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i. denial
Of course Noora has a boyfriend. His name is William, and he loves her. He just lives in London, that’s all. He’s her very serious boyfriend who’d only sent her one text since she’s left, and that’s fine, that’s normal. They both need time to process. Every relationship has its rough patches.
Yeah, process with his dad and his stockbroker colleagues, the bitterness whispers, but she sucks in a deep breath and muffles her sigh with a pillow.
Eva is gentle as she tells Noora to move on, but what does she know? She’s with Chris, after all that drama back in their first year. Noora’s not the only one who can’t escape her ghosts. It makes her angry, watching Chris glue himself to Eva’s body like he’s earned it. Watching her laugh into his mouth, wrap an arm around the back of his neck. Watch them gravitate to each other as soon as Chris walks into Eva's party like they’ve found the truth of existence in each other’s mouths.
But Eva can make her own decisions, and Noora never wanted easy the way they have it.
Eva manages to steal away from Chris near midnight. “Come dance with me,” she pleads. She falls onto the couch next to Noora, draping an arm around her shoulders. Five people here have already asked her where William is – they’re still together right, wow they were so in love. Her head hurts. Wouldn’t she like to know the answers too.
Eva’s breath smells like her mother’s wine, and Noora’s halfway tempted. Throw back a few shots, dance a little, forget William for just one night. Sana had even talked her into picking up a tube of NARS’s Scarlet Empress for the occasion. It feels like false advertisement.
The first few bars of What Do You Mean start playing over the speakers, and Eva pokes her in the side. “It’s your boy. You have to dance now. Don’t let Justin down.”
“Justin may be good at a lot of things, but I doubt he knows what I'm doing on Friday nights - “ But Eva’s dragging her up by the hand already, her fingers like a vice. Eva places Noora’s hands on her hips as she throws her head back to the music. Her smile is contagious, and it tugs at the corners of Noora’s lips.
“See, you’re nodding your head yes,” Eva says, as Noora involuntarily begins to move with the beat. She sticks her tongue out in response.
Eva’s laugh can shake the whole room, and as Eva watches her, Noora feels a little invincible.
ii. anger
Sometimes, Noora thinks she’s never conquered the depths of her own anger. The hurt will eat her whole if she doesn’t package it up, turn it into words and facts and results. She’s at a loss with this free-floating ache in her bones, waiting for an explosion. Noora can plan for the aftermath, can pull the shrapnel from her body, but there’s no planning for the nothing.
Is she mad at William for not wanting her as much as she wants him? Or herself, for believing she was the one who could change him?
The truth is, she’s not special. She’s just another mediocre girl who thought she was dangerous enough to play with fire and didn’t live to tell the tale.
All she wants to do is scream William’s name and bring him back from London, back to the boy who’d loved her unconditionally. She itches to tear his dumb blazers apart thread by thread, cut holes in his fancy loafers. Smash his briefcase with a beer bottle, and when he finds her in the center of it all, she’ll bite out, I know the real you. They don’t.
That’s not the real Noora, though, who’s been through so much more than a boy who won’t call her back.
They’re in Chris’s cabin for the weekend when Noora asks, “When do I stop wanting to blame him for everything?” Vilde’s eyes fall down to her hands, and Noora’s never understood her more than in that moment.
Eva offers her a hot chocolate, and her hand on Noora's shoulder keeps some of the anger at bay. They've always grounded each other, and Noora can't help but think, if only William had made me feel like this, in the end.
But William and Eva are different people, and maybe that's a good thing.
“You can stop blaming him when he stops being the one to blame," Eva says simply.
iii. bargaining
Maybe if she hadn’t nagged him so much about spending time with her. His new job was stressful, she knew that, and he’d given up his entire life in Oslo. Maybe if she’d been more mature about it, less like a dumb teenager in love. Maybe if she had talked to him about it from the beginning, laid out her expectations with the full awareness that he could let her down.
Maybe if she’d loved him more, maybe if she’d loved herself less.
Five times, she nearly texts him that she’s coming back, and can he please pick her up from the airport? I love you, I never should’ve left, and we can work this out. I love you, I did leave, and I hate you a little bit.
Five times, she stops.
“Just text him an ‘H’,” Eva jokes. They’re watching Stranger Things on Noora’s couch, and she’s decided she hates this Steve kid. Who does he think he is with his nice hair and his money, swaggering around like he owns the place?
Eva continues, “It could mean anything from ‘hi I’m ready to talk’ to ‘hate your guts, hope you drown in your own loneliness xoxo Noora’. Leave him hanging. He deserves it.”
Noora snorts. “Somehow, I don’t think I’m going to get an answer from that. Has Chris heard from him?”
Eva shrugs. “We don’t really talk about that. We don’t really talk about much, to be honest.”
