Let Me List the Ways

by Sarah White

  “Do you ever think about your life in a few years?” he asked, staring out at the water, both of us avoiding eye contact.

  “Yes. I’ve thought about it.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, my chest tightening with anticipation.

  “Well, what do you see?”

  “I imagine I’ll be in college. Hopefully finishing up a degree. I’ll probably still be living close to home, but in an apartment or rental house with a roommate.” It all seemed so fuzzy now, like my future was changing while we had the conversation.

  “With who?” he asked, sounding like he already knew the answer. I thought hard about all of my friends. I tried to picture Nisha and me living together, but I knew that wasn’t a great fit. Then I considered Regan, but that didn’t feel right either. Maria? No.

  “Can’t picture it, can you?” he asked, squeezing my leg just a little so I’d look at him. He smiled at me but shook his head. “I can’t either. I try to, I really do. I can imagine my bed and my dresser, the old poster of the trophy truck and even where I’d put my bulletin board or what snacks I’d keep in the fridge. I can imagine all that shit, but not a roommate.”

  I tried again to imagine it and could then see the little details he was talking about. I could picture the stark white walls of a new apartment and the purple and pink swirls of my favorite bedspread. I could imagine bringing with me the picture of him and me when we won first and second place in our bike rodeo in fifth grade. I’d set it on my desk. But in my head, when I stepped out of my room and into my imagined living room, the person I saw was him.

  My ears were almost ringing with the peacefulness of the evening around us. We were alone on the balcony, three stories above anyone walking below. I turned to face him, trying so hard to bring my confession to the tip of my tongue. His eyes met mine and stayed locked with the most determined and tortured look I’d ever seen him wear. He grinned a little, and it made my heart hurt for a second because I could see his heart was heavy with a secret of his own. Just when I thought mine would burst through my lips, he whispered, “All I can ever see is you.”

  I drew in a breath right before his lips met mine and my world was lit on fire. His hand moved to the side of my face and his fingers slid into my hair, tipping my head slightly so he could deepen the kiss. I was falling—no, flying, soaring, but also diving. My heart was growing and expanding like the flame when the wick of a candle ignites. My eyes were closed but I could see him in my soul. His taste was familiar but his touch on my face felt so new. He pressed his lips to mine one last time and then pulled back far enough to really look at me. His gaze moved from my lips to my eyes as if he was searching for something. My chest heaved with a heavy breath, my head swimming—my body floating. He whispered, “Tell me you see me too.”

  Thirty-One

  “IT’S ALWAYS BEEN you,” I said, and the burden of keeping that secret from him was lifted.

  “The first time I kissed you, I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said as he looked into my eyes. “I thought Jude made you happy, so I let you go so you could be with him.”

  I was already shaking my head. “I loved you.”

  “I didn’t know. You told me not to tell Erin.”

  “I guess we wanted the same thing for each other,” I said, reaching up to touch his face. “I thought she made you happy.”

  He shook his head gently and gave me a small kiss and then held my hand. “I’ve loved you for a long time. I first told my mom when I was nine. She told me she loved you too, but in my heart I knew it was different. She didn’t need to be near you or know you were okay all the time.” He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it. “I told her again when we were twelve. I told her, ‘I love Zie,’ and she told me she knew. I was braver then and said, ‘No. I love her, love her.’ She told me that being so close with someone felt good in your heart and that you and I were best friends.” He chuckled a little and brought his free hand up to clasp on tighter to our joined ones.

  “At fifteen I tried again. She was cooking dinner and it was just the two of us; my dad and brothers must have been at some event. I remember standing in that kitchen with her and saying, ‘I love her, Mom.’ I told her, ‘It isn’t the same love you have for her and it isn’t just because she’s my friend. I think I’m going to love her forever.’” He smiled at me and I thought my face was going to stay permanently frozen with the biggest smile I’d ever had until that joy overflowed within my heart and tears of happiness filled my eyes.

  He cleared his throat and wiped a tear that escaped my eye with his thumb. “She told me I needed to be sure. She told me if I broke your heart I’d destroy what took years to build. I got scared. I wanted to protect you—not hurt you. I decided if you ever wanted to fall in love with me I’d be there. I wouldn’t ask to hold your heart unless you put it in my hands.”

