Page 40 of Two Weeks to Fall in Love

Two Weeks to Learn the Truth

Nervous didn’t even begin to cover it. I’d been standing at his front door for fifteen minutes already and I still hadn’t rung the doorbell. Taking in a deep breath, I steeled myself and rang the bell. The muffled sound echoed through the house, and within moments footsteps followed.

Noah opened the door. My stomach dropped. His face was pale, and the dark circles under his eyes made it look like he hadn’t slept in days. I didn’t know what I’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this.

“Hey, come on in.” He ran a hand through his messy hair and stepped aside.

My legs felt wooden as I walked past him. Normally, I’d be gawking at his house—almost as big as the one the party was held, yet infinitely homier—but now all I could do was stare into empty space.

Was he sick? Was my overactive thinking right this time?

I felt nauseated. My nerves had stopped me from eating a lot for lunch, but now the little I had eaten threatened to come back up.

“Want anything to drink? Tea? Coffee? Juice?” he asked, leading me into a huge open-space living room with a spacious couch.

“Water is good.”

Noah nodded and went into the kitchen. I heard the fridge open and close. My eyes stayed focused on the glass table in front of me, hands clenched together in my lap.

“Here you go.”

I muttered a thank-you while downing almost half the glass. The couch dipped as Noah sat down next to me. Silence stretched. I avoided eye contact.

“Look that bad, huh?” Noah said, and I looked up at him instantly. He had a half smile on his face and was rubbing his nape with his hand.

“Yes. No! I just didn’t expect—” I had no idea what to say or how to say it. “Are you okay?”

Dumb question . He was clearly very much not okay. It was the only thing I could think to ask, though, because seeing him now, it was the only thing that mattered.

“I don’t know. I should be used to it by now but—” He sighed and shook his head. “No. You never get used to it, I think.”

Noah suddenly stood up and started pacing next to the couch. He stopped, looked at me, and frowned.

“Do you mind if I walk around?” he asked, and I shook my head.

“Not at all.”

“Right. Good. That’s good.” And then the pacing continued. Several moments passed in silence before he stilled and finally spoke.

“So, my mom’s dying.”

It felt like I just got punched in the gut. The oxygen in the air somehow felt thicker. Harder to inhale. My mouth opened. No words came out. It closed again. I had no idea what someone was supposed to say to something like that.

“I mean, she’s been dying for years. Pleural mesothelioma.” Noah looked at me and rubbed the back of his head. “It’s, uh, a type of cancer. Some days it’s especially bad. Like now, she’s back at the hospital with an infection.” His voice sounded choked up.

My heart had never felt this heavy. I’d imagined a thousand things in the last two days, but this wasn’t even close to what my brain had concocted.

Suddenly, so much made sense. So many of his previous statements that had seemed weird or unexpected crystallized in my mind.

The way he thought about life and time and existence.

This boy who wasn’t a mystery because he thought it made him cool, but because it was necessary. It was a matter of survival. Because living every day with people looking at you in pity would remind you exactly of what you were about to lose.

“Noah,” I choked out, my hands shaking. “I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorr—”

He shook his head, lips pursed together in obvious pain. “Don’t. Please. You don’t have to say anything. I just thought you were right. You should know what’s happening when I disappear.”

“Thank you. Thank you for sharing this with me,” I said, having to tell him at least that much.

Noah swallowed hard and nodded, finally walking back to sit down on the couch next to me.

A part of me wanted to reach out and take his hand.

Give him at least some physical comfort for the pain I could feel radiating from every pore in his body.

But I didn’t know if that would be the right thing to do.

I’d never felt less experienced in life than I did at that moment.

We learned so much in school, but no one had ever taught us how to deal with loss. How to comfort others. How to make someone feel better when they were dying inside. Those were all things we had to figure out by ourselves. Through trial and error and questions and answers.

And so, I asked him.

“Can I hold your hand?”

