The Before
I hear him before I see him.
Feet pounding on the metal stairs. Quick, heavy breaths. His low, frustrated swear when he undoubtedly loses one of his slides and has to hop back down to get it.
I smile. For some reason, he refuses to use the elevator. Even though it’s a lot less work to get here.
I’m in my favorite place: the clock tower at the top of the Santa Barbara County Courthouse.
In my favorite spot: the stone bench tucked underneath a teal-framed window.
The view is perfect. Deep blue skyline. Clouds drifting by like floating islands. The city, small and vast below. Me, far from its reach.
Here, I can think. No, write. Lyrics pour from my pen. I tap my fingers on a half-finished song while waiting for him to finally appear.
After a moment, his head pops up from the stairwell. Windswept brown hair, cheeks flushed pink. Wild green eyes search until our gazes meet.
London grins. “I knew I’d find you here!”
When he bends over to kiss me, my chest swells.
It’s not the first time he’s done this in public.
We’ve been together over a year. Everyone knows.
But there’s also no one around to see us.
It’s late afternoon. While the clock tower is a high-traffic tourist destination, very few people come around this time.
Especially not on a random Wednesday in February.
Which is why it’s my favorite time to come. Just me and my notebook and the ocean-salted breeze.
And sometimes London.
He plops onto the brick floor in front of me. Right on the painted white compass. Carelessly, he yanks off his messenger bag, fumbles with the flap, then drags a hand through his hair. He’s fidgety. Almost…nervous.
London’s never nervous.
My head tilts. “What’s wrong?”
He looks up, smiling weirdly. His eyes go to my notebook. “Can I see?”
Reflexively, my hand covers the page. I always share my songs with him. Even when they’re bad or silly. Not once has he laughed at me. Or offered polite critiques, like my dad, even though he knows nothing about music.
But more and more, my lyrics have been about…him.
It’s not intentional. It just happens.
I clear my throat. “I’m not finished.”
“So? That’s never stopped you before.”
Heat gathers behind my jaw. He’s right. But I’m not ready for him to see these.
Squinting at him, I say, “Are you deflecting?”
London squirms a little. I laugh. He wiggles one of his slides off to toss at me, half-heartedly.
“What is it?” I ask him, serious.
He stretches out his legs. He’s getting so tall now, nearly my height. That’s not the only thing I notice. His shoulders are widening. Soft hairs are growing in thicker along his sun-kissed calves.
Occasionally, I have to stop myself from staring. From wanting to see how high the hair goes. We haven’t taken things that far yet.
His mouth curves up. “I’ve decided where I want to go to college.”
My eyes widen. “Already?”
We’re only sophomores. But I shouldn’t be surprised. This is London. He loves to plan. Constantly thinking ahead.
College is still two years away. I haven’t considered where I’d go. If I’d go. My parents bring it up casually, but they know me. I like to live things day to day.
I’ve tried to be more like London. But I’m not on his level. Not even close.
He nods, still beaming.
“Where?” I ask through the lump in my throat.
I’m scared of his answer. He’s brilliant. And he works hard. Any university would beg to have him. He could go anywhere.
London leans back, gesturing to his hoodie. I study it. I guess I wasn’t really paying attention before. When he first arrived. I was too distracted by the sunlight against his face to care about what he’s wearing.
Now I see it. The familiar navy color. Blocky yellow letters stamped across his chest.
UCSB.
My heart clenches. “Here?” The word struggles to make it past my tongue. “You’re gonna stay here? In Santa Barbara?”
His smile splits his face. “They have a great engineering program. And aquatic biology. Mathematics too.”
That’s one thing London hasn’t decided in advance—his major. I’m sure it’s coming soon.
“That sounds great,” I tell him, muting the shock still buzzing through me.
He tips his head back. Those green eyes hold me still. “You need to think about where you want to go too.”
I shake my head, chuckling. “There’s still time.”
London frowns. “True, but not much. There’s the SATs. Early admissions. Picking the right classes for junior and senior year. Application fees and financial aid—”
The more things he lists, the farther my shoulders fall. He’s thought about all these things. All I’ve thought about is my next song. Remembering to shower. The way London’s hand feels in mine and how his mouth looks right after I kiss him.
“You can’t just do what you always do,” London warns gently.
He means wait until the last second. Or when it feels right to me.
Swallowing, I nod. “What should I do?”
It’s a question I ask him a lot lately. London always has a solution.
His smile returns, bright and dreamy. “I have an idea.”
He tugs something out of his bag. Carefully, he tosses it to me. I catch it, almost knocking over my notebook.
The cotton is soft between my fingers. It’s a similar shade of navy. My pulse jumps as a gasp frees itself from my mouth when I unfold the sweatshirt.
Yellow letters spell out UCSB.
“Come with me,” London says before I can process anything. Before the impact fully settles.
He’s crouched in front of me. His thumb traces the bracelet around my wrist. Our faces are inches away.
“What?” I say, breathless.
“Let’s go together.”
I stare into his eyes. See the want, the excitement. It’s overwhelming and still so inviting.
“How—”
He cuts me off. “I have a plan.”
Of course he does.
London tells me everything. The things I need to do. The steps to take. What I’ll have to talk to my parents about. Then he makes me write it all down.
I do with a trembling hand.
After, with the sun steadily falling behind him, London says, “What do you think?”
It’s a heavy question. One that I don’t have an instant answer for. London wants me to come with him to college. He sees us being together past high school. A future.
That’s what I want too.
“Well?”
I kiss him. It’s the only answer that matters.