"I feel a little rush, I think I've got a little crush on you." -Crush, Yuna ft Usher

The day I walked into my college campus, I promised myself two things: That I'd lose weight and get straight A's. Only one of those promises was easy to keep.

Throughout my freshmen year, I didn't date, didn't party, didn't do whatever college students did that brought them gratification in a normal, fun way. I avoided what I reckoned would be distraction like the plague. I didn't drink because alcohol smelled like poison to me. Why would I drink something that smelled so... noxious? I hated parties because multiple people, dancing, emitting sweat, dirt, and germs everywhere, seemed very unhygienic. And also, being a living, breathing vessel for STIs wasn't appealing to me.

The first semester of Freshmen year was the hardest. I made the colossal mistake of housing in the assigned dorms on campus, and I was stuck with a loud roommate and a bed adjacent to the door. I kept getting woken up in the middle of the night when she came home drunk. The second semester was much bearable. By that time, I knew what to do and what not to do. Well, not entirely, but comparatively. Getting used to the environment, having friends, and being familiar with the courses definitely helped. I had classes with the infamous professor McSpitit again but, I was smart enough to foresee the debacle and sit in the middle aisle. Long story short, my skin wasn't exposed to unnecessary bacteria disguised in saliva. What was it they say? Fool me once...? 

Sophomore year had been cutthroat. Though I stayed true to myself and maintained my grade A average, losing weight was another story. I was constantly pulling all-nighters, which meant more time for late-night snacks, which meant, hello belly rolls and double chin. Standing at just 5 feet tall, weight seemed to just naturally accumulate on my body. I was almost 140lbs, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't care. It made me a little self-conscious, but I had little time on my hands to micro analyze those things like I used to. I was stressed enough with school.

My fixation on my weight started when I was very young. We were calculating our BMIs during health class in high school when the calculation confirmed my suspicion. I was indeed a little overweight for my height. I wasn't embarrassed so to speak, but I was made aware of it, rather passively. I immediately joined our school's track team and started running every morning. That was how I had maintained my weight for years. I somehow found solace in running, but since moving to LA for college, I hadn't been able to run like I used to, if at all. First, the unfamiliarity of my new living arrangement made it hard for me to naively go out and run alone. Then, school load increased, forcing me to give up on my habit once and for all, which resulted in me putting on some weight.

I had just started my second semester of sophomore year when Noah and I started talking. There was a lot on my plate, and it was the busiest year of my life. I was majoring In Integrative Biology and Physiology and minoring in Spanish and ASL. My Saturdays and Sundays were reserved for my shift at Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center, where I volunteered. I didn't get to have summer break because I had signed up for summer classes, and instead of going back home for my spring break, I had stayed and picked up more shifts at the hospital. Good thing that I didn't have to work because I was on a full-ride, and my parents were kind enough to support me financially.

In case it wasn't clear enough, I didn't get many breaks, and the few ones I got, I used for school-related purposes. I was committed to fulfilling my pre-requirements for medical school as early as possible and becoming not just a doctor but the best neurosurgeon the country had seen. I knew it was going to happen, but that day couldn't come sooner. 

While classes got tougher during sophomore year, life got easier. Since I had something to look forward to at the end of my days, chatting with a certain someone to be exact. I would run home from my classes, excited to tell Noah what I had learned about that day. Sharing my knowledge with him was something I enjoyed the most because he was so insightful. I knew he especially loved Thursdays because I had my gross anatomy labs then. After hours of dissecting cadavers and learning about muscles and internal organs, I would go home and tell him all about the cool things I got to touch and explore. Granted, he got exasperated and grossed out. Regardless, he'd take a calming breath and urge me to continue. That was his guilty pleasure, and I valued the fact that it was something that had to do with me. Those were my favorite moments with him.

Noah made me feel smart. I loved it when people made it known that they knew I was smart, because I was. Not to be conceited or anything, but I got 98% in biostatistics. BIOSTATISTICS.

