4: Girl Meets Covalent Bond

"In here."

Riley waves Farkle toward a bookstore. The window display boasts discounts for NYU students, with orange and red ivy crawling up the stone facade. College freshmen in peacoats gather outside with hot coffee and cigarettes.

They duck inside. Riley immediately reaches for a copy of Spark Joy. She waves it in Farkle's face. "See! I told you it was a thing." Farkle grabs the book from her hand and places it back on the display.

"I never doubted your honesty. Only your sanity." Riley rolls her eyes. "Here we go," Farkle says, picking up another book. "Organization for Dummies." Riley swats him on the arm with a thick volume of poetry. "I deserved that."

They explore, going deeper into the winding stacks, until they discover a cafe hidden at the back of the store.

"You want anything?"

"Hot chocolate, please."

"Two hot chocolates," Farkle orders. He pays and accepts the drinks, passing one off to Riley. They cheers and grab a table in the corner.

"This is good hot chocolate," Riley says.

"I concur."

"This is college hot chocolate."

"Even better."

"Feel my forehead," Riley instructs. Farkle places the back of his hand on her head. "Do I feel smarter?"

Farkle grins. "Yes, Riley. You feel smarter."

"I knew it," Riley says, pumping her fist in celebration.

"Uh, excuse me." A petite red-head in an NYU sweatshirt interrupts. "Do you know how to get to Bobst from here?"

"Um, sure," Farkle says. "If you take 4th past the park, it'll be on your right."

"Thank you. Ugh, I'm a mess," she says, apologizing. She waves and exits in a hurry.

Riley lights up. "She thought we were students."

"College students," Farkle adds. "Hey, be right back," he says, motioning to the bathroom.

Riley picks at the cardboard sleeve of her cup. It's been a long time since she and Farkle spent any alone time together. With college applications in the mix, they've hardly had time for each other outside of study sessions, anyway. He's the same Farkle he's always been - loyal, kind, a genius - with some notable differences, like the height, and the messy hair, the iron jaw, the cool-guy denim jacket... God, that jacket. "What's with the James Dean audition?" Maya had asked when he first picked it up. "I'm a rebel with many causes," he'd shot back.

Riley has taken Farkle for granted this whole time, she realizes. Every change occurred so gradually, she'd hardly noticed that Farkle had transformed into a well-rounded, outgoing, calming presence. On paper, she considers, Farkle is a god. Vice president of the Mathletes. Co-chair of the debate team. A couple of starring roles in school plays. Science fair blue ribbons. Essay competitions destroyed. Perfect SATs and an impossible GPA. All Riley has to her name is a regular column in the school paper and an abbreviated stint on the rhythmic gymnastics team.

The more she thinks about it, sitting here, picking at the now-decimated sleeve of her coffee cup, she realizes the actual magnitude of the difference between them.

"Ready to go?" he asks, returned to the table.

"Yeah."

"Can you believe this is gonna be us next year?" Farkle asks. He and Riley stroll through Washington Square Park, their hot chocolates long since discarded. There are students everywhere. Playing acoustic guitar by the fountain. Reading important-looking books on the lawn.

Riley, not responding, kicks a leaf on the ground.

"What's going on? You've been acting weird since we left that bookstore."

"I don't know."

"And the real answer?"

Riley lets out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

"Why do you even want to go to NYU?"

"What?"

"You could go literally anywhere you wanted. You could probably go to college on Mars if you wanted to."

"Where is this coming from?"

"I don't know!"

"Do you not want me to stay in New York?"

"Of course not!" By now, they're practically shouting at each other in the middle of the park.

"It doesn't sound like it."

"I just think you should keep your options open."

"What? Like Stanford, MIT, Princeton?"

"Sure, if that's what you want."

"Harvard, Oxford, the Sorbonne," he lists them off, his voice almost taunting.

"I'm not going to hold you back."

"Hold me back? You think I haven't thought about those schools already?" Riley's anger falls, but Farkle's is just now coming to a boil. "Yeah, I'd probably get in. And I'd go, and I'd learn a lot, and maybe I'd get a leg up in life with a diploma from a school like that." Tears percolate behind Riley's eyes. "Riley, I can get an education anywhere. But where else am I supposed to find a friend like you?"

Riley's face goes hot. Her heart drops to her stomach, adrenaline pumping. She grabs him without thinking and pulls him in for a kiss. Farkle, in complete shock, responds after a moment of hesitation. But it's a moment too late. Riley pulls away, completely flushed. "I'm sorry." Farkle shakes his head. "I don't know where that—" But Farkle cuts her off with another kiss. He runs his hands through her hair, pulling her as close as she can possibly be. She throws her arms around his neck and stands on tip toes to meet him. It's urgent, and a complete surprise, and they don't even notice the crowd gathering around them, cheering them on.

They pull apart. "Wow," is all she can muster.

"Yeah."

They take a beat, untangling, awkward as they acknowledge their growing audience. "So, NYU?" Riley says. And like that, balance is restored.

"NYU," he says.

Their hands intertwine automatically.

"Sooooo, have you thought about grad school?"

Farkle plants a kiss on Riley's forehead.

They walk.