Page 10 of Two Weeks to Fall in Love

Two Weeks to Change the World

My mom glanced at me from above her book in surprise. “You’re going already? But Melissa didn’t ring the doorbell yet.”

I flinched at my mother’s perception. Seeing as how Melissa had been picking me up ever since she’d gotten her license, and she’d always stop by to say hi to my mom, it was an odd change to our routine.

“Um, she just texted me that she’s close, but I want to be at school early so I’m meeting her outside,” I mumbled quickly, hoping that this not-so-little white lie would satisfy her.

My mom narrowed her eyes for a moment before lifting her book again. “She really shouldn’t be texting when driving, you know.”

“Oh, yeah, I know, I’ll tell her. Bye, Mom!” Taking large steps, I made my way to the front door, and out into the crisp morning air.

I hated lying to her. Outside of having some kind of sixth sense for these things, Mom had been trying her best in the last few years to be the shoulder I could rely and cry on, since she’d been away so often when I was a kid.

And even though she spent way more time at home with me now, I could tell how much she missed joining Dad on work trips.

And a part of me would always feel guilty about that.

My heart clenched at the memories that surged, and I lightly punched my chest with my fist.

Shaking the tough thoughts off, I walked down the driveway, reaching the road just as Noah’s car turned the corner onto my street.

Mr. Right on Time. He stopped directly in front of me, and I rounded the car to the passenger side.

As soon as I opened the door, I noticed the scent of mild perfume.

Or was that cologne? It wasn’t like I spent enough time around guys to actually be able to tell the difference.

Trying to inconspicuously inhale more of whatever that scent was, I glanced at him. “Morning.”

Noah grinned, his pearly-white teeth on full display. “Morning, gorgeous.” It was way too early in the morning for that annoyingly cheerful, beaming expression of his. I just groaned in response and slammed my head against the headrest.

“Rough night?” Noah glanced at me as he started driving.

“And whose fault do you think that—” I started, before I realized that I had played right into his hands. Narrowing my eyes, I threw him a nasty look.

“Glad to hear I’m keeping you up already.” He chuckled, eyes focused on the road and a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his annoying face.

It was 7:20 in the morning and I already wanted to strangle him. This was going to be a long day .

*

Seconds felt like hours on the car ride. It felt like Noah was purposefully driving slower than usual. He was humming a song playing from the radio, as I anxiously thrummed my fingers against my knees.

“So, what’s the next question?” Might as well get something out of this eternal ride to school.

I saw his eyes widen a little, but luckily, he kept his focus on the road. “Aren’t you an eager one.” There was amusement in his voice, as if I was just as much of an enigma to him as he was to me. Good . I didn’t need him to know me.

Clicking my tongue, I murmured, “I just want to get through them all.” And learn all your secrets .

Perhaps I should have worded it differently.

Maybe saying I was eager to get to know more about him would have sounded sexier.

I’d been dating Noah for one day, and I was already becoming painfully aware of how much I absolutely sucked at dating.

Probably should have read some seduction articles before I decided to date the most popular guy at school.

I was coming across as more of a Nancy Drew than a femme fatale.

Suddenly, my torrent of self-deprecating thoughts was interrupted by loud laughter. Noah was laughing at me. Even though I had fully expected him to be annoyed at my angtsy behavior. What was wrong with this guy?

“You do know this isn’t an exam, right? I’m not gonna grade you at the end of it.” He glanced at me and shook his head, seemingly enjoying my odd behavior.

“Aren’t you, though? Your little questions test has only two grades: pass or fail. You’re either in love or you’re not. Or am I wrong?”

Noah’s lips ticked up. He threw another look at me and tapped his fingers on the wheel. “When you put it like that, I guess you’re right, Fox.”

A surprising sense of accomplishment spread through me upon hearing that, even though I already knew I was right and didn’t need his confirmation. So then why did it feel so good to get it?

Shaking my head, I narrowed my eyes at him. My willpower was stronger than his charm, and I wasn’t going to let myself be swayed by it.

“So, what’s the next question?” I asked again, crossing my hands over my chest.

Noah let out a long sigh, realizing that I wasn’t giving up. “Fine. We’ll do only one, though,” he said, and tapped his chin. “If you could be famous, what would it be for?”