Thursday, April 4th, 2013

2:51 PM

Noah Thompson: Listen to this song and LMK what you think.

(Attachment- SoundCloud link)

May Van de Kamp: On a break, will listen to it later.

Noah Thompson: Alight. You doing gross things?

May Van de Kamp: haha, if by "gross things" you mean saving a life, yes!

May Van de Kamp: I'm doing my CPR training.

Noah Thompson: That's a little misleading, seeing as how you're only inflicting pain on a dummy and not saving a life at all.

May Van de Kamp: I'm only inflicting pain so that I'd be able to save lives one day.

Noah Thompson: Good thing it's just a dummy.

May van de Kamp: Anne has feelings, don't call her a dummy, you jerk.

May Van de Kamp: Also, Mannequin = no life, no life = no pain receptors, no pain receptors = no pain. Therefore, I'm not inflicting pain. Get your facts straight.

Noah Thompson: hmm, if mannequin = no life, no life = no pain receptors, no pain receptors = no pain, then that means, no pain = no feelings, no feelings = dummy, Therefore, Anne is a dummy. Get YOUR facts straight.

May Van de Kamp: My patience is wearing thin.

Noah Thompson: Lmao. Don't take it out on poor Anne.

May Van de Kamp: Oh, you hush. Would you rather I take it out on you?

Noah Thompson: What kind of "taking out" are we talking about here? I'm a decent guy, I'd volunteer my body for medical purposes any time.

Noah Thompson: ...but only if the taking out is done by you.

May Van de Kamp: hahah I'll be sure to do it on you once I get certified by the AHA.

Noah Thompson: Oh damn. That's fucking hot.

May Van de Kamp: What's hot? You lying lifeless and me doing frantic compressions while poorly singing "staying alive"??

Noah Thompson: No, you giving me mouth to mouth.

May Van de Kamp: Gross. FYI, mouth-to-mouth resuscitation has been removed from CPR a long time ago.

Noah Thompson: I don't care. If I'm dying, I better die with your mouth latched on to mine.

May Van de Kamp: Ew! You need to rinse your mouth with hydrogen peroxide.

May Van de Kamp: Instructor's here, talk to you Later. Byeeee.

May Van de Kamp: Also, I wouldn't let you die. You fool.

Noah Thompson: You'd only bruise my ego, right?

Noah Thompson:  Okay! See ya! Call me when you get home. 

I was on my way home from the training that afternoon when I took my phone out of my backpack to dial Noah like I had promised. Realizing we had never exchanged phone numbers, I sent him a voice note on messenger.

"Hey you! You said to call you when I finished saving lives, and since I don't have your number, I thought a voice message was as close as it got to a phone call?"

It was a question.

My voice was squeaky.

I was nervous.

We had never used voice messages before. I didn't know what made me decide to do such an embarrassing thing. I cleared my throat and continued, "Anyway, I'm heading home... This is awkward, um... kay, bye?... Oh, and I love the music you sent me. I really do.... you're great at that. Making music. Phenomenal, Astonishing. Don't forget me when you're famous. Ha-ha, okay, I'm going to hit stop now. bye."

Not even a full minute later, he texted me.

Noah Thompson: Whoa! That's what you sound like? Damn.

May Van de Kamp: Way to feed my anxiety.

Noah Thompson: I'm addicted to your voice already.

May Van de Kamp: Okay, you, big, whiney cheese ball.

Noah Thompson: Okay, you phenomenal, astonishing, sweet-talking mozzarella stick.

May Van de Kamp: Stop. Eww.

Noah Thompson: I know you're blushing.

And I was. Blushing like I suffer from Idiopathic craniofacial erythema. He was a big flirt, and my poor, gullible heart couldn't take any more of his flattery. I wasn't used to attention at all, let alone one that was as grand as his. He had his way with words; it was like he laced his sentences with sugar.