He looked at me in surprise. I couldn’t tell if the surprise was because I wanted to hold his hand or because I had asked him before invading his personal space while he was at his most vulnerable. Maybe it was both.

Instead of answering, Noah scooted closer on the couch, took my hand in his and entwined our fingers.

I gave him a tight squeeze and he squeezed back.

We sat in silence then, but not the uncomfortable, awkward kind.

It felt more like no words were needed at that moment.

That the warmth that coursed through our joined hands said more than empty words ever could.

After some time, he let out a sigh and relaxed, head leaning against the back of the sofa.

“You know, she’s the reason I’m doing this. Trying to find love.”

“Really?” I asked, even though in a way I had already guessed that.

“Yeah,” he said, turning his head to look at me.

“A year ago I was arguing with Tara. Told her love was bullshit and she was an idiot for still believing in it. I didn’t know Mom had heard, but she ended up in the hospital a week later, again.

When I went to visit her, she broke down, crying about how she didn’t want to leave me alone in a world without love.

That she was scared of the life I’d live if it was one where I didn’t even believe in love. ”

And then Noah laughed—a choked-up, frustrated laugh. “Dying, and still a hopeless romantic. Imagine that.”

“She’s probably just worried because she loves you,” I said quietly, realizing how heavy the word love actually was in his life.

Noah smiled that half smile that could break a heart and nodded. “Yeah. I know. That’s why I’m doing this. I don’t want her to die worried about me. I just didn’t know what to do, and then Mom’s old journal just magically appeared on my desk.”

A small gasp left my lips involuntarily, and my eyes widened. “That was your mom’s journal? The one with the questions?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I think she wanted me to find it. Maybe she hoped her musings on love would inspire me. I don’t think she expected I’d do what I did, though.”

“The two-week dating experiment?”

The corner of his lips lifting in amusement at my words. “I guess you can call it that. I just wanted a quick and efficient way to fall in love. It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Noah finished with a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“I had no idea this was so personal to you,” I said, feeling guilty that I’d ever thought it was just a game for him.

Even without them knowing, he was sharing such a personal piece of his life with all the girls he’d dated.

Maybe that was why no one ended their two weeks with bitterness in their hearts.

“It just felt like I owed it to Mom to try. That journal was like her blueprint for love. It made me realize how much journaling actually meant to her. I figured even if I didn’t fall in love, I could pretend to, so that she could be at peace.” Then he stopped speaking and frowned. “Is that wrong?”

“No. No, I don’t think anyone could judge you for that.” I shook my head vehemently.

In all honesty, even though I was very much against lying, I probably would have done the same in his situation. At least he was trying to find love and was keeping the pretend option as a last resort. A question popped into my mind.

“Do your friends know?” After all, he’d said they were teasing him about the whole finding love thing. If they knew the actual reason, it didn’t seem possible they would make fun of it.

“No. Not really.” He shook his head and tilted it to the side. “I mean, they know about my mom being sick, of course. But not the reason why I’ve been dating so much. They think it’s just an unhealthy coping mechanism or something.”

“How long has she been sick?” I asked, and then realized I probably shouldn’t be prying into that. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind. It’s been almost three years now.”

“Three years? But isn’t that when—” I started and then immediately stopped. Sometimes my mouth worked faster than my brain.

“Yup. She found out after the whole cheating incident happened. That’s why they didn’t get a divorce,” Noah said, and shook his head, disdain seeping into his voice. “My dad’s an asshole but apparently not the kind of asshole who would divorce a dying woman.”

But that wasn’t really what I’d been about to say.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place.

Why the boy I’d gotten to know these past days seemed nothing like the boy I’d briefly talked to at the hospital.

Almost three years ago. The worst day of my life was, as it turned out, the worst day of his life as well.

I’d held such resentment over what he’d said back then.

Resentment because he’d never apologized later, never even acknowledged our conversation.

It never crossed my mind to think about his point of view.

That maybe he was also distraught, maybe he wasn’t thinking clearly, maybe he was just lashing out because I’d caught him at the worst moment.

