Chapter Forty-Two
Elle
“We really have to go,” I told the tot, trying desperately to pry her off of my aching leg. After the skiing trip with Nick last weekend, the area from my waist down had been killing me (which may or may not have had to do with the amount of times I fell).
It was a fun excursion to say the least, and distracted me from my real life for just enough time. We were back, though, and school came as a priority, as did “work”. For me, work meant watching two teens bicker over what TV show to watch and trying to convince a four year old that marshmallows weren’t the innards of unicorns.
“But, Elle!” she whined, her grasp only tightening, “can’t you stay five more minutes?”
“I really wish I could, but Nick and I have to go somewhere,” I said apologetically as her mother merely smiled at the encounter. She didn’t bother to step in and rip her daughter off of me, no, she just watched as if it was the cutest thing ever.
“Where do you have to go?” her sea-colored eyes filled with innocence looked up into my own, captivating me.
“Somewhere,” I answered.
“Where?” she demanded.
“Somewhere,” I reiterated, not needing to go into my personal life with a child of her age.
“Where?” the whine escaped her mouth for a second time, as I finally managed to peel her off my sore extremity.
My lips parted, about to say something, though my trusty sidekick and boyfriend decided to step in. “On a date,” were the brilliant words I had been keeping from the little girl.
“Oooooh! Elle and Nicky sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-S-S-S-S—” she began to taunt, smiling widely at the two of us.
“Bella, dear, I think that’s enough,” Meredith decided to finally take control.
“But, mommy!” Bella protested.
“But nothing,” her mother said firmly.
“All I was trying to say was that Nicky and Elle are in love and I think that they should get married and live happily ever after together forever and ever and ever and ever and ever, just like in the princess movies! Oh! Elle, when you have babies I think you should name one of them Olive and the others Pepper, Salt, Bumblebee, Cutie, Pretty, Girlie, Princess, Sparkles, and Diamond! Wouldn’t Diamond be a pretty name for a baby? I think it would be,” she sighed happily, leaving my expression in awe as usual.
“If you would like our hypothetical daughter to be a stripper, then I think that ‘Diamond’ would be a perfect name,” Nick whispered to me.
“Shut up!” I slapped him.
“Mommy, Elle said a bad word!” Bella pointed an accusing finger at me as I realized what she was talking about.
“It’s not a bad word, and they have to leave,” Kennedy defended.
“I hope you get it in tonight, dude,” Jack wished Nick, as Nick pulled him in for a “manly” hug, and every female in the room began to chastise him except for Bella, who simply didn’t know any better.
“I’ll try, bro,” Nick laughed, as I slapped the back of his head.
“Elle, stop being abusive,” Nick released from his embrace with the teen, smirking at me.
“Nick, sh— please be quiet,” I corrected myself mid-sentence.
“I think we’ll be going now,” Nick articulated to Meredith, inching his way over to the door as he grabbed my hand.
“Well, thank you guys so much for coming over! The kids really love you!” Meredith smiled as Kennedy began complaining about her degrading word choice about the implication that she was still a child …which she was.
“It was our pleasure,” I said politely as Nick’s tugging became more persistent.
“I hope they didn’t scare you too much this time!” she laughed, the tone of her voice seeping into Smalltalk territory.
Though I never did, at the moment, I didn’t exactly have any desire to get into a long, monotonous, useless conversation about nothing in particular with this woman. There was nothing wrong with Meredith, she seemed like a lovely individual and a hardworking mother; I simply hated putting on a fake façade, pretending to care about the little things. It wasn’t me.
For the majority of my life, superficial people who couldn’t really care less had surrounded me. They weren’t even remotely interested that a relative of yours was in the hospital, or that your dog of twelve years had passed away. All they cared about were materialistic things on the surface, like what brand of perfume you were wearing, or how much money your car cost. It was all fake.
Now, I wasn’t generalizing, for I had had many intellectual conversations over the years, about topics ranging from climate change to issues in the Middle East. There were, indeed, some very bright beings that I had had the pleasure to interact with in the past. Take Danni Ross, Nick’s mom, for example: Danni was about as real as it got. Well, that’s not true, but she was still pretty down-to-earth. Her Jimmy Choo pumps aside, with Danni you could have a genuine discussion. She wasn’t the type of person that put up a bullshit front; she liked talking about the little things in life and truly cared (or, at least, was a pretty great pretender).
It wasn’t to say that I, personally, was superior to others, because I too had faked it before when needed. But, right now, I wanted to leave. I had endured over three hours of the internet-obsessed generation, and was done.