He was so sweet; I was on a sugar rush.

Over the weekend, Noah and I exchanged our phone numbers and talked on the phone a few times. He really was addicted to my voice because he kept asking me to read a line from my favorite books while he was on the phone with me. He even sent some tongue twisters, and we took turns laughing at the funny ways we botched the words. We talked with different accents, made funny noises, and fooled around. At first, it was awkward and new, but he seemed to enjoy talking to me, so I had let loose. Usually, I was uptight, but Noah had a comforting aura to him. I guess that made it easier for me to do everything he asked of me.

Monday, April 8th, 2013

2:45 AM

Noah: U up?

Me: Yup

Noah: Can't sleep. Wyd?

Me: Studying 

(Picture attachment: A pouty May with a pen sticking out of her mouth.)

Noah: Poor thing, want me to come and take you away? A sweet escape? lmao

Me: Hmm, someone had time today.

Noah: I may or may not have gone through all 127 of your tweets.

Noah: I found out a lot about you today... like, how "OBSESSED" you were with One Direction.

Me: umm, I don't like where this is going.

Noah: and how much you "DESPISED" watching Titanic

Me: Go to bed, Noah.

Noah: and how you wanted them to give you your time back.

Me: I hate you.

Noah: Lmaoooo!!!! Your time???? Really, Mer??

Noah: I'm dying

Noah: You're the only girl I know who didn't like titanic though.

Noah: and you made a whole thread on why you thought the movie, Romeo, and Juliet was inappropriate for young audiences because of the message it relayed.

Noah: You're something else.

Me: Are you done embarrassing me?

Noah: Not even close. What do you have to say for yourself?

Me: All I've got to say is that I took twitter way too seriously.

Noah: A politician's page has more life to it than yours.

Noah: I thought it was a different May, A middle-aged woman that just laid her cat to the ground.

Me: har har har

Me: Night, weirdo.

Noah: Night, Mer.

Me: That sounded like Nightmare. Night!

...

I grew up in a small town called Maywood in New Jersey. I had lived in the same house, same town, same city, and same country all my life. Well, until I moved to LA for college. Change wasn't something me and my family liked very much. Maywood was a beautiful town where everyone knew everyone. We were neighbors with our teachers and classmates with our neighbors. We ran into our principal at the farmer's market. We went to the same malls, same grocery stores, and same carnivals with our teachers. There was only one public middle school and one private middle school in town so, it was a tight-knit community with so many familiar faces.

Noah, his brother, and I had attended the same public middle school from pre-k to eighth grade. We might have even gone to each other's birthday parties when we were very young, we just don't have a recollection of it. We frequented the same hang-out spots in town when we were little. It was impossible to not know of each other. After middle school, Noah's family moved away. Not far, just a few towns over. And my family decided to enroll me in private school. We attended different high schools, and I hadn't seen Noah since. Never even bumped into him at the mall or in a parking lot.

Noah was still in New Jersey, getting his undergrad in Business Management at Montclair State University. And working part-time at his father's car dealership company, which he was expected to take over, though, he did not plan on doing so anytime soon. He was committed to composing beats and selling them to up-and-coming artists. He said that was his passion- what he loved to do.

I was all the way at UCLA doing my pre-med. The distance between us seemed to be the only thing holding us back from labeling whatever it was we were doing. We studied each other's schedules and texted and called every day. His schedule was as busy as mine, if not busier. Nevertheless, he made sure to make time for me, which made me want to make time for him. Even if I had to deduct said time from my sleep.

Despite the three-hour time difference, we talked on a fairly constant schedule. He would usually call me at 9 PM PST on weekdays, and we would talk for hours if we didn't have exams, less if we did. He would always text me good morning and always wish me good luck before my exams.

