by Zoe Sugg
But then I met Brooklyn Boy.
And the weirdest thing has happened.
Even though I’ve only known him for a few days, in many ways, in important ways, it feels as if I’ve known him forever.
So, I still don’t know who his favorite band is, or his favorite flavor ice cream, but I do know that I can tell him anything.
And I know that I can cry in front of him and show him my weak side and I know that he won’t judge me at all.
And I know that he can cry in front of me and show me his weak side and I won’t judge him either—it just makes me like him even more.
It’s so hard to try to describe how I’m feeling. The best way to put it is that when I’m with him I feel like I’ve met my matching person.
Like Cinderella and Prince Charming.
Or Barbie and Ken. (Hmm, not sure that’s such a great example but you know what I mean.)
Can any of you relate to what I’m saying?
Have any of you felt this way before?
Do you think he might be my soul mate?
Could I really have been lucky enough to meet the one for me? And not have to go trekking through a rain forest or desert to find him!
Please let me know your thoughts in the comments below.
Lots of love,
Girl Online, going offline xxx
PS: If you haven’t already worked it out, I’m still here—in New York! We’ve been able to stay until New Year’s Day. And we’re staying in Brooklyn Boy’s house!! Fairy tales really can happen
Chapter Thirty-One
After posting my blog, I’m just starting to drift off to sleep when I’m woken by a text alert. My first thought, as I fumble for my phone, is Elliot. But the text’s from Noah.
Did Santa come . . . ?
Oh yes, Bella and I were up at 5:30 emptying our stockings!
Man! I can’t believe you opened them without me! Meet me in the kitchen
Evidence that Noah is my soul mate
1. I am able to cry in front of him.
2. He is able to cry in front of me.
3. Every time I see him it feels as if another part of us is slotting into place
4. It’s like we’re a “matching pair.” (Kind of like curtains but way more romantic!)
5. When he asks me to meet him in the kitchen first thing in the morning, I don’t panic about what I look like with zero makeup and bed-hair. I just pull on my snow leopard onesie and head straight down there.
In the kitchen, Sadie Lee and Dad are combining cooking forces and it smells amazing. Noah is seated at the round pine table in the corner, wearing a baseball top and sweatpants. As soon as he sees me, he gives me an extra-dimply grin and pulls back the chair next to him.
“Merry Christmas, Penny!” he says as I sit down. “Cute outfit.”
“Thank you. I thought snow leopard would be a good Christmas Day look.” I laugh. “Merry Christmas.”
“Penny!” Dad and Sadie Lee chorus, turning from the huge stove to greet me. “Merry Christmas!”
If today were a Christmas movie, then this morning would be the bit where it cuts to a soft-focus montage of super-happy scenes, while “Jingle Bells” plays in the background. All of us laughing and joking and comparing stocking gifts around the breakfast table. Noah and I building a “snow princess” for Bella in the back garden. Dad joining us for a snowball fight. Mum and I helping Sadie Lee peel about a million Brussels sprouts. The only thing that stops it from being totally perfect is that I still haven’t heard anything from Elliot. When I tried calling him earlier, it went straight to voicemail and I’ve sent him four texts. It’s now two o’clock in the afternoon New York time, which means it’s evening in London. Why has he gone all day without wishing me a merry Christmas?
As Noah and I set the dining-room table for dinner, I check my phone for the umpteenth time.
“Is everything all right?” Noah says.
“Yes. I’m just a little bit worried because I haven’t heard from Elliot today.” I put my phone back in my pocket and carry on laying napkins at each place setting.
“Maybe he’s just enjoying his Christmas?”
I laugh. “Not with his parents. Elliot always says that his mum and dad think ‘fun’ is a four-letter word.”
Noah places a pair of Santa-shaped salt and pepper pots in the center of the table. “I’m sure he’ll text soon.”
It suddenly dawns on me that ever since I’ve been here I’ve never seen Noah on his mobile phone. “How come you’re never on your phone?” I ask, instantly squirming for being too nosy.
“I’m on a detox over Christmas,” Noah says with a grin.
I look at him questioningly.
“An Internet and cell-phone detox. You should try it some time. It’s liberating.”
I frown. Much as my experience with the Unicorn Pants from Hell video was unpleasant and hurtful, I can’t imagine life without the Internet or my phone.
“Go on, I dare you,” Noah says. “Step away from the cell phone.”
I laugh. “OK, but if I start twitching or having any kind of weird withdrawal symptoms I’m getting it straight back.”
“Sure.” Noah’s face goes all serious for a moment. “Sometimes I really hate the Internet, you know?”
I stop laying out napkins and look at him. “Why?”
He sighs. “It’s not—”
“Are you guys finished?” Mum comes into the room, holding a glass of wine. Her hair is hanging loose around her shoulders and her face is glowing. It’s lovely seeing her looking so relaxed.
“Pretty much,” Noah says.
“Make way, make way, incoming turkey,” Dad calls, walking into the room carrying a humongous roast turkey on a silver platter.
I turn my phone off and sit down at the table.