“They could never scare me!” I laughed lightly. “I can’t wait to see them again soon, but, right now, we have really have to get going!”
“Of course! I completely understand,” Meredith nodded. “You two go have fun!”
“Don’t worry, we will,” Nick said, a miniscule indication of a sexual reference becoming apparent to me. I flicked his ear, and we were off. Just like that.
After jogging down a few steps and maneuvering our way over a frozen sidewalk, we came to Nick’s car. I slipped into the passenger’s seat, inhaling the familiar but indescribable scent that went along with the vehicle. It was what Nick smelt like; though it wasn’t entirely logical, his scent resembled a mixture of class and confidence. After all, he was Nick Ross.
As I sat in the car’s seat, mindlessly watching the boy I loved skillfully attempt to jam his keys into the ignition, I had a realization. It was one of those moments that just randomly popped up into one’s mind for no particular reason. Well, that’s not entirely true; there was a reason, a trigger, really.
Even though we had split up in the car that we were now sitting in, it didn’t matter. Sure, it brought back some melancholy memories, but it was just a car. It would probably always evoke some uneasiness from me, but that didn’t matter either. Jake Anderson didn’t matter, nor did the past few months of tension. What did matter was that I was with Nick. Everything else was irrelevant.
Nick
Our clasped hands swung at an easy pace between us as we walked down the notorious pathway known to most as “Harvard Yard”. Despite the lack of people due to the chilled weather, it was still one of the best places on campus.
A light glaze of snow spread over the large squares of normally green grass, leaving leafless trees to be the only sign of lifeless vegetation. The towering, redbrick buildings were the only spurts of color that arose through the dreary shades that were most commonly associated with the winter. It was Harvard.
To me, Harvard had always been, well, Harvard; it was nothing special. It was just another school on my parents’ list to sign me up for. Getting in wasn’t an issue, nor was the steep tuition. I was a privileged kid who couldn’t care less if I got into all eight of the Ivy Leagues, or ended up at a dumpy, community college. It had always been my outlook on the years after high school; they were four, short years, so it didn’t really matter where I went.
When I first applied to the prestigious school, I had no intention of actually going. Submitting the application was highly influenced by my parents. I was skiing at the time, and college wasn’t exactly on my radar. Then, I got in and had to make the second toughest decision of my life: an education or my dream. In the long term, I think that I made the right choice.
I grew up in a world with no limitations. Everything was reachable for me. “No” wasn’t a word I was overly familiar with. When I began thinking about higher education, getting accepted wasn’t my worry, but rather where I actually wanted to go. There were so many schools, and yet, I was skiing instead of focusing all my attention on them.
It was entirely my option to leave the realms of pro-skiing to become a college student. I think it was a maturity thing. But, then again, there was still always the question of “Why Harvard?” There were so many other incredible universities I could’ve gone to, and yet, I chose Harvard.
Unlike some of my past verdicts, it wasn’t a random or rash choice; there were some subconscious reasons that I wanted to go. The academics and resources were amazing, as were the location and climate. I could relate to students on a financial level, in addition to an intellectual one. There was, however, one other motivation that I was storing in the depths of my rationalization: Elle Paterson.
Since about birth, Elle had been infatuated with the concept that Harvard was everything. After thirteen years of school, she would either go to Harvard, or she wouldn’t go at all. There was no compromising when it came to college with that girl.
When we were younger, Elle was always the girl whose test you want to cheat off of. She was smart— really smart. I was a relatively fast-paced learner, but Elle always managed to get higher grades than I. Maybe it was because my work ethic sucked, or because I was too consumed in my social skills; nevertheless, she was the one girl that gave me someone to compete with academically. The others didn’t compare. While I was most driven and in my element when skiing, she had always preferred the classroom.
That’s one of things that I liked about Elle; she wasn’t afraid to be smart. Over the years, I had encountered quite a couple of girls, but Elle was the only one who ever challenged me. She wasn’t always her difficult, sarcastic, kickass self, though; no, at one time that girl possessed about as much confidence as a chipmunk. Then, something changed; she changed.
Basically, I went to private school for a number of years, and then quit because I wanted to expand my social pool and didn’t want to wear those idiotic polo shirts with the school’s dumb monogram on the chest. Everyone at the private school was pissed at me because I left. I was about thirteen or so at the time. For high school, I went two years in public, and then my parents made me transfer back into the system of prep and money. That was when I met Elle— the new Elle.
In actuality, I had known her since we were five, but there was something different about her. Besides the fact that she was way more attractive than she was when I had left, she also seemed to be more comfortable in her own skin.