He would Facetime me every Sunday and would always tell me how pretty I looked. Even when my hair was greasy and I was wearing my dad's old jersey. Even when I had the flu, and my entire face was swollen. Every Sunday, he would not end our Facetime calls before telling me how beautiful I looked. His sense of humor matched mine. It felt like I was talking to the male version of myself. As arrogant as that sounded, I liked myself, and talking to a person that reminded me of me was kind of awesome.

We never defined our relationship, though. We never had that talk where you clear up what you are doing and where you are headed. As far as I knew, we were not anything. Just two friends, catching up and flirting occasionally.

When I told him I had never had a boyfriend, he could not believe me. He said there was no way that I had stayed single that whole time, but it was true. I was single and never really had the feeling that I was missing out on things. The urge to date never came my way. I lived vicariously through my friends. When they were in love, I was the person they told. When they went through heartbreak, I was the one that held them down. Hence, it was like I knew enough about relationships. Everything in between seemed pretty apparent.

Until he came along.

From the time we started talking, all I had thought about was what it must be like to be his girlfriend. It was too early to think anything, I knew that. But he was just one of those men you'd never want to not experience. Besides, he was way out of my league. I wouldn't have even thought of him had he never talked to me. I wouldn't think he'd be interested in me in a million years. But there he was, and there I was.

What harm could come from this?

"Tell me about your exes." I had probed on one of our late-night phone conversations.

"What do you want to know?"

"How many did you have?"

"A couple." He had said hesitantly.

"Oh, come on. Tell me."

I was invasive. I wanted to know everything about him. I was interested in him, that wasn't a secret. I wanted him all to myself, and I had to make sure that he was available. Both physically and emotionally. I wanted his intentions to be clear; I didn't want to be misled.

I knew that what I was doing with him was risky. I wasn't supposed to date or fall in love. I had planned to avoid anything that had to do with the opposite gender until I graduated from medical school. Which was in five or six years. I had seen what love did to people. I had seen it destroy the strongest of them. I had seen smart people, dedicated people, people that I looked up to throw away all they had for the sake of love. I knew love was a weakness, and wherever love was, heartbreak followed. You couldn't fix people's problems while nursing a broken heart yourself, could you?

But I was taking a leap of faith with him. I knew he was one of those people that came into your life only once. He was that special. I could feel it.

"Well, I dated around a lot in high school. But I've only ever had one serious girlfriend."

"What is her name? If you don't mind me asking."

"You can ask me anything, Mer." His voice was muffled. It was way past midnight, and we had been on the phone for hours. I was sleepy, but the conversation we were having had my full attention. I was going to ask what her name was again, but lucky for me, he continued.

"Ava."

"What happened?" I asked.

"We met during orientation week, Freshmen year. Dated for a little over a year. Broke up a few months ago."

Way to sum it up, I thought.

He spoke in a surreptitious voice, and that unsettled me. Was he heartbroken? Was he not over her? A few months was too vague. Was it too early to start anything with another person? Was I a rebound? Was he even interested in me? So many questions swarmed my brain. He must have felt my predicament through the phone because he cleared his throat, and I snapped myself back to reality.

"Did you love her?"

"I did," he said in a weak voice, "She was a senior when we met and I was straight out of high school. She was older than me and I was a horny teenager hoping to get lucky." He chuckled in a self-deprecating way.

"It was supposed to be a one-night stand but we ended up dating." He joked, and I laughed. Not because it was funny, but because the air was thick, and a cloud of jealousy had coated my throat. The air seemed unfamiliar, uncomfortable. I wasn't supposed to get jealous over an ex, but the body works in mysterious ways. There I was, rotting in jealousy yet probing for more information. After all, pain was pleasure.

"Why did you break up?"

"She fucked my brother."

"Oh," I said, hating the awkward situation I had put myself in.

"Oh," He echoed, "Yup, Long story short. I dumped her ass and gave my brother the meanest black eye."

"Atta boy!" I cheered, and he chuckled. I wanted to make him laugh because I couldn't even imagine how hard it must have been for him. Like her cheating on him wasn't bad enough, she did it with his brother. We stayed silent for a beat, and I said the first thing that came to my mind.