Noora can fill in the blanks. She pauses in the middle of the episode, when Jonathan and Nancy are about to head straight into danger in the woods. If only she were that brave.
Her voice grows serious as she faces Eva. “I’m happy for you, but what’s the appeal?”
“He’s just a friend. We have fun.”
Noora cocks her head. “That’s like saying you and I should hook up because we’re friends and we have fun together.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Suddenly, Eva hits her with the sofa pillow she’s been hiding behind her back. Noora’s so surprised that she lets go of the laptop, only for Eva to grab it out of her hands. As she presses play, she grumbles, “We were just getting to the good part – were you even paying attention?”
The episode continues, and it’s all very exciting, but Noora still manages to mutter, “Well, it doesn’t work like that.”
Eva isn’t even looking at her. Noora isn’t sure whether it was meant to be heard.
What if it does work like that? She’s been searching for love underneath the suffering. At this point, she feels like she’s cheating if she can have it without losing a little bit of herself in the process.
It may be as effortless as drinking apple cider with your best friend while watching teenagers make poor choices on Netflix. As simple as wanting to laugh with someone forever, but also kiss them too.
“You’re thinking too much again,” Eva says, nudging Noora’s arm with her shoulder. She hands over the giant bowl of popcorn. Against her better judgment, Eva had convinced her to drench it in chocolate syrup and caramel. “Here, have some of this and just watch the damn show. It’s much healthier for you.”
iv. depression
On New Year’s Eve, Noora can hardly move from the couch. Eskild calls Eva before Noora can stop him. She doesn’t want Eva to see her like this. Eva can’t pull her out of the depths of her own sadness, and Noora doesn’t want to give her that thankless job. If she’s being punished for daring to be happy, she’d rather weather it out alone.
But when Eva lingers at the door, Noora can’t turn her away. “This isn’t me. I can’t be this sad over William,” she says with the blankets drawn around her body. “He’s just some boy.”
Eva offers her a soft smile. “You’re allowed this. When Jonas and I broke up, I thought I’d never be myself again.”
“What made it stop?”
“You, the rest of the girls.” She gently shifts Noora’s legs out of the way to make room for herself on the couch. She reaches out her fingers, tentatively at first, but when Noora doesn’t move away, she strokes a hand through Noora’s hair. Her thumb brushes Noora’s cheek.
Noora melts into her touch, settling against her side. It’s all too effortless. “He’s not good for you. He doesn’t deserve you,” Eva says, like she actually believes it, like she somehow knows Noora better than she knows herself.
“So why does it still hurt?”
Eva wraps an arm around Noora’s waist to make her more comfortable. That’s it. Eva’s just being a supportive friend, but it doesn’t stop Noora’s breath from quickening.
Eva places her chin on top of Noora’s head. “Do you know how hard it was for me to talk to you for the first time? I thought you were, like, the coolest, most badass girl, and you’d never give me the time of day. I freaked out when you accepted my Facebook friend request, that was how nervous I was. If William doesn’t realize what he has, then it’s his loss.”
Noora chuckles, and it shakes off some of the ache. “Do you know how hard it was for me to talk to you? I saw you at school and thought you were an angsty hipster who was too good for everyone.”
“An angsty hipster,” Eva deadpans.
“The best kind of potential friend.”
Their friends start trickling in around eight for the New Year’s Eve party she’d promised them last week. Eskild offers them champagne even before they’ve made it through the door. Noora stays planted on the couch, and Eva only manages to convince her to let the blanket go by promising three whole Justin Bieber songs on the playlist, to Isak’s chagrin.
She hears him grumble, “We’re playing that one shitty Gabrielle song, though,” as he walks over to greet Even at the door with a kiss on the cheek. All her friends are so damn weird.
There’s a notable absence. “Where’s Chris?”
“I didn’t invite him. I wanted to spend New Year’s with a different friend,” Eva says. It’s the kind of confession that makes Noora’s head spin. There’s a beautiful girl standing in front of her asking for a yes and all Noora can give her is a maybe when the sadness seeps out of my bones.
At midnight, as the couples kiss and everyone else rolls their eyes, Eva leans over to take Noora’s hand. Noora squeezes back.
iv. acceptance
In the first week of January, Eskild starts pressuring her to make a Tinder again. “I have someone,” she insists.
“William’s not coming back.”
“I know,” she says, and she’s slipping out the door before he can keep interrogating her, grinning wide.
In the first week of January, Noora kisses Eva for the first time.
When Eva opens the door, surprise written across her face, Noora practically runs at her.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” she pants.
Eva’s mouth quirks. “Okay, I could live with that.”
They stay frozen on Eva’s doorstep, entwined. Noora presses so close they could both tear apart, kisses her so soft they could shatter.