only speaking to the other when they absolutely had to. It seemed that what had happened that night between the three of us had done its damage.

Instead of speaking only at work like we had been doing, Dallas and I hardly ever spoke at all. He treated me like I was just an employee, and I treated him like he was just my boss.

It hurt, not being friends with him, but I saw it as a necessary sacrifice, because I couldn't lose my boyfriend.

Noah and I grew even closer following prom, things quickly getting serious between us.

In April, on what I thought was a random Wednesday, he invited me over to his house after work. We had the place to ourselves because his mom worked a night shift that night, and ordered pizza and watched some crappy movie about fast cars.

It was toward the end of the night when he turned to me with a smile, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a little velvet box.

"Today, six months ago, marks half a year since the day we kissed on the back of my car," he told me. "Now, I know we weren't officially dating then, but I'd like to make that our anniversary date, because, to me, that was when all of this became very real for me." He opened the box, showcasing a heart-shaped necklace. "So, happy anniversary."

I reached out and took the box. "Aw, Noah," I breathed out, grinning. "It's so pretty. Thank you." I gave him a kiss. "Could you help me put it on?"

"Yeah."

I turned around and lifted my hair, letting him slip the necklace around my neck and secure it there. I went to let go of my hair, but he brushed it over my shoulder, pressing his lips to the nape of my neck.

"You know," he started, kissing his way to my ear, "we do have this place all to ourselves . . ."

I turned my head and playfully frowned at him. "Get your head out of the gutter, Caraway."

He laughed, kissing me on the cheek. "Really, though, we could move this to the bedroom."

"And what are you expecting us to do in the bedroom? Because you know I'm not ready yet."

"I know, baby," he told me. "I'll wait for you. But I just want you to know that you have nothing to be worried about with me, okay? I'll take care of you when it comes to it."

I nodded, smiling softly. "Thanks, Noah."

For the next few weeks, that night replayed in my head, and so did the idea of giving him everything. The thought was enticing. I thought it'd make him happy, and thought that we'd grow closer as a couple.

And, as we spoke more about it, I started to see more pros than cons.

"I think I'm ready now," I told him one night at the movies, whispering. We were halfway into the movie.

"For what?" he whispered back, eyes still on the big screen. "To leave? The movie's not even over yet, Claire."

"No, not for that," I said. "For it."