• • •
The Christmas dinner is so delicious we decide to start a charity collection for every time someone says, “Mmmm!” Kind of like a food version of a swear box. By the time we’ve finished dessert—all four of them—we’ve collected twenty-seven dollars.
“Gift time! Gift time!” Bella shrieks, leaping from the table.
The rest of us all look at each other and raise our eyebrows.
“I actually don’t think I can move,” Noah says, slumped back in his chair. “It feels like I have a food boulder in my stomach.”
“Me too,” Dad says. He looks at Mum. “You might have to give me a piggyback, sweetheart.”
Mum laughs. “No chance!”
In the end, we all somehow manage to stumble and stagger through to the living room, where Bella is already sorting the gifts under the trees into piles.
“I have a lot more gifts than you,” she says to me solemnly, “but that’s OK because I’m a child and they said on the news the other day that Christmas is for children, didn’t they, Grandma?”
Sadie Lee laughs. “Yes, they did, honey.”
“And if I get anything that I don’t really like, I’ll give it to you, ’kay?” Bella takes my hand and holds it tightly.
“That’s so sweet of you,” I tell her solemnly, “but it’s OK—I really don’t mind.”
Bella grins and bounds back to her pile of gifts.
Noah and I are the last people to exchange gifts. As I watch him unwrap the record, I’m hit by a wave of doubt. What if he hates it? What if it’s totally the wrong thing? What if Slim Daniels was wrong and it’s not an “awesome choice” at all? But from the way Noah is grinning as he takes the record out of its paper, I think I chose well.
“How did you know?” Noah looks at me, wide-eyed. “I love this guy’s music—I’ve wanted this album for years.” He looks at Sadie Lee questioningly.
“I didn’t tell her,” Sadie Lee says with a smile.
Noah and I look at each other and I mentally add “knowing exactly what to get him for Christmas” to my list of soul mate evidence.
After Noah slipped the record out to sniff it, he hands me a gift th
at has the same amount of tape as paper. “Sorry about all the tape,” he mumbles. “Gift wrapping isn’t my strongest suit.”
“That’s OK,” I say, trying to make a tear in the paper, but it’s impossible as it’s covered in so much tape. “Er, does anyone have a knife?”
In the end, with the help of the pointy end of a bottle opener, I manage to get into the parcel. Inside is a beautiful hardback book of old black-and-white photographs of New York.
“I thought with you being into photography and all . . .” I can tell from the hopeful way he’s looking at me that he really wants me to like it. “If you prefer more modern photography I can take it back and get it changed. I—”
“No, it’s perfect. Black-and-white photos are my favorite—they’re like little moments of history captured forever.”
We look at each other and I feel that closeness again, that sense that we already know each other. I get the overwhelming urge to kiss Noah. If only we weren’t surrounded by our families.
As if reading my mind, Noah gets to his feet. “Do you want to go get a soda?” he asks.
At least, that’s what I think he says. I’m so overcome by the need to kiss him I can barely hear a word. I nod and follow him out of the room. Thankfully the others are way too engrossed in their gifts to notice.
When we get out into the hallway, Noah stops by the grandfather clock. The huge pendulum seems to be ticktocking in time with my pounding heart.
“Penny, I . . .” Noah begins. He looks into my eyes and for once I don’t feel too embarrassed and look away.
“Penny,” he says again, cupping my face in his hands.
And then we’re kissing. And it feels as if my whole body, the entire world, has turned to stardust.
Chapter Thirty-Two
For the rest of Christmas Day, Noah and I take every opportunity to steal secret kisses. It’s like we’ve invented a new game—a kissing version of hide-and-seek—hide-and-kiss. By the time I clamber into my bunk bed, I feel drunk with happiness. This has been the best Christmas ever—apart from . . . I have one last check of my phone—still no message from Elliot.
The next morning I’m woken by a gentle tapping on the bedroom door. I creep down the ladder and out of bed. Bella is lying on her bottom bunk tucked up between Rosie and Princess Autumn, her ringlets fanned out on the pillow like a halo. I creep over and open the door.
Noah is standing in the hallway grinning. “Get dressed—we’re going out,” he whispers.
“What? But . . . what time is it?”
“Almost seven.”
“In the morning?”
“Yes, in the morning! Put something warm on. And bring your camera. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
I scramble into a pair of jeans and boots and my fleeciest sweatshirt and I head down to the kitchen. Noah’s over by the counter putting a couple of flasks into his bag. The beautiful smell of freshly roasted coffee is filling the room.
“All righty, let’s get going,” he says, as soon as he sees me.
“Where to?”
“This morning is about the only time of the year when New York actually goes to sleep,” Noah says, putting a note on the kitchen table. It reads, GONE FOR A WALK. BACK SOON, N & P. “I figured it would be the perfect time to show you some of the local sights.” He takes hold of my hand. “I want you to know more about where I’m from,” he says quietly. “Plus, I thought you might like to take some photos without a ton of other people getting in the way.”
I smile at him. “Thank you.”
It’s a perfect morning outside. Everywhere is covered in a fresh blanket of snow and there’s that weird muffled silence that it brings. Noah shows me his old school and his favorite café and the shop his mum used to take him to every Saturday to spend his pocket money on comics and candy. Then he takes me to the local park. Apart from a man in the distance, walking a dog, we’re the only people there and ours are the only footprints in the blanket of snow. Noah sits on one of the swings and gets a faraway look in his eye.
