The Kissing Booth 3: Impending Destiny

eight

A/N- Thought I'd treat you guys to another chapter considering I left you waiting so long for the previous. Enjoy! 

*three days later* 

~Elle~ 

In just a few hours, the best week of my life turned into the worst. I'd travelled home from London, alone. When I arrived in Santa Monica, everything was different. My classmates were all at their chosen colleges, most probably enjoying themselves. The only person who didn't go to college was Tuppen, he decided to take a year out and travel around Europe. He'd even arranged to stop in and see me when he was in London in a few months, I was looking forward to that.  It wasn't the same driving past the Flynn's knowing that I left Noah alone in London, and that Lee was at Berkeley, without me. As tired as I was, I just couldn't sleep the night I arrived home. My mind was playing all sorts of tricks on me. It was telling me I was a horrible person for leaving Noah the way I did. But it also told me I did the right thing, and that Marco would have done the same for me if it was my brother in a coma. I don't know why I did it, knowing that Marco didn't want anything to do with me should have been enough to keep me away, but somehow it didn't. He'd proven that he didn't want anything to do with me when he told my dad what his friend told him about Noah, and I was dreading asking him if he was telling the truth. Another part of me wanted to be there for him,  he was there when I needed to raise money for college, and I knew it was what a friend should do. After all, that's what we were only ever going to be, friends and nothing more. 

"Hey, Elle," Dad said, stroking my hair as I lay with my head in his lap in the hospital waiting room. 
"Do you think he will want me here?" I asked. 
Dad shuffled in his seat, it seemed like he felt awkward. "I don't know, sweetie. But, it shows him you care, and that's all that matters." 
Marco hadn't left his brother's bedside in the whole time I had been sat here for. In fact, I hadn't seen anyone exit his brother's room, except from the doctor and nurses. 
Being in the hospital brought back horrible memories, but also some of the best. I watched mom die in this very ward, but I'd also spent her last few days by her bedside, which I was grateful for. 
Waiting for Marco to come into the waiting room felt like waiting for a storm to pass. When I saw him exit the side room, I could tell he'd been crying, his eyes were red and puffy and I just wanted to hug him. It was only when his eyes locked onto mine that I saw a faint smile form on his face, and then I saw the prettiest damn girl I'd ever seen appear beside him, wrapping her arm around his shoulder. At that moment, I felt my heart sink. 

He approached me, the could-be-supermodel still attached to him. 
"Mr. Evans...." He said, giving my dad a quick smile before turning to me. 
"Elle," his frame towered over me. "What are you doing here?" 
"My dad told me about your brother, I'm so sorry." 
"Thanks." He snapped instantly, his tone disconsolate and dreary. 
He turned to the girl and whispered something to her, she walked off into the direction of the cafeteria, not before kissing his cheek. 
Ugh, can you not? I thought to myself, as I felt myself internally curse at the fact that my lips were probably the last to have touched his cheek. and his lips before her. 
A wave of emotion consumed me as I felt Marco's arms wrap around me, a tear drop falling onto the cotton of my shirt. What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to act? 
I remember how hard it was when mom was in ICU, every visitor tried so hard to make small talk, to ask me if I was okay, as much as I appreciated their concern, it also pissed me off. I'd rather them have just sat down and kept quiet. 

"I can't believe you came back." He said, when pulling away from me. "Thank you." 
"It's okay. How is he?"
Before I could even think, Marco took my hand and led me towards the window of his brother's room. My eyes welled up at the sight of him, who I'd only seen a few weeks ago at the arcade, attached to a machine. He had a bandage across his head, he looked so peaceful, like he was asleep. But it hurt me to know he was suffering. His mom was sat at his bedside, one hand wrapped in her son's, the other in her husband's. 
I felt my hand interlock with Marco's, I needed to show him I was there for him, no matter what we had been through. The only thing that mattered was that I was there in that moment, our history didn't matter. Nothing mattered, except his brother.