"If it's any consolation, you are way hotter than your brother."

His carefree laugh filled the air. The thought of him smiling at whatever I said made me grin from ear to ear. "I mean it. Zach Thompson got nothing on you."

"Thank you, Mer." He breathed.

"Do you still love her?" I asked, holding my breath.

"No," he sounded adamant. "No, Mer. I don't love her anymore." His tone was desperate, pleading with me to believe what he was saying.

"But it's only been months. How can you fall out of love that quick?" I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me.

"Love is finite."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that love ends, Mer. When someone you love hurts you, all the adoration you had for them evaporates and is replaced with indignation. Plus, it has been five months, she has moved down south and I have moved on." He added, "Life goes on, you know."

"I know." I let out a breathy chuckle while bile rose in my throat. I wanted to find her and knock her silly. What in the world was she thinking?

I was happy that he had opened up to me that day. He was not afraid to be vulnerable with me, and I appreciated that. We both found comfort in each other. He knew I would never judge him or use his insecurities against him. Just like I knew he wouldn't. He confided in me about his love/hate relationship with his brother. Noah grew up under Zach's shadow. Zach got all the attention and all the girls. Growing up, their parents and relatives had carelessly pinned them against each other, and they had spent most of their lives being rivals. Once they grew up, they became distant, and their relationship soured. Ava cheating with Zach was the last straw. Even though Zach did apologize for it, Noah said he drew the line there. They never got to mend their relationship. He told me he hadn't spoken to him since. My heart ached for him. I had five brothers, I couldn't imagine not talking to them for days, let alone months on end.

...

Sunday, April 14th, 2013

9:52 PM

Noah and I were on Facetime when Ben, one of his best friends, who also had gone to middle school with us, walked in. Noah lived alone in his apartment near campus. His friends usually came over, so he was never really alone. Ben was staying over at Noah's that Sunday, and he saw me through the computer screen when he had barged into Noah's room to borrow a phone charger.

It was late, and I had already done my nighttime routine and was curled like a ball on my bed with my computer facing me. I had pimple cream all over my face, and my hair was braided in two braids. Ben said hello, I said hello back, and he just stood there with his head tilted, looking at me like he couldn't figure out where he knew me from. Then finally, his face lit up in recognition, and he patted Noah's back, muttering something that sounded a lot like, "My man, you finally talked to her."

Noah was clearly uncomfortable. His brown skin tinted red, and he glanced at me nervously, his body language turning timid. Ben read the room and walked out slowly, loud chuckles leaving his lips mischievously. After he made sure his friend was out of the room, Noah turned to me and apologized gauchely. Nosiness got the best of me, and I asked what that was all about.

"Nothing, he's an ass." Noah tried to brush it off.

But nope, I wasn't letting it go that easily. So, I kept on pressing until his resolve broke, and he confessed to something that had my skin go crimson in turn.

"I might have had a little crush on you, in middle school." He said, so casually, like it wasn't a big deal. Like he wasn't dropping a bomb.

"Ha-ha, funny," was all my brain was able to come up with.

"I did." He laughed. His eyes, not leaving me, studying my face so carefully.

What does one say to that?

I didn't really think about him or any boy in middle school. I was just existing. Nobody caught my eye. It was kind of surreal to hear Noah say those words.

"You didn't even know me, Noah." I dragged his name, out of nervousness.

"I knew you, Mer." He challenged.

"We had never even communicated verbally."

"You don't remember." He said it like a statement.

"Remember what?"

"The first day we met." He looked upset that I didn't know what he was talking about.

"We met?" I asked, and he laughed.

"Yes, we did. Want me to walk you down memory lane?" he shot me his deadly smile and all I could do was nod.

"Do you at least remember that I was on the football team?" he asked, looking like my answer would either break him or make him. Of course, I did.

