Happy Again (3 page)

The only truly crazy thing Ellie had ever done in her life was to fall for a movie star.

And now, all these months later, it didn’t seem quite real to her anymore. It felt like something an entirely different person might do, someone she didn’t even recognize.

It was like when she was little, and she refused to go anywhere without her stuffed rabbit. She slept with it every night, propped it on the chair next to hers at the dinner table, dragged it to school and in the car and to her mother’s shop. Once, she accidentally left it in a restaurant, and she didn’t realize it until they were already home and the place was closed. She spent a sleepless night sobbing into her pillow, and in the morning, her mom drove her—puffy-eyed and still hiccupping—back to the restaurant, where she was reunited with the little bunny, who had spent the night in a lost-and-found box beside a Velcro wallet and a single mitten.

Just last year, Ellie had found the bunny again in a box in the attic. She’d sat on the dusty floor and stared at the thing, trying to summon up those same feelings. It was nubby and bald and worn, the seams coming apart on one of the ears and an eyeball missing from when their dog, Bagel, had gotten hold of it. There was definitely something sweet about it, and she certainly felt nostalgic, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember why she’d ever been so obsessed with it.

And that’s kind of how she felt about Graham now.

Like the little bunny, he, too, was stored away, tucked between the shiny pages of all those magazines, his life playing out in the endless depths of the Internet, a never-ending series of photos and interviews and rumored girlfriends and fast cars, all of it so far away from her own life—so far removed from the guy on the beach that summer—that it was almost impossible to recall why she’d ever been so attached in the first place.

The figure in the distance stood alone in the middle of the red carpet.

There was a constellation of people orbiting around him—assistants and publicists and hairstylists, reporters and photographers and security guards—keeping a thin cushion of space between them, as if he were electric, as if at any moment he might start throwing off sparks.

When Graham turned to wave at the crowd, a collection of high-pitched screams split the Manhattan night, and even from this far away, she could see his smile shift from the stiff, guarded one he was always wearing at these types of things to something more real, something bordering on genuine amusement.

“He’s
gorgeous
,” Kara breathed, and the other two nodded in agreement, straining to get a better look.

But Ellie said nothing. It felt to her like the rest of the world should be disappearing right about now. It felt like at any moment, he should look over and spot her there, and their eyes should lock, and he should start moving in her direction, and everything else should fade away, and then…and then, what?

Even if it were to happen this way, she wasn’t sure she’d want that. Or that
he
would. After all, she was the one who’d stopped writing—who had ignored the last few e-mails he sent this past winter, all of them wondering where she was, asking if everything was okay—and he had every right to be angry with her.

So it almost didn’t matter what happened next. Too much time had gone by, and this particular chapter was long over now. Graham was packed away in some dusty corner of her heart, and even if she found him again, there was no way it would ever be the same.

How could it?

He was closer now, maybe twenty yards away, making his way down the line, shaking hands and signing autographs and taking photos with fans. His movie-star smile had returned, his face friendly but vacant, his eyes a little glazed, and to her surprise, Ellie felt suddenly desperate to see his real smile again. The thought made her chest so tight it was almost hard to breathe.

She reached between Kara and Sprague, gripping the cool metal barricade with one hand to steady herself as he approached, not sure whether she was waiting anxiously or bracing herself, whether she was trying to hide or be seen. Her palms were sweaty and her vision was blurry from the flashes and the noise, the press of bodies and the nervous energy. It almost felt like something was short-circuiting inside her as she stood there, completely paralyzed, watching him approach as if in slow motion.

“Get your phone out,” Sprague said under her breath, her eyes still glued to Graham, who was only ten yards away now. Obediently, Lauren dug through her bag, fumbling to capture the moment, to leave with some sort of proof that they had been here.

And then there he was: only a few feet away, half-bent as he scrawled his name across a piece of paper while a little girl—no more than eight or nine—stared, dumbstruck, from the other side of the makeshift fence.

“Hope you like the movie,” Graham said as he handed it back, and the girl burst into happy tears. Everyone around her laughed, but Ellie understood. Something about the moment made her want to cry, too, because he sounded like Graham just then—not the guy in the interviews, or the one on-screen, but the one on her porch in Maine: humble and hopeful and human.

“So cute,” Sprague said, snapping a few blurry pictures on her phone. A girl with an earpiece walked over and whispered something to Graham, and then he lifted his hand and grinned apologetically at the crowd, which broke into feverish applause, before he was steered sharply toward the entrance of the theater.

As they watched him disappear, Kara sighed.

“I love him,” she said, and Ellie nodded miserably.

She was pretty sure she did too.

Once he was gone, the crowd seemed to wilt.

A few people began to leave, while others shifted restlessly, still looking off toward the line of cars as if a surprise guest might step out at any moment. But with the departure of the film’s two stars, the red carpet was now mostly filled with publicists and producers and assistants.

“I wish we’d gotten a selfie,” Kara said, spinning around.

“Or at least something better than this,” Sprague said, thrusting her phone at them. Ellie leaned close to see a muddled picture of the back of Graham’s head. But even that was enough to make her throat go thick, and she stared at it for a beat too long, blinking fast, still shell-shocked by the nearness of him.

“You okay?” Lauren asked, and Ellie realized there were tears in her eyes.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, brushing them away. “Just a little cold.”

Once she said it, she realized it was true. It was only September, but with the sun gone, there was a chill in the air, and she rubbed at her bare arms, wishing she were wearing more than just jeans and a T-shirt. She could picture her gray hoodie in the backseat of Sprague’s car, and was annoyed she hadn’t remembered to bring it.