“My dad used to tell me that if you swung high enough it was possible to shoot off into outer space,” he says softly. “I used to believe him too!” He laughs. “Man, I used to swing my butt off trying to get into space.” He turns to look at me. “Why do we believe everything our parents tell us?”
I sit down on the swing next to him. “Because we love them? Because we want to? When I was little, my mum told me that my toys came to life every night while I was asleep. In the morning when I woke up I’d check in my tent and they’d all be in different positions to how I’d left them.”
“In your tent?”
I laugh. “Yes. I used to have a tent made out of blankets at the end of my bed. It was my favorite place to play. It made me feel all cozy and safe. My mum must have crawled in there every night to move the toys around. I think it’s good when parents tell us things like that. It makes life more magical.”
Noah nods. “I guess. But when what they tell us doesn’t come true . . .” He breaks off, a frown creasing his forehead.
“Then we have to find something else magical to believe in.”
Noah looks at me and smiles. “Yes, I like that.” He shifts his swing sideways till he’s right up close to mine. “I believe in you, Penny,” he says, looking into my eyes.
“I believe in you too.”
We look at each other for a second, then Noah pushes his swing back.
“Come on,” he calls. “Let’s see how high we can go.”
We don’t quite make it into outer space but we do get high enough to see right across the park to the rooftop of Noah’s house.
When we finally come back down to earth, we’re flush-faced and giggling.
Noah runs over to a seesaw and jumps on top of it. “I’m the king of the castle!” he yells. He looks so happy and cute I instantly reach for my camera.
“I’ve got to get a picture of you,” I call. “You look so funny.”
“Hmm, funny is not exactly the look I was going for,” Noah says with a frown.
“Really?” I say, taking the shot. “So what look were you going for?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Noah leaps down from the seesaw. “Thoughtful? Mysterious?” He comes and stands right in front of me. “The kind of guy you might want to, you know, kiss?”
My heart starts beating so fast I can practically feel my rib cage vibrating.
“Oh, you’re definitely all of those too,” I say quietly.
Noah looks at me. “Really?”
I nod. “Yes.”
The muffled snowy silence wraps itself around us like a blanket. And as he gently brushes the hair back from my face and leans in to kiss me, it feels as if we’re the only people awake and alive on the entire planet.
• • •
It’s not until the afternoon that I finally get a text from Elliot. As soon as I see it my heart sinks.
Happy Christmas. Hope you had a good one
I stare at the screen. Is that it? The lack of exclamation marks, emoticons, and kisses immediately makes me think that something is very wrong. I have to call him. While the others all watch The Wizard of Oz, I sneak up to Bella’s room and climb into my bunk. Thankfully this time, he picks up.
“Elliot, what’s wrong?”
“What do you mean, what’s wrong?”
“Your text—it was so blunt.”
“Well, maybe if you’d just spent the Christmas from hell with the parents from hell, you’d be feeling pretty blunt too.”
I feel a glimmer of relief that he might just be annoyed at his parents and not me. “Why didn’t you call me back? Or text me?”
There’s a long silence. It’s so long I think we might have lost the connection.
“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Elliot finally mutters.
“Interrupt what?”
There’s another silence.
“You told me he was just a holiday romance.”
Now it’s my turn to go silent
.
“He—I—it’s—I don’t know what it is.”
“You seem pretty clear about it on your blog.”
“No, I don’t. That’s why I blogged about it, because I’m not sure, because I’m confused.”
“So you’d rather talk to thousands of strangers about it than to me?”
“No! It’s just—you’re not here.”
“No—I’m not.”
“Oh, El, please.”
“Look, we’ll talk about it when you get home, all right?”
“All right. Well, I’ll see you next week then.”
“Yes. See you then.”
As I finish the call, my eyes fill with tears. Why, why, why can things never go right? Why, even when something truly amazing happens, does something crappy have to happen too? I’ve never fallen out with Elliot—not even come close to it. And now it feels as if I’m losing him and I don’t even know why. And then a terrible thought occurs to me. What if he doesn’t want to be friends anymore when I get back home? I’ll be miles away from Noah and I’ll have no best friend. I’ll have nobody. I hug my pillow to me and start to cry.
“Don’t be sad,” a squeaky little voice says, making me jump out of my skin. I roll over and see Princess Autumn hovering by the ladder at the end of the bed. Bella appears behind her and climbs up onto my bunk. “Every time you feel sad you should think of three happy things to chase the sad thing away,” she says to me, propping Princess Autumn up next to her. “Noah told me that one time when I got sad about my mom and dad.”
“That’s a great idea,” I say, wiping the tears from my face.
“So go on then,” Bella says, staring at me.
“What?”
“What are three things that make you happy?”
“You,” I say straightaway. “You make me very happy.”
Bella beams at me. “OK, that’s number one. What else?”
“Being here, in this house.”
She nods. “And number three?”
“Noah,” I mumble, my cheeks flushing.
“You make him happy too.”
I look at her. “Really?”