"of course, I do. Mr. Wide receiver." I responded with an eye roll.

"Well, we had a match with a rival football team. I forgot what their name was, I was that uninterested." He paused with a smile playing on his face slowly. "Anyway, we lost that day, they kicked our asses. I was slacking, and the team lost because of me. I hated playing football. I only did it because my brother was the captain and he wouldn't get off my case."

I stirred inside my blanket, aiming to reach the cold side of the bed because it was getting too hot. Either global warming or the conversation was to blame for the sudden increase in temperature in my room. The latter sounded more convincing.

"Everyone was furious at me. My teammates, Coach, the students, everyone. They were going bat shit crazy. The next day, when I came to school, my locker was stocked with letters from angry students and it was all fucked up." He sighed audibly like the memory was fresh.

"So, anyway. I walked into math class and the students were all talking about the game and how much I sucked playing it. At first, I didn't see you, you were sitting up front, almost a few inches away from the teacher's desk." He paused to let out a small laugh.

"One girl, I think her name was Tina. She started talking really fucking loudly about how I should quit the team and how embarrassing I was, like she was a fucking expert on football. Then the entire class started laughing. I was about to flip her off when a mousy voice interrupted the class." There was a big smile on his face, so naturally, I mirrored his expression. Seeing where the story was going, I pointed to myself smugly, and he nodded.

"You stood up from your chair and yelled at the class for being mean to me. I don't remember it word for word but you said 'Oh, cut it out. He did his best. Even if he didn't, so what? They lost, big deal! It's football, not a craniectomy. Get over it. Leave him alone.'" The expression on his face was something I couldn't translate. He looked happy but also sad. He came close to the screen, adjusted himself on his bed, and continued,

"That's when I saw your face, a perfectly round face with so many freckles spread on it like the stars in the sky. Your big, curly hair looked almost too big for your whole body. You were so tiny yet intimidating. It was fucking hot. You were so calm after yelling at the entire class, you just turned your face back to the board and started scribbling something in your notebook like you didn't just humiliate the whole class."

I remembered that day vividly. But I had no idea that Noah was the boy from math class. That girl Tina was a force to be reckoned with. She hated my guts for the rest of the year because I yelled at her. She gave me the stink eye with her girlies for the rest of the year. She never warmed up to me, and to be honest, I couldn't have cared less.

"That's crazy! You are math boy." I squealed with delight.

He laughed at that, "I am math boy." He grinned. "I had the biggest crush on you for the rest of the year. My friends used to make fun of me for being a wuss and not asking you out."

"Why didn't you?" I teased my playful side awakening.

"I somehow knew that you wouldn't give me the time of day."

"I probably wouldn't have." I laughed.

For the rest of the video call, he told me about the little things I used to do that he found adorable. Like, how I was always the first person to show up to class, that I would always clean up after students when they littered, that I owned a T-shirt that had, Talk nerdy to me, written on it in big, bold, block letters, and that I played Rimsky-Korsakov's Flight of the Bumblebee on cello for the 8th-grade talent show.

It was getting harder and harder not to fall for him. He made me feel seen. How could I not fall for the boy who saw me when I was just a girl? He might have had a crush on me way back when but, after his confession, I might have developed a little crush on him too.

...

a/n- Well, this is Chapter Two. I had so much fun writing this chapter. I blushed and smiled so many times, I might also have the Idiopathic thingy May mentioned. 🤪

This week's song is Crush by Yuna and Usher, the cozy vibe the song gave me matched with the vibe I was hoping to achieve in this chapter. As usual, thank you for giving my story a chance. I've been on Wattpad for quite some time now and I know that ongoing stories aren't given much attention. I also know that waiting for an update can be frustrating. I know those things too well.😅 Regardless, I'd like to say a big thank you to the six people who added my story to their libraries and to the ones who are reading this now. Thank you! A lot. A lot, a lot.

Have an awesome Monday! 💕

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]