I ended up asking her out in a spur of the moment kind of thing, and the rest was history. When I left to ski, I naïvely thought that I would never see her again. This was Elle, our paths didn’t just cross once or twice; they were knotted together for good…
When my mom told me that she had found me a condo that I would be sharing with two kids around my age, I didn’t give it a second thought. Not once did who the “kids” were even surface as a question. I was skiing while I could; I didn’t care, honestly.
Then I saw her again, that first day, at the Starbucks. So many emotions sparked when my eyes landed on her unforgettable face. I had been given another chance, and ran as fast as I could with it. After losing her once, I knew I could never make the same mistake again. She was Elle.
“Uh, Nick, why are Kara Freaking Thompson and Jonathan Kent standing in front of us?!” Elle all but shrieked out of excitement, her enthusiasm jerking me out of my enthrallment.
“Because I’m the best boyfriend ever, duh!” I joked, as she released my hand to go embrace her best friend.
“No, really, why?” she continued to hug Kara.
“I already told you; I’m the best boyfriend in the history of ever, and thought that it would put a smile on your face, seeing her and all, so I flew her in on my private teleportation machine,” I insisted, as she dropped her arms so she could turn back and playfully glare at me.
“Fine,” she huffed, “if you’re not going to tell me, then that’s fine.”
“I was planning on, like, coming up to surprise you anyways, but then Nick said that we should, like, meet up here, so yeah,” Kara explained, as I drew my palm up to my gorgeous face dramatically, covering it.
“You weren’t supposed to tell her!” I sighed, as Elle’s hand found its way back into mine, just where it belonged.
“Well excuse me for not getting the memo!” Kara stretched the “U” out longer than needed for the effect of her words.
“And John,” Elle addressed the abnormally noiseless boy, “did you know about this and not tell me?”
John’s eyes rolled, as he began an explanation. “It was a surprise; I believe, correct me if I’m wrong—”
“Don’t worry, I will,” I interjected helpfully.
“As I was saying,” his voice was irritated, “the point of a surprise is for it to be a surprise—”
“That makes absolutely no sense,” his own girlfriend interrupted, earning her the same look that he had sent me.
“Elle, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to ruin the most important component; that being the whole surprise thing,” John finally got out without any disruptions.
“You could’ve told me,” Elle grumbled.
“Well, are you at least happy about the thing we didn’t tell you about?” I questioned, already knowing the answer.
“Yes,” she admitted.
“Good,” I grinned, squeezing her hand to remind myself that it was still there; exactly where it fit.
“You two are too damn adorable!” Kara exclaimed, watching our interaction.
“Yeah, yeah we are,” Elle agreed instead of proposing the obvious line of saying something about how Kara and John were made for each or some mushy crap along those lines.
Being Kara, she pouted at Elle, and then proceeded to make an insignificant remark about Elle’s duty as a best friend to compliment her back. Those two were the type of friends that would be mindlessly bickering one minute, and then having trouble breathing due to a laughing attack the next.
As best friends went, they were a pretty good pair. Unlikely, one being the classic, blonde airhead, the other a brilliant brunette, but a perfect match nonetheless. I suppose the term “opposites attract” was coined just for Elle and Kara.
“Do you think that we’ll still do stuff like this when we’re, like, old?” Kara questioned, placing John’s arm over her shoulder, and displaying whom the dominant one in the relationship truly was. “I mean, like, will we still hang out when Elle’s a lawyer and Nick’s a doctor, and John owns a business, leaving me to be the dutiful housewife I was born to be?”
I laughed, remembering a time in about kindergarten when we were all asked what we wanted to be when we grew up. Most kids said the classic occupations along the lines of princesses, astronauts, veterinarians, racecar drivers, star athletes, celebrities, singers, artists, actors, models, spies, firefighters, cops, and a slew of other unrealistic things for children who grew up in America’s middle to upper class. And then, there was Kara. This girl said one of the more realistic of the professions: a housewife. Even at age five, Kara knew her destiny.
“I think we will,” Elle said, her voice sincere.
“Me too,” John joined in.
“What about you, Nick?” Kara asked me.
“I don’t like thinking about that stuff; the future, I mean,” I expressed truthfully.
“It’s okay, I’ll be there with you,” Elle said, returning the jolt of electricity I had sent her minutes before through the connection of our hands.
“You better be,” I said, sincerity lining my words.
“Don’t worry, I will be,” she smiled, pausing before she continued. “In the words of a great boyfriend who went by the name of Nick Ross, ‘As long as you’re mine, nothing truly matters’,” she threw my words back at me.
“I love you, Elle.”
“I love you too, Nick.”