After he asked the question, I stayed quiet. When a few more moments passed, Noah glanced at me and frowned. “Well?”

“Well, I answered the last question first, so now it’s your turn,” I replied, raising an eyebrow.

Noah just chuckled and nodded in response. “Fair.” Then he went quiet, as if he was trying to frame the answer in his head. “I’d like to be famous for my music.”

Surprising. Mainly because I had no idea he was interested in music or knew how to play an instrument. But then again, I did know very little about him.

“I thought you were into science,” I muttered, unable to filter out my thoughts.

“I am.” He gave a curt reply. Not that I deserved a better one for that stupid comment.

Clearing my throat, I tried again. “What do you play?”

“Lots of things. Guitar, drums, bass, piano . . .” He hummed out the words and trailed off, his tone making it obvious that he’d answered this question many times before. Probably in the same exact way.

“So, you want to be a famous musician?” I said nonchalantly.

The corner of his lip pulled up again and he shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”

“Then a producer?”

He shook his head again.

“A manager,” I tried, a shot in the dark.

“Nah.” Noah chuckled, briefly glancing at me and my furrowed brows. “You look cute when you’re confused.”

I blushed instantly, unsure of whether it was because of his unexpected comment or my inability to grasp the right answer.

“Oh, I know!” I snapped my fingers in victory, so convinced that I finally had it right. “A songwriter!”

“Nope.”

Another hit and miss. I thought about it for a few moments but ended up with a blank. I leaned my head back on the seat and stared at him. “I give up. What did you mean by wanting to be famous for your music?”

Noah’s smile widened. “It might not seem like it, but there’s kind of a science to creating music.

Of course, it’s a very individual thing as well.

One song can create completely different reactions for different people,” he explained, glancing at me.

When he seemed satisfied by my undivided attention, he continued.

“Some people say music is simple. That the four-chord music theory is all you need if you want to make hits.

But my theory is that there has to be something underneath it all, something that unites us.

I mean, many believe music existed before language.

“Certain songs are universally loved. They evoke emotions even in the least emotional people. They can change you at your core.” Noah paused as he pulled into the school parking lot.

“So that’s what I want to do. I want to study that and try to find a formula that can create songs that will change people. Make them happy and give them comfort.”

Noah Archer and his formulas for a happy life . I was kind of impressed. Maybe it was how mature he sounded when he spoke about it, or the fact that he seemed so sure of himself, but it seemed to me that if anyone could crack the code to music, it would be him.

“That’s very inspiring, actually.” I spoke in a low voice after a few thoughtful seconds, and heard him chuckle.

“Aw, you’ll make me blush, Fox. Coming from you that’s basically a standing ovation,” Noah said as he parked the car and turned to focus the full intensity of his gaze on me.

“Yeah, don’t let it get to your head,” I grumbled, fully aware that his ego was already too big.

Suddenly exhausted before school even started, I was turning to open the door when I felt his hand gently wrap around my wrist.

Noah playfully clicked his tongue, “Not so fast, Fox. Your turn to answer the question.” He raised one eyebrow, a smirk plastered on his charming face, and I let out a sigh.

“We’re gonna be late to class!” I tried in vain as he shrugged at me.

“Better talk fast, then,” Noah replied, wiggling his eyebrows.

Groaning, I settled back into the seat. As someone who tried to stay out of the spotlight most of the time, I didn’t really consider the concept of fame as something I would seek out, so this was a tough one.

Finally I said, “I’ve wanted to be a journalist for years now, so I guess I’d like to be known more so than famous. Then again, fame could be useful too—ah, I’m just not sure,” I said, running a hand through my hair.

“Hmm, elaborate please,” he asked, seemingly unsatisfied with my confusing answer.

“Well, fame usually comes with power, right? So, people who have fame can use their voice to make a difference, they can stand up for what they believe in, they can fight against injustice and help people do better . With fame you can change the world or you can ruin it,” I said, gazing at the crowd of people surrounding the parking lot.

Maybe some of them would become famous one day. Would they use it for good or for bad?

Noah rubbed his chin and nodded. “So, we both want to change the world,” he concluded, bumping my shoulder with his. “Can’t say we’re not ambitious.”

“ Delusional sounds more like it,” I snorted, rolling my eyes at him.