Authors: Julie Cross
Halfway Perfect (31 page)
May 15, 11:10 a.m.
The sound of the wheels emerging underneath my seat jolts me awake. My ears are full of pressure, so I can barely hear the flight attendants prepping the cabin for landing. I yawn and stretch one arm over my head. After carefully reaching into my bag for a piece of gum, I lift the shade up on the window and watch the clouds move from below me to above me and the green patches of land appear in their place.
For the first time in I don't know how many years, I let myself look without thinking or worrying about the future. It's taken a lot to get to this point and who knows what's ahead, so I might as well enjoy it while I can.
In exactly five days I'm shooting a huge campaign for Gucci, the job I walked away from years ago. After hearing the full story about Wes and me and why I left (thanks to a very truthful
New
York
Times
article written by a good friend of Janessa Fields), Gucci decided that a model who had overcome a difficult past and gone on to become an Ivy League student was exactly who they needed to star in their Fall/Winter catalog. I think it helped that they wanted Janessa so bad and she told them she'd do it if they cast me. Janessa knew this one job would be enough to nearly cover my tuition for next year. Of course she still expects me to assist her as much as possible, which means I may be editing my own photos. Weird.
I laugh a little under my breath at the sight of cornfields on the ground below. This isn't New York, that's for sure. The wheels finally grind against the runway, bumping the passengers around a bit. I glance to my left, staring in disbelief at Alex's head still lying limply against my shoulder. How does he sleep through a plane landing?
“Hey.” I pat his cheek lightly. “We're here.”
He finally raises his head, flashing me a sleepy smile before kissing me. There's an imprint down one side of his face from the zipper of my hoodie. I snort back a laugh and try to rub it away as the plane pulls into the gate.
He grabs onto my hand and pulls it away from his face. “It's fine. Just don't take my picture.”
“How can you sleep like that? Did you drug yourself or something?” I barely dozed off for twenty minutes before hearing the sounds of landing prep.
Alex squeezes my hand as if sensing my nerves. “I guess my head was nice and clear. Makes sleeping easy.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Oh, and what exactly is your head usually full of? With your booming career, heavy bank account, and, of course, a kick-ass girlfriend, what can you possibly have to worry about?”
He gives me one of his shameless grins that reminds me of that first day we met. He's different now in my eyes, but still the same guy in all the ways that make him Alex. The biggest difference in him, I think, is that last October he saw only one path for his life, one solutionâdo whatever it takes to get to the top of the modeling chain. To him, he believed wholeheartedly that he had no choice but to follow Wes's orders.
But there is always a choice.
I've learned this too.
Alex stands up to open the overhead compartment and pulls down both of our carry-ons. “I bet you wish you'd gotten that scholarship so you'd be deboarding in Paris instead of Nebraska right now.”
I shrug. Yeah, I'd love to be in Paris for the summer, but it would mean leaving Alex for three months, and it would also mean leaving Janessa for three months, and I've learned so much from her.
Plus there's always next summer.
Alex sets the second suitcase down in front of him, and while we wait for the passengers in front of us to exit the plane, he hooks an arm around my waist and brings me closer. “Have I told you thanks for coming with me yet? If not, I totally meant to.”
I laugh. “Only about two dozen times.”
“You're saving me from hearing so much shit from my brothers. They'll have to be polite if you're around.” He leans in and kisses me. “We can go to Paris for fun if you want. Keep an eye on Priceline and wait for a cheap flight, bring our backpacks, roam around France like nomads.”
“Or we can stay with Elana's family,” I say. “Her mom loves me. She'll call up the aunts and uncles and get them to put us up for a week or so.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Elana's mom gave her and the agency an ultimatum. If she wants to continue modeling in New York City, Momma would need to bunk up with her fifteen-year-old daughter, and the agency would need to foot the bill.
They all reluctantly agreed. And Elana's slowly allowing me back into her life. Alex isn't getting the same courtesy, but I really do think it's more an issue of embarrassment and shame than anything she has against Alex. She and I have fallen into the same trap called Wes Danes. It makes sense that we can join forces so easily.
When we finally make it outside to the airport curb, where all the cars are pulling up, Alex's eyes get wide after spotting a black minivan not too far from the doors. “Oh no.”
“What?” I ask, squinting into the sun to see what he's looking at.
“Katie,” he says. “She's driving.”
“Didn't she just turn fifteen?” That's when I see the tall, very thin man step out of the passenger seat. He's exactly like I pictured from Alex's only description of his dad months ago. “So she's a student driver?”
“Apparently.”
Alex's dad says a quick hello and then loads our luggage into the back of the van. He tells me to call him Robert and not Mr. Evans but doesn't say much else.
I get in behind Robert, but Alex stands outside, arms folded across his chest.
“Does Katie have to drive home?”
Katie glares at him. “Get a cab.”
She looks too small and young to be in the driver's seat, but I'm not going to open my mouth. Alex reluctantly climbs in and buckles his seat belt, checking it three times before tugging on mine. He leans close and stage-whispers, “Maybe we should say something important just in case? You know, last words and all.”
“Don't be a dipshit, Alex,” Katie snaps. “I had to sit in the car when you were driving. We could tell Eve that story about the cow and the baby ducks that were only visible to you.”
