The Night We Said Yes (22 page)

“I really like you too,” I said, bringing my lips back up to his. Old Ella wouldn’t have done this—but New, singing-onstage Ella didn’t care. She still felt the adrenaline from the performance, still wanted to stand out. It was crazy and exciting and I didn’t know what it all meant, but I was there, living it. It wasn’t Meg shining this time; it was me.

We were in the middle of the store, with people all around us, but we didn’t care. We embraced each other, embraced the moment, and fell into a new one together. Arms around arms, lips pressed together. And this time, Jake didn’t interrupt.

NOW

12:45
A
.
M
.

I leave the karaoke stage while Meg and Jake are still cheering like crazy. They’re making me blush, but I love them anyway. When I get to the table, Meg wraps me in a hug and I close my eyes to take in the moment. The feeling where everything will fall into place.

When she lets go, I finally let myself look at Matt. He’s smiling, but it’s not reaching his eyes.

“Hey,” I say, offering a meek, stupid wave. What else do you do after publicly announcing—through song—that you’re okay with starting over.

“You were great, really, great,” he says, and instead of looking excited or anything else I would have imagined, he
almost looks sad. “I’ll, um, I’ll be right back.” And with a simple sentence, he gets up and leaves the bar. And I’m alone as I feel my heart cracking.

“What was that all about?” Meg asks me, and I shrug because I honestly don’t know.

But I’m going to find out.

“Give me a second,” I say. I follow the way he went, up the stairs and out the front door, finding him pacing in the gravel parking lot.

“Matt,” I yell, and he whirls around at my voice. “What’s going on?” I walk over closer to him so I don’t have to yell. He’s stopped pacing, but he’s still avoiding me. I need him to look at me. Once again, I need him to explain.

“I get it, it’s okay,” he says quietly.

“What do you mean?” I ask. If he gets what I was singing, wouldn’t he be happier? Isn’t this what he wanted? Am I completely wrong?

“I just thought . . .” he says, mussing up his hair. “I don’t know. It would have been nice.”

“Nice?” I ask.

“To be back. I mean, when Jake invited me and you . . . never mind,” he says, going back to his pacing.

“Matt. Seriously.
What
are you talking about?”

He faces me again and he looks lost, alone, and I still don’t know why. “El, I get it. What you sang? I’ll leave you guys alone. You don’t have to be nice about it or anything.”

“What are you
talking
about?” I ask, grabbing his
shoulders to stop him from moving. He lifts his head to look at me and this time doesn’t look away. He didn’t get anything I sang, anything. “Are we . . . are we fighting because of a misinterpretation of lyrics?” I ask, a weight lifting off my chest. It makes me want to laugh. It is easier talking through notes and songs, but never, never worth it. And I find the irony of the situation amusing.

He cocks his head to the side, and though he’s still guarded, light is coming to his face again.

“Matt . . . when you came back tonight, I wasn’t ready. I was just so . . . surprised, and still—” I sigh, finally allowing myself to admit it. “—not over you. Despite how much I tried to convince myself otherwise. But I wasn’t
ready
to just . . . go back to what we were.”

“We don’t have to, I just—”

“But the thing is,” I cut him off, “I don’t want to. I don’t
want
to reenact the past anymore and remember it by papers or bracelets,” I say, holding up my wrist. “The past is gone and I’m ready to have a new beginning. I can’t be mad anymore.” He looks up, raising his eyebrows as a question. As awkward as it is, I meet his eyes for my confession. “I like you too much.”

“You do?” he asks, breathing out the words, as relief shows on his face. I nod in response because it’s all I can do. I’m done staying in the dark; I’m finally letting myself shine. “But what about the song?”

“It was my way of saying I didn’t want to fight anymore. I
was ready to just . . . give up and be happy.” I shake my head. “I guess that wasn’t conveyed, was it?”

“Not so much,” he laughs. “Now I know how you felt with the notes. . . .” he says, suddenly looking forlorn. Then he adds, “But you’re leaving soon. . . .”

“I know,” I say, and then, “But we do still have three months. And I think they’d be a hell of a lot better if you were in them.” I smile.

His face is full of a
really?
he doesn’t dare ask. I grin and start to laugh, answering anyway.

“Wait, this is what I came here to give you tonight,” he says, reaching into his pocket and handing me a piece of paper. My stomach seizes up because I thought we were past this.

I open it up and see that it’s blank. “What’s this?”

“It’s nothing. I don’t want to communicate that way anymore, or live through memories. Chris and I had different ways of adapting after we moved, and neither worked. I want to just try . . . living now.”

“I’d like that,” I say, putting the paper in my pocket. It’s the most honest thing he’s ever given me.

“So what do we do?” he asks, still standing a few inches away from me. I look at him and find myself wanting to run at him, hold him in my arms. Not because I did it in the past, but because right now, it’s all I want to feel.

