I hesitate, shifting from one foot to the other, but can’t stop myself from moving over to the couch. Without saying a word, I wrap my arms around his waist and his arms come around my shoulders, and we lay back, curled around each other.
I let out a long sigh. “I’m scared.”
“I know,” Elliot says.
“What if we don’t make it?” I ask.
Elliot rests his chin on the top of my head. “I want to tell you that we will, but we both know I can’t do that,” he says. “This isn’t one of Lisa Keating’s books anymore.”
I giggle into his neck. Elliot refuses to call Lucy Keating anything other than Lisa. Ever. It’s his way of fighting back, his own micro-aggression against how she treated us. I think it’s hilarious.
“You could come with me?” I say. “To New York.”
“I could,” Elliot says, giving me a brief glimpse of hope. “I might, someday. But not right now. Look at Me, Look at Me have made a name for ourselves in LA. It would be a mistake to pick up and move now.”
“But,” I start, “what if you meet some hot girl at a party one night, and unlike me, she can play an instrument, like really well? And you like her more than you like me?” These are the things I’ve been thinking about. The things that have been keeping me awake at night lately.
“That’s not going to happen.” Elliot shakes his head.
“What if I have, like, the sexiest resident advisor on the entire campus of Columbia, and he’s basically a prince of a small country, and he starts hanging around all the time and—”
“First of all,” Elliot interrupts me, “never give me that hypothetical situation again. Second of all, there are changes coming our way. We both know that, and we know we can’t avoid them. I don’t know what is going to happen to us, but I just know that I cannot lose you.”
I close my eyes, because he’s right. I don’t want to be vulnerable. But then I tell myself that just this once, it might be okay to let go.
“I don’t want to lose you, either,” I admit.
“I know it sounds crazy,” Elliot confesses, “but I just want to know I can come and sit on this couch. This couch is important to me.” I can hear his heart beating.
“This couch is important to me, too,” I say even though we both know we’re not really talking about the couch. The couch won’t even be here soon. We keep holding each other, my head in Elliot’s neck. “Sweet Thing” isn’t playing anywhere—if Lucy were writing this, it would be—but I play the violins in my head.
“I love you, Annabelle,” Elliot says, and then he tilts his head down to look at me, and I trace the freckles around his eyes with my fingers, like always. We kiss.
After a few minutes, I say, “You’ll always be my first love, Elliot. Though given that I’ve never really dated anyone else, I suppose it’s not saying much.”
Elliot is quiet for a moment. “You’ll always be my first love, too,” he says. “And, speaking as someone who has dated quite a few people, I can tell you that it means a whole lot.”
28
That’s Not What the Word Means
IT’S THREE P.M. on Tuesday afternoon, and technically I should be in Freshman English at Columbia. That’s what my calendar says, in blue. But I’m not. Instead I’m standing backstage at Warner Bros., on the set of Across the Sea, watching Elliot get a final makeup touch-up before they start shooting.
Yes, as in the film adaptation of Across the Sea, by Lucy Keating.
In the end, JJ Jermaine pulled through for one of his biggest fans, and Look at Me, Look at Me didn’t just get chosen for the soundtrack of Across the Sea, they got chosen to perform live as the band in the movie’s sentimental prom scene. Clara has on a poufy taffeta dress and all the boys are wearing ice-blue tuxedos with ruffled cummerbunds. They should look ridiculous, but they actually look kind of awesome. Particularly Elliot. He catches my eye as the pink makeup sponge dots its way across his cheekbones, and winks. I smile and stare down at my shoes. After all this time, he still makes me nervous.
“Don’t cover up all his freckles,” I tell the makeup artist, who rolls her eyes at me.
Elliot invited me to set for this big moment, and I decided to fly out for a couple of days. This doesn’t mean I’m not taking school or my future seriously. That’s a part of my DNA. But I’ve learned to live a little. To shake things up, as my dad would say. And plus, I could ace Freshman English with my eyes closed, so I’m not too worried about it.
I feel my stomach grumble, and I head over to craft services to see if there are any chocolate chip cookies I can dig up. That’s when I bump headfirst into Diane Sawyer coming around a corner. She’s in black slacks and her signature collared shirt, and she looks incredible, as always.
“Pardon me!” Diane says, putting a hand to her chest like she’s just seen a ghost, before disappearing down the hall. I’m left standing there, my mouth hanging open, all the things I’ve always wanted to say to her running through my mind on repeat.
“A little starstruck?” a PA wearing a headset asks as she walks by.
“I’m her biggest fan,” I whisper.
The PA stops. “Aren’t you a little young to be a fan of Diane?” She winks.
“What is she doing here?” I ask, choosing this time to ignore the joke.
“She’s interviewing Lucy Keating. She’s the author who wrote—”
“I know who she is,” I say curtly.
The PA nods. “Well, she’s on set today, and Diane was in town for some awards ceremony. They decided to shoot the interview here. If you go quickly, you might be able to catch some of it.”
I hesitate, not wanting to miss Sam and Elliot’s big moment.
“Go,” Elliot says, coming up behind me and giving me a kiss on the cheek before reaching for a bagel. “We aren’t shooting for another hour anyway.”
“I love you,” I tell him. And then I start to run.
“It’s an honor to host you on our show today,” Diane Sawyer tells her guest. “Congrats on the success of Across the Sea. Everyone is very excited for the movie. I think I may have used up an entire box of tissues when I read the book.”
“It’s a pleasure to be here, Diane,” Lucy Keating says, looking beautiful and confident in a chic gray blouse and her signature red lipstick. Her glasses are new, I notice. Now they’re tortoiseshell.
“Before we get into the film, I know everyone in the audience has one question on their minds: Are you working on anything new?” Diane crosses her legs elegantly, letting one hand rest gingerly in her lap. Books could be written on her composure, I think.
“I’ve got a project in the works,” Lucy says. “I can’t really talk about it yet, but I can say that I’m aging up a bit. This one takes place in college.”
A familiar, prickly feeling starts to meander up my spine.
“How exciting!” Diane exclaims. “Will there be romance?”