Alex glares back at her but doesn't say another word. Katie glances over her shoulder and smiles at me. “Nice to meet you, Eve, by the way. And it's so nice of my brother to properly introduce you.”
Alex rolls his eyes “Katie, this is Eve. Eve, this is Katie, my annoying little sister.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say.
The next twenty-five minutes
are
a bit scary. Alex wasn't totally blowing smoke with his reluctance to let Katie drive. I try to focus on his dad and the quiet, calm way he directed his daughter. Like he'd already anticipated and prepared for every mistake she made. And maybe he had if he'd been the one to teach all three boys to drive. There's so much stability and commitment in that task alone. It's obvious how different my family is from Alex's.
We don't even make it inside the house before we're bombarded by Alex's brothers. They're huge compared to Alex, but shorter. Brad walks right up to me and hugs me, lifting me off the ground.
“Eve Nowakowski, the girl who's made our family the most famous people in town,” Brad says “I haven't had to pay for a meal since your story broke in the
New
Yo
rk Times.”
He sets me down finally and I can feel myself blushing. “Um, you're welcome?”
Katie smacks him in the back of the head and rolls her eyes in my direction. “Oh my God, Brad, you're such a douche.”
Brad shrugs. “I'm just breaking the ice so it won't be weird.”
Alex's mom joins us in the front yard and starts handing out jobs. “Put Eve's stuff in Katie's room,” she says to her husband before turning to face me. “Is that all right, Eve?”
“Mom, I don't thinkâ” Alex starts to say, but I clap a hand over his mouth.
“Sounds great.”
Jared catches my eye and mouths,
good
answer
, giving me a thumbs-up. I don't want to pretend with his family, but I'd like to try and make a good impression even if it means three nights of slumber parties in Katie's room. Somehow, I have a feeling she and I will have plenty in common. At the very least, I'll get the cow and baby duck story out of her.
Alex takes my hand and leads me through the house, which smells like Toll House cookies and spaghetti and old family photos and years of all those feet running around. It's beautiful. The backyard has an aboveground pool and has been carefully picked up and decorated for Brad's graduation party tomorrow. I lean against the rail of the deck and scan the yard and the neighborhood on the other side of the wooden fence. It feels important to be here with him, somewhere outside New York City. Like it's symbolic of our ability to adapt and stick together. We need that.
Alex wraps his arms around me from behind and plants kisses up and down my neck. I shake off the goose bumps he's just given me and turn my head to smile at him. “You look especially happy, which is surprising because I'm rooming with your sister tonight.”
“I think maybe I've been looking forward to this a lot more than I let on,” he admits.
My thoughts drift back to that first night we spent together at his apartment and what he said after I asked him what he wanted to do beyond the CK fragrance campaign had finished and he'd fulfilled his obligations with Elana.
I
wouldn't mind being able to call my mom and maybe my sister and tell them I'm dating this really hot, really smart photography student from Columbia. They'd be pretty damn
impressed.
“So I'm only here to make you look good?” I tease.
“It's not only that.” He kisses my cheek and then my neck again. “You don't just make me look good; you've actually made me better. More like you've made me
want
to be a better person, which might be even more important than actually being a better person. It changes the way I make decisions, you know?”
I close my eyes and take in a deep breath of Midwest air and chlorine. “Again, where were you a few years ago, Alex Evans?”
“I'm sorry,” he says. “But I'm here now.”
And I hear what he doesn't say because they're exactly the same words in my head. I'm here for good. Alex is the one thing in my life that I'm completely sure of. Everything else will work itself out.
Everything else is unwritten.
We would both like to thank our agent, Nicole Resciniti, for her early dedication and love of this story. We'd also like to thank the Sourcebooks team for all of their hard work and guidance through this process.
FROM JULIE:
I'd like to thank my husband and family. Mark Perini, for being sane and inviting me into this odd, intriguing, and compelling world of fashion and modeling. I've learned so much writing this book.
FROM MARK:
I'd like to thank Julie Cross for believing in me and for being my guiding light throughout this literary journey. I'd also like to thank my parents for their unwavering love and support. Sorry Mom, I'll never be Dr. Perini, but I hope you're still proud!
Thank you for reading
!
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Julie Cross is the international bestselling author of the Tempest series, a young adult science-fiction trilogy. Julie lives in Central Illinois with her husband and three children. Her knowledge of the modeling and fashion world comes from viewings of the movies
The Devil Wears Prada
and
Zoolander
and her unwavering devotion to the first three seasons of
Ugly Betty
. On a recent trip to NYC, she also took the time to walk past both the Gucci and Prada stores, spending at least fifteen seconds viewing items through the windows.
Mark Perini began his career as an international fashion model ten years ago, while simultaneously obtaining a business degree from Seton Hall University. Turns out fashion's hurry-up-and-wait mentality lends itself quite well to writing. Mark is now a New York Cityâbased author, and
Halfway Perfect
is his first young adult novel. He is also a featured author in the New Adult anthology,
Fifty First
Times
.
When he's not working, Mark's traveling the world. He's made a blood pact with friends to see all seven ancient wonders of the world before he's thirty. Four down, three to go.
Fall in love with the Hundred Oaks series from
Miranda Kenneally
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