a story in which timothée and norah become highschool sweethearts
or rather a story where timothèe and norah geek over each other to the max
*all lowercase is intended*
*contains mature content/triggering themes*
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liked by 233 thatgirlnorah: cheers to finishing piano lessons...i definitely have arthritis at 17
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amberharrison: underage drinking is not cool. thatgirlnorah: who are you and what have you done with my best friend
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norah
i'm in such a state of bliss that i can barely hear my parents cruel remarks against me. instead, i have timothèe's hand holding mine underneath the table, while my other hand ate the small serving of ravioli at the expensive restaurant. i haven't eaten all day, and i will definitely be eating the contents of my refrigerator when we arrive home. i have to be good to myself. i deserve it after today.
i'm thrilled my grandparents are here, too. they're always so loving and positive with me; they don't think i could ever do anything wrong. they always come up from boston to watch my recitals, and i feel a twinge of sadness that this will be their last time in new york for this specific purpose, but i don't stay upset for long.
"now, timothèe, where will you be going to school next year?" gramps questions, pointing his empty fork at him. timmy's been happy all night as well, relishing in my joy.
"well, gramps, i'm off to columbia. it's only about a twenty minute drive from nyu, so nor won't be able to get rid of me quite yet," timmy chuckles. my heart warms even more, knowing he's done the research on how far we'd be from each other.
"you didn't tell us your boyfriend was ivy league!" my dad strikes up. i can tell he's being genuine, and excited for timothèe's accomplishment. i hope timmy doesn't get offended by me not gloating about him, but i've just been trying to avoid the conversation i know is coming.
"norah, if you would've applied yourself during high school you wouldn't have any distance between you two at all," mom adds. thank you so much for popping my little gleeful bubble i was in, i really appreciate it.
"i didn't want to go ivy league, mom. i've always wanted to go to nyu," i tell her, trying to remain calm. timothèe's hand gives mine a reassuring squeeze.
"i can't see why. if you weren't going to go ivy league, then you at least should've gone to juilliard for your piano. or christ, even left the state like amber is doing. not moving ten minutes away to go take a foolish writing degree," my mother spews out, spite in her voice. i feel tears pricking at my eyes, and i look down at the floor avoiding eye contact. suddenly, exhaustion from the day hits me and i don't have the strength to fight with her.