Maybe everything I thought I knew about Noah Archer was all wrong.

“That’s so messed up,” I whispered, unsure whether my comment was a reply to what he’d said or what I’d just realized.

Noah shrugged and gave my hand a light squeeze. “You know, you can ask if you have more questions.”

I shook my head. It would take some time to even process everything, let alone formulate more questions. Besides, he looked so tired.

Time for a distraction .

“Do you maybe want to watch a movie?” I suggested, and then my eyes fell on his PlayStation 5. “Or we could play something?”

His grinned at that, eyes flicking from his gaming console to me. “You play?”

“Very badly, yes. So if you don’t mind winning . . .” I grimaced and Noah laughed.

The sound made my heart skip a beat, and I felt my body relax ever so slightly.

“You’re in luck. I’m actually really good at winning.”

“Why am I not surprised?” I rolled my eyes.

He beamed back at me, wiggled his eyebrows, and jumped off the couch and toward where the video games were. After some rummaging he held up one called Mortal Kombat and I shrugged.

“Bring it on.”

*

“I thought you said you were horrible at this.”

“I did, I am!” I yelled back excitedly.

Noah narrowed his eyes and motioned to the huge screen where I was absolutely kicking his ass. He was in shock. I was in shock. It felt as if even the characters on the screen were in shock.

“I’m literally just pressing all of the buttons.” And somehow getting all the cool attack combos. Luck was on my side today, it seemed.

Noah snorted, and then his hand was covering my eyes.

“Hey, hey, that’s cheating!” I laughed, trying to move my head enough to get rid of his hand while still wildly clicking the buttons.

“This is chaos,” Noah muttered, but I heard the grin in his voice.

“That’s my middle name, baby,” I joked back, and then the sound that signified the end of the round echoed.

I used one hand to move his fingers from my eyes so I could see. My character stood victorious.

“Yes!” I jumped up and threw my fists in the air.

Peeking back at Noah, I could have sworn the tips of his ears were red. Then he groaned and leaned his head back, covering his face with his hands, clearly accepting his defeat. Grinning, I did a little dance. I was so into my routine I didn’t even notice he’d moved to stand in front of me.

“Okay, rematch,” he said, dropping his voice just enough to make my breath hitch.

Shaking my head, I playfully wagged my index finger in a nope movement, excitement bubbling in my chest. He narrowed his eyes, and in a flash the whole atmosphere instantly charged.

Noah grabbed my hands and pinned them against my back in what felt like a second. His body was pressed close against mine and I inhaled sharply. His eyes widened, as if he hadn’t realized what he was doing while he was doing it.

My heartbeat increased; suddenly I was feeling feverish. Ever so slowly, Noah let go of my hands, breathing quicker than a second ago. Or was that me?

His gaze fell from my eyes to my lips, and he leaned closer. He placed his palm on my cheek, his thumb gently brushing against it. Just when I thought he was about to kiss me, he frustrated the hell out of me by stopping.

“Can I—”

I went on my tiptoes and pressed my lips against his.

Instantly, his other arm went around my waist and pulled me tight against him. My hand swept up his chest and I rested it against his nape.

There was an urgency to the kiss now, an intimacy that hadn’t been there at the party. This desire to get as close as possible to one another had us tangling our arms around each other until there was no space between us.

And then, as we moved awkwardly, I tripped on the side of the table and landed flat on my back on the couch. With Noah falling on top of me. He instantly lifted himself on his elbows, looking over my face in concern.

I laughed, from joy and awkwardness and the multitude of emotions coursing through my body. When Noah realized I was fine, he laughed along with me.

“This is the second time you’ve had me fall for you already,” he said, grinning as he looked into my eyes.

My laughter slowly faded, the air around us electrifying again. Noah brushed his fingers against my cheek lightly. I inhaled, my eyes darting toward his lips involuntarily.

As if that was a silent cue, he leaned back down and kissed me again.