I hold out my hand to him, ready to take the next step. Or the first. “Hi, I’m Ella. I enjoy breaking into schools,
telling cheesy jokes, and occasionally singing with a band.”

He laughs and takes my hand. “I’m Matt. I also like cheesy jokes and playing in a band. And I just moved back here for a girl I couldn’t get out of my mind. Thankfully, she doesn’t think I’m a complete idiot.”

“She seems nice,” I say, feeling his thumb rubbing the back of my hand.

“Oh, she is. Even if she’s afraid of climbing off a roof during a thunderstorm.”

“Hey!” I laugh as I feel him slowly pulling me toward him.

“But she makes up for it by being really cute.” He keeps pulling and my heart beats with anticipation.

“Better,” I answer, liking where this is going. Wanting to be closer, wanting to close the gap forever.

“And she has a pretty smile,” he says, raising his eyes, and I get what he’s saying. It’s the gig flyer from last year. Back then, and in so many other moments, he gave me these pieces to read what he was thinking and feeling. Something was always holding him back. But now . . . now he’s taking the risk. He’s jumping in, opening up and actually talking. And I feel myself leaning into him, and his words, because he broke down the barrier, and nothing stands between us anymore.

“Maybe I’ll get to meet her someday.”

“Maybe,” he says, finally bringing his hands to my face. “But I’m going to keep her to myself for a bit.”

He leans down and just when my pulse beat thinks it can’t take it anymore, I feel his lips on mine. And it’s soft and sweet and feels like home.

He pulls away smiling, but still tentative, holding me as if I’m glass that might break. I respond by wrapping my arms around his waist and gazing up at him. But before we kiss again, my mind manages to make sense out of one question.

“You moved back here for me?” I ask, face so close.

He blushes slightly, but doesn’t pull away. “Of course. I didn’t lie earlier—the school here is good . . . but . . . I’ve spent my life on the road, trying to find home, when really, you were always home to me.”

As the hole in my heart fills and beats and breathes again, I reach my hand up and bring it behind his head, curling my fingers into his hair. His body sighs, collapses at my touch, and then we’re kissing again.

They’re not small or sweet exploratory kisses, like the one before. They’re passionate and deep, making up for lost time. His arms wrap around my waist tightly, bringing me close to him. I throw my other arm around his neck. Our lips refuse to leave one another, not wanting to be separated again. Even moments to breathe feel like too long apart. The entire planet is moving and time is passing, but we’re staying in this one spot. We’re not leaving.

I want this. It’s a decision I’m making.

Gasping for breath, we break, parting our faces ever so slightly. He leans his forehead onto mine, playing with the
hair around my face, and I know he’s feeling the same way I do. He can’t even control the goofy grin plastered on his face, just as I can’t control mine. We laugh, because what else is there to do?

“Ahem.” We were so absorbed in the moment, I didn’t realize that more cars have pulled into the parking lot, that music is filtering up the stairs with someone doing a terrible rendition of Weezer’s “Buddy Holly,” and that Jake and Meg are a few feet away, staring. We jump at their interruption, breaking apart to face them. But Matt still pulls me close, an arm attached to my waist. I put mine around his, not wanting to let go ever again.

“I guess our job here is done,” Jake says, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Next to him, Meg is looking at me, grinning wildly. All is forgiven, apparently. To be fair, no one can argue with how happy we look.

“It feels only right that Jake interrupts us. Again,” Matt whispers to me, squeezing my waist. I giggle into his shoulder. It
does
feel right. Everything about this does. I feel his lips on my head and I memorize the touch. We don’t need to pick up a scrap of paper to remember tonight; we just made the perfect memory ourselves.

THREE MONTHS LATER

7:00
P
.
M
.

I see the lights first, extremely bright against the night sky. Whites and reds and blues flashing, announcing the fair’s presence. Calling everyone to attend. The Ferris wheel is tall, high in the sky and rotating continuously. A roller coaster stands next to it, all loops and drops.

“The fair!” I exclaim, thinking back to the amazing day we had a year ago when we went and he dared me to ride the roller coaster.

“Of course,” Matt says with a smile. “I thought it would be a fun way to spend your last night in town. Meg and Jake will be here in a bit.”

“You’re the best,” I say, hugging him as he drives into the
lot. It
is
my last night in town before going away—it wouldn’t be right if we weren’t doing something ridiculous and scary with Meg and Jake.

He parks in a grassy lot, and holds my hand as we walk in. Since the night in Kiki’s parking lot, he’s barely let go. And though we don’t know what the future will hold for us, we don’t plan on letting go anytime soon.

He buys us tickets for the rides, and we walk inside. Instantly, we’re hit with the smell. It’s a mixture of sawdust and sugar, ponies and funnel cake. Cotton candy piled high in pink and blue is sold to the left of us; loud games with blinking lights and bottles to topple over are on the right. Straight ahead are the rides.