  “I had no idea,” I managed to whisper past the lump in my throat.

  “I know,” he laughed, swiping a strand of hair that had fallen in my face behind my ear. “I thought you would never see me as more than a friend.”

  “Don’t be silly,” I teased. “I fell in love with you first.” Then I leaned in and kissed him because I finally could. I could love him in the open and give a voice to the words that had been trying to escape for years. The sound of a door swinging open and the bold smell of tomato sauce and cheese surrounded us. The young guy from behind the counter set our pizza on the table with a knowing grin.

  Nolan grabbed my kit and handed it to me as he served our pizza. It was surreal to be sitting with him in that beautiful city under a bridge from a far land with nothing but honesty between us. “What about our parents?” I asked around a hot bite. He wiped his mouth before smiling.

  “They’ll still live next door to each other. Our moms will still get drunk before nine every month on game night and our dads will continue to pretend they don’t enjoy it. They were friends before us and they’ll be friends if ever there’s an after us.”

  We finished up the pizza and walked hand in hand back down the big ramp. The bridge was lit up with bright lights strung together, and we stopped one more time to grab a picture. We stepped up to the wide column of blocks and I ran my fingers over them again. When Nolan held his arm out to center us on the screen of his phone, I moved in close to him, wrapping one arm around his waist. With our faces near but not touching, he snapped a picture and said, “This is before.” His fingers swiped quickly over his screen, typing a message and sending the picture. I gave him a curious look, but he just pulled me back against him and smiled down on me with the camera out and our images centered perfectly. “And this is for after.” He kissed me again and I heard the click of the camera go off.

  “After what?” I asked when we broke apart.

  “After that text that I just sent to everyone letting them know we are finally officially together.” He turned his phone around so I could see the last picture of us kissing on the message screen. Our parents were very supportive of the news, but we were informed there would be new rules when we returned home from our trip.

  The next morning, we woke up determined to finish our list before we had to leave the next day. We found a tattoo shop in town that could ink us both that day. I still had no idea what we were going to get when we walked into the colorful business, the bell above the door announcing our entrance.

  “Welcome,” the man behind the counter greeted us as he held out his hand for Nolan to shake. “How can I help you?”

  “I called earlier,” Nolan said, pulling me up to the counter by my hand. “We both want tattoos.”

  “Do you already know what you want?”

  I looked at Nolan, curious if he’d already made a decision. I had been thinking about it since we first wrote the item on our list. Nothing seemed to make sense when I thought about having it on my body forever. Standing in the shop, Nolan seemed so confident. “I do.”

  It was perfect. I watched Nolan as the masculine text was inked o
nto his skin at his side, centered on his ribs. The single word would definitely be something he would be asked about forever.

  Nolan checked out his tattoo in the mirror as the tattoo artist cleaned his station and prepped my ribs for the same permanent message. My script was tilted and feminine, but the word was the same. Nolan held my hand as I tried not to squirm when the needles danced across my skin. When it was finished, I stood in front of the mirror and read the word that would always remind us of this trip and the revelation that took traveling almost four hundred miles outside our boundaries to be brought to light.

  “What does it mean to you guys?” the artist asked as he snapped his glove off his hand.

  “It’s a word that describes both our past and our future,” Nolan answered, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “It’s always been her, and it always will be.”

  That night when I pulled out my kit, I opened the pouch where I stored our list. I’d keep it forever, but I wanted to know what it felt like to put that final line through our last item and actually be happy about it. I unfolded it and ran my palm across the soft fibers to straighten it out. Beneath tattoos, another item had been written, and I let the tip of my finger slide over the letters pressed into the napkin in Nolan’s writing. I used my pen to strike through the word tattoos and then folded the napkin and tucked it back where it belonged. After all, we had the rest of our lives to always be best friends.

  Just as I was about to put my kit on the nightstand beside the bed, I saw that Nolan had left out a new sheet of paper and a pen. He’d already titled the list, but he’d only written two items, leaving some empty lines for me to fill in. I set my kit down and picked up the pen, smiling as I read TOP TEN THINGS WE MUST COMPLETE AS COLLEGE FRESHMEN. I laughed as I read the first item and decided I’d wait until the end of summer to point out that security most likely frowned upon toilet-papering college mascots.

