They always say that just before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. But when Noah fell, with my helpless against gravity to save him, our life flashed before my eyes. Our first kiss, the first time he told me he loved me, that time in first grade when he ran up to me, out of breath, giving me my lucky pink pencil with Massie etched in the side, when I realized that I had a crush on him.
Oh, and one other thing popped into my head. A word.
Noah and I weren’t married, of course, since we were only seventeen, but there’s only one word that would describe the loss I would feel when he died.
Noah’s always been mine. I truley believed that I would never give him up. But when I saw him, falling and sat in that pool of red around him, I thought that, for once, I might not have a choice.
Three Weeks Earlier
A hot blush crept into my cheeks when Noah, with his dark eyes and light brown hair, smiled up at me from his textbook. Under the table, he grabbed my hand and slipped me a note. I opened it nervously and read it what must have been a thousand times over.
I love you.
This wasn’t the first time he’s said those words to me, but each time he said them or wrote them or even looked at me with that twinkle in his eye, I felt that same rush I had the very first time he said it. And every time he said those beautiful three words, I knew that he meant them.
After school, he ran up to me in the freezing weather, cheeks a blaze much like mine had been earlier.
I pulled him down to my short 5’3” height and kissed his cheek, slowly and sweetly.
“I love you too.” I said.
And I really meant it.