“There’s something I want to do before the others get here,” he says, giving me a secretive smile.

“And what’s that?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ll see,” he answers, before leading me toward the games.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to fit a giant stuffed unicorn in my dorm,” I say as we keep walking past the stands. He squeezes my hand and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek.

“We’ll play the games after. I can be your own personal strong man.”

“I think the strong man is supposed to have muscles,” I joke.

“Ouch!” he laughs. “It should be over . . . here,” he says, in front of a generic photo booth.

“Picture?” I ask, not exactly sure where he’s going with this.

“Work with me,” he says, and I just nod and follow him into the booth. We close the curtain and it’s so small I practically have to sit on top of him. I snuggle up close and as the light flashes we make ridiculous faces, trying hard to make the other laugh. The last one is just that—a blur of us laughing.

When the photos print outside, I grab the first row of four. While waiting for the second set to print, we look at our faces and laugh. Much like in the photos still saved on his phone, we look so happy.

“I look ridiculous,” I say.

“You look cute,” Matt adds just as the second set of photos prints. But he doesn’t make an effort to get them. When I bend down to, he stops me.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Let’s leave them.”

“Why?”

“A nice memory for someone else?”

I smile at him, remembering how the first object he picked up was of strangers laughing. It made him curious, and gave him something to hold on to until he stopped collecting these scraps earlier this summer, after coming back. He doesn’t need them anymore, and neither do I. I think of someone picking up our photo later tonight, and wonder what they might think. Maybe our photo will do that
for someone else, show them that there’s happiness in the world. Perhaps they’ll start collecting things, too.

“What next?” he asks, snaking his arm around my waist.

“Roller coaster?” I dare to ask.

“I thought you were scared of them?” he asks, surprised.

“I’m done being scared,” I say, giving his hand a squeeze and leading the way. I don’t need a bracelet or a cheer to let me know I can do it. Though they’re great reminders, I can dare myself to live.

We approach the ride and find ourselves at the front of the line. There are tons of people here, but they all seem to be at the games and Ferris wheel. The roller coaster isn’t nearly as popular. Which, of course, scares me.

“Tickets?” a man wearing a striped red-and-white shirt asks. His expression is weary, his tone bored. He’s clearly tired of watching the fun and not being a part of it. White hair pokes out of his matching red-and-white cap.

Matt hands him our tickets and we walk up to the iridescent green dragon we’ll be riding. I glance at the sign above our heads:
DRAGON RACE
. The tracks look old, weathered; not quite silver, but a muted, worn gray. The dragon shakes as we sit down.

“I hope our weight isn’t too much for it,” I say, worried.

Instead of answering, Matt reaches over and gives me a kiss. We then pull the harnesses over our heads and get ready to go.

“WOOOOOOO!” I hear to my right and see Meg
running with Jake slowly following behind. “GO ELLA!” she shouts again, always cheering me on, and I wave and smile because even though I’m terrified, I’m glad they’re here.

“Ready?” Matt whispers, and I grab his hand again.

This is the part I hate the most. The anticipation before the ride. It’s like how I felt before singing. But I always love the rush. Always.

We start out slow, heading up the track for the first drop. We hear the click, click, click of the wheels, taunting us before the fall. It’s as if they’re counting down the seconds until our demise. And as we approach the top, I think of that first night Matt and I met.

It was much like this, a slow incline to the top. Small gestures click, click, clicking. And then, whoosh, we fall, fall, fall for each other. The first loop comes, and it’s like that first kiss that left me light-headed and faint. Then we’re rushing steadily along, then we suddenly drop, leaving each other. But after that, an incline, another go, and we climb, climb, climb to the top. We talk and feel each other out. And then we fall down again, and before we know it we’re outside Kiki’s kissing madly. We don’t care who sees or who hears as we’re screaming with the next loop, and the next fall. And I know there will be more. I know there will be ups and downs and corkscrews and loops, but I don’t care. I keep my eyes closed and enjoy the ride, hearing Matt scream right beside me. Knowing he’s with me through everything makes it so much better. I know we’ll make it.

As the harnesses rise, Matt jumps up, looking wild, excited, pumped full of adrenaline. It’s how he looks after a gig. It usually takes about an hour for the feeling to wear off, and in that time, he’s unstoppable. As am I when I sing with them, which from time to time I still do. He grabs my shaking hand as we walk off the ride. I’m giddy, jumping, thrilled, and my smile won’t stop growing. It only gets bigger when I see Meg holding a tiny bear Jake won her, and Jake pretending it wasn’t a big deal. It gets bigger when I remember I’m here, with them, and though this is my last night in town, I know it’s not the end. Heart pounding, wind in my hair, laughing crazily. I don’t care what happens next, but I’m ready for it. If I can face a roller coaster, I can face anything.

So when Matt leans over to kiss my cheek and asks if I want to go again, of course I say, “Yes.”