Then You Saw Me by Carrie Aarons

Epilogue

Taya

One Week Later

It wasn’t a question that I would move in with Austin for my six-week program at the United Nations.

Living apart would have been dumb, since we’d have spent every night together. This just cut down on commute time, cost, and I didn’t have to live with a random intern roommate. Plus, living with your boyfriend in New York City with no chaperones and no other roommates?

That’s the fucking dream.

There is a grunt and a whine as he pushes open the creaky front door of the apartment and hefts one of my suitcases inside.

“You have more bags for six weeks of living here than I brought for my entire life moving forward,” he complains as he drags it into the tiny bedroom behind me.

“You promised me a summer to remember, and that requires cute outfits.” I pout and then skip over to kiss him.

I’m just so giddy. The energy and vibe of the city has infected my veins, and I have a feeling it won’t leave for a long time. The minute my parents dropped me and my bags off on the curb outside Austin’s apartment building, I knew I was meant to fit here.

Maybe not this apartment, but it’ll do for now. When we’re older, more successful, we’ll have one of those places a young couple could be proud of. Not that I’m not proud of Austin now. He scored a deal on this place since someone is subletting it for a year. Go figure, he’s king of the sublet. Living alone, or now with his girlfriend for six weeks, is an accomplishment when first moving to New York. Though the place is just a galley kitchen, small living room with a table and chairs smashed into the corner, and a bedroom barely able to comfortably fit a queen, it’s private. And it’s ours to play house in for the next couple of weeks.

And my boyfriend has accomplished so much in a month here. He’s busting his ass at the radio station. Working overtime, jumping at any chance for extra projects. Signing up for call times no one wants or shuttling guests to and from their hotels. Some of the work is beneath him, but he realizes anything might give him a leg up or a shot at being noticed. And he was just last week. He was simply chatting in the lunch room about some hockey trade, and one of the main sportscasters wandered in and was listening to him. The guy thought Austin had great insight and asked if he’d want to brainstorm about an upcoming segment.

Needless to say, Austin is over the moon. I know that while I’m here, his work schedule isn’t going to let up. Nor is he going to stop volunteering simply because his girlfriend is living with him. I am more than okay with that. The most important thing we are both doing here is establishing our careers. Not that our relationship comes second, but I love how dedicated he is to his passion, and he feels the same way about my career.

As we unpack, the sounds of Radiohead float through the small space when Austin turned his phone on. He sings along, and I listen, smiling like a goofy idiot in love. Because I am.

My cell vibrates on the bed, and I pick it up to read the message.

“It’s from Amelie. She almost ran into Gannon at Target and had to duck behind a display of water bottles to avoid him.” I chuckle, even though it’s not really funny.

“Is she ever just going to either tell him to fuck off, or actually fuck him?” Austin ponders as he unpacks my bag of shoes.

The guy looks thoroughly confused as he keeps pulling pairs out of the bag. The poor man, he just doesn’t understand how my wardrobe is about to take over his apartment.

“I’d bet on the former, if I had to guess. Things are bound to blow up soon. Especially since we’re all going to be living together again come August.”

Things with the Prospect Street house are in total limbo. Of course, Scott, Amelie, Bevan, and I are solid in that we will be living there. Clearly, Gannon is coming back to school, but I’m not sure Amelie is going to allow him to live with us. That charmer with a TV personality is trying everything in his power to get her to talk to him, to find out why she’s mad, but she’s been avoiding him like the plague. They are both in Webton for the summer, and Am told me he was waiting outside of her house twice a week. At some point, she’s going to have to come clean, and he’s going to have to wise up.

Then there is Callum. He is definitely on the outs, there is no way he can live there. He and Bevan are done, officially. There is no giving it the summer. Because she saw him with another girl. In all the times they broke up, he never dared talk to, date, or worse, kiss a girl. Then Bev saw him at the mall laughing with some girl in the food court, and she lost it. She ended up burning half the gifts he’d given her over their time together, and I’d been the one to go over there before I left and hold her as she sobbed until she passed out. Every time I looked at her, it was like her soul was ripping in two. I have no idea how they’ll overcome this.

But I can’t worry about all that right now. That’s for next semester, and this is summer. I have dates out in the city to look forward to, nights with Austin cuddled up listening to the sounds of people and sirens and the noise of life. I have six weeks of my dream job that will hopefully lead to so much more.

If you had told me six years ago, hell, two months ago, that I’d be in love and living in a New York City apartment with Austin Van Hewitt, I would have laughed in your face.

But here we are.

I’m more than certain that we’ll make it. That in two years’ time, I will graduate and move here so we can begin our next chapter together.

After all, you never forget your first love.

Apparently, I don’t have to. I get to be in love with the first guy whose name I wrote next to Mrs. in my high school notebook.

Maybe someday, he’ll even ask me to take that last name forever.