  Acknowledgments

  When I was a teen I thought friendship was measured in volume. A therapist once told me that might be wrong. She suggested that as I grew older I’d come to understand my truest of friends would most likely be able to be counted on the fingers of my own hands. At the time I couldn’t see that and sometimes longed to have a larger social circle. Lord knows I’ve been judged for my lack of one. I’ve always had a few close friends who have been there no matter what over the years. Our lives have come together and then grown apart as we each moved along our own journeys, only to come back again when we’ve found ourselves in some place where we needed to reach out. Recently I was the one picking up the phone. So this story—this book about life-long friends, falling in love, heartbreak, and wanting to be worthy—is the perfect place to thank my friends.

  Jaime Angell, you have been unwavering in your support of me throughout this writing path I’ve chosen. You’ve picked up my pieces many times and are always the voice of reason I call when I need to be reassured and want someone who cares enough about me to be honest. You’re always invested, no matter what is going on as you walk your own path, and for that I’ll forever be grateful. Thank you.

  Christina Zeller, the friend who taught me about the most amazing kind of tribe. The woman who refused to let a day go by without my phone buzzing during some hard times. I can’t believe how lucky I was that the world saw fit to sit our wonderful little guys together so long ago. We might not be room moms anymore, but we are going to make excellent RAs at their college of choice. Not okay? Fine, at least I’ll love my travel partner when we go to visit them. I can’t thank you enough for everything.

  Sandy Bruce, you are one strong woman. Your support and friendship helped more than you know. Sometimes I’m not sure I would have known which foot to put in front of the other without you. You were a peaceful calm, and if anyone has ever experienced chaos they will know how priceless that is. Thank you.

  Lisa Miller and your basket of delicious cookies. You have always been there even when we haven’t talked in ages. You are in little memories from so many moments of my life. I think of you as my kids discover old movies, songs from our youth, and when driving by our old favorite hangouts. Thank you for always being my friend.

  Erika Altman, what a crazy ride we’ve been on since we first passed that note in that awful astrology class! I knew there was something about you that would make me want to know you forever. I’m so happy to call you my friend. Thanks for your support.

  Melinda Di Lorenzo, you are an amazing author with a wicked talent for writing dialogue. You make me laugh and keep me motivated. You’ve given me not only hope in this career, but opportunities. You were so generous with your time to review this story and make sure it was true to life. You gave me perspective and insight. Thank you!

  Elizabeth Chapman, thank you for sharing your knowledge about T1 and, of course, my wonderful niece. I love you.

  Thank you to Catherine Wallace for supporting me and helping me share this book with the world. I will forever be grateful you gave me a chance at HarperTeen!

  Thank you to my family for your support and understanding during the times I’ve had to work both jobs to make this happen. I love all of you very much. Love you Jake and Josh!!

  And thank you to the readers who have been there with me since day one, and those who have found me along the way. I couldn’t do this career without you. I hope you enjoyed the story!

  About the Author

  Photo credit Kristen Saldana at Kaptured by Kristen Photography

  SARAH WHITE was born and raised in California. A graduate of the University of California, Los Angeles, and California State University, Long Beach, she has a bachelor’s degree in psychology and a master’s degree in counseling. Sarah spends her days as a marriage and family therapist and her nights and weekends reading and writing stories. She is a winner of the Harlequin So You Think You Can Write Contest and a Watty Award. She currently lives in California with her husband and two boys. You can visit her online at www.sarahlwhite.com.

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  Copyright

  HarperTeen is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

  LET ME LIST THE WAYS. Copyright © 2018 by Sarah White. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

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  Cover photograph by Getty Images

  Cover design and hand lettering by Michelle Taormina

  * * *

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018933327

  Digital Edition JULY 2018 ISBN: 978-0-06-247316-5

  Print ISBN: 978-0-06-247315-8

  * * *

  1819202122PC/LSCH10987654321

  FIRST EDITION

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