Nick and Charlie

by Alice Oseman

If you’d told me three years ago I’d be in a two-year-long relationship by the time I was seventeen, I would have laughed in your face.

I have been going out with Nick Nelson since I was fourteen. He likes rugby and Formula 1, animals (especially dogs), the Marvel universe, the sound felt-tips make on paper, rain, drawing on shoes, Disneyland, and minimalism. He also likes me. His hair is dark blond and his eyes are brown and he is two inches taller than me, if you care about that sort of thing. I think he’s pretty hot, but that might just be my opinion.

It hits me suddenly that this is the last day we’re going to be at the same school. Six entire years of being in the same place every weekday are over.

Nowadays, we don’t have to be scared here. I hold his hand whenever I want.

Then, as I’m in the middle of a sentence, he rolls onto his side and pulls me down by the back of my neck for a kiss, which sort of takes me by surprise because we’re long past the

stage of needing to make out every time we’re alone.

can’t tell him about this. He’d feel awful. He’s had enough of feeling bad because of me. I’ve already been the most annoying boyfriend in recorded history, what with all my mental health stuff.

“No, but”—he shakes his head—“you’re Nick and Charlie.” I laugh. “What does that mean?” “It’s …” He laughs too, a nervous expulsion of air. “You’re … it’s hard to explain. It’s like, if you had to provide evidence for soul mates, everyone would pick you two.”

I think he just took them because he wanted to remember what this was like. What our life is like now.

I love this. I love us. I love our weird, boring life.

“If you want to break up,” he says, pointing a finger at me, “go right ahead. If you’re bored and want it to be over, fine. But just because you’re not going on fucking amazing dates every weekend doesn’t mean you’re boring and definitely doesn’t mean you need to break up.”

“A born-again woman. Willing to put aside my apathy for the sake of romance.” She blinks and puts her hand on her heart. “Jesus, I gave myself indigestion saying that out loud.”

I try to think of something else to say, but nothing comes to mind except “You are beautiful” and “I love you.”

I don’t think things have gone back to normal—instead, we’ve entered an entirely new era, one where we’re better, surer, stronger together.

On the drive back, Charlie falls asleep in my car. I turn the radio on and thank the universe that my life is like this.

We spend the whole day talking about us and what it’s going to be like when we’re long distance, and it honestly only makes me believe even harder that we’re going to be fine, that everything’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay. Seriously, this time.

How is it that this still makes me so … How have two years gone by and I still feel like this in his arms?

I hold him so tight against me, as if that’ll keep us here, keep him here with me. I used to think I was pathetic for thinking soppy, romantic stuff like that. I don’t anymore. I just keep thinking it. I keep wanting him here. I keep wanting him to stay.

“Okay, fine, I love you more than my dogs.” “Good.” “I love you more than anyone, actually.”

❤️❤️❤️❤️