“Dinner?” Lauren asked, raising her eyebrows at the others. Sprague shrugged, and Kara gave the red carpet one last hopeful look before agreeing.

But just as they turned, ready to make their way toward Seventh Avenue, Ellie heard her name.

She hesitated, her whole body tense, before swiveling around.

She hadn’t realized how high her heart had lifted until she felt it fall again. For a moment, she’d thought it might be Graham. But instead she found herself staring at the round, bearded face of his manager, Harry Fenton, who was standing a few feet away, in the middle of the red carpet, wearing a look of confusion that made it seem like she’d been the one to call out to him.

“Ellie, right?” he asked, taking a few steps closer. “Ellie O’Neill?”

Ellie glanced nervously at the other three girls, who were all staring at her.

“Yeah,” she said eventually, in a voice that didn’t quite sound like hers.

She’d never properly met Harry Fenton—she’d only seen him from afar during some of the shoots in Henley—but she knew enough to know that he hadn’t been a fan of hers. Even before she and Graham got in trouble for a scuffle with the paparazzi and that incident with a stolen boat, Harry had been worried that Ellie was a distraction for his biggest client.

So it was no small surprise to see him smiling at her now, holding out a hand, and Ellie had to inch past Kara to greet him.

“I thought that was you,” he said, pumping her hand up and down. “Does—”

“No,” she said quickly. “We were just walking by, and—”

“Oh, well, you have to come in then,” he said, gesturing at the theater behind him with the friendly enthusiasm of a game-show host. “You probably haven’t seen it yet, have you?”

Ellie shook her head, wondering how he thought she might have seen it, given that this was the world premiere. Her face was burning now for no real reason except that she could feel everyone watching her, and she wished she had the power to make herself invisible.

“I can’t,” she finally managed to say. “I don’t…I’m not dressed for it, and we’ve, um, got dinner plans, and…”

Harry’s gaze shifted to the semicircle of girls standing behind her with what Ellie could only assume were mystified expressions. “Bring your friends. There’s popcorn inside.”

Ellie had just opened her mouth to refuse once more when Lauren appeared at her side, jabbing her hard in the ribs.

“We’d love to,” Lauren said, beaming at Harry. “That’s so nice of you.”

“Well, great,” he said, looking pleased. “How many are you? Four? Super. Let me just…”

He held up a finger and then spun around, walking over to a girl with a headset, who nodded immediately and started punching at her phone.

“Whoever that is,” Lauren said, her eyes still trained on Harry, “he’s my new favorite person.”

“Who is it?” Kara asked, unable to hide her excitement. “What’s even happening right now?”

“We’re going to a movie premiere,” Lauren said triumphantly. She gave Ellie a little slap on the back. “This night just got
much
more exciting.”

“Yeah, but how do you know him?” Sprague asked, staring at Ellie. “This is so random…”

“He’s a…family friend,” Ellie lied, her stomach churning. But it would be impossible to sum up the whole story without sounding ridiculous. Even the long version was pretty hard to believe.

Besides, she had bigger things to worry about right now. Already, she was making frantic calculations about the odds of seeing Graham in there. Harry would probably have to find seats for them somewhere way in the back, and surely they’d be getting there so late that the movie would start almost immediately, which meant the chance of her running into Graham was tiny.

When Harry motioned them forward, a huge security guard with a wire in his ear lifted the barricade and swung it open just enough for them to slip through. The other girls whispered excitedly as they walked past jealous fans, but Ellie just stared at her feet, taking in the grubby flip-flops and chipped nail polish on her toes.

As they passed a life-size cutout of Graham near the entrance to the theater, Harry handed over their tickets with a half smile. “So how’ve you been?”

“Fine,” Ellie said, glancing around nervously as they made their way into the lower lobby, which was filled with women in cocktail dresses and men in suits and silk ties. The walls were velvety red and trimmed with gold, and there were huge crystal chandeliers hanging overhead; the whole place had an elegance that made Ellie feel even more out of place.

“He’ll be excited to see you,” Harry said as they stepped onto the escalator. The other girls were behind them, and Ellie checked to be sure they weren’t listening before shaking her head.

“No,” she said, and Harry looked surprised. “I don’t want to…I mean, it’s just that…you know, we haven’t really talked in a while, and I don’t think…”

“Look,” he said, ignoring her confused stammering as they stepped off the escalator and into another lobby, this one just as crowded. “I owe you an apology for last summer. You might’ve noticed that I wasn’t too thrilled about the two of you. But ever since you…well, ever since things ended, I think Graham’s been a little…”

Ellie held her breath, waiting for him to continue.

Graham’s been a little too preoccupied with other girls.

Graham’s been a little too out of control.

Graham’s been a little too busy.

But instead he said this: “Graham’s been a little bit lonely.”

Ellie stared at him. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. They were standing in the middle of the upper lobby now, though Ellie couldn’t remember when they’d stopped walking. “I think you were actually a good influence on him,” Harry continued. “He’s just not himself lately, and he’s always taking off in these cars, and…I don’t know. I guess I’d just hate it if anything
I
did—”

“We’re gonna head in, okay?” Lauren said, appearing at Ellie’s side. Behind her, the other two girls were waiting near the entrance to the main theater.

“Hey, don’t let me keep you,” Harry said, reaching out to take Ellie’s hand and giving her a meaningful look. “But it’s really, really good to see you.”

“You too,” Ellie managed to say, her head spinning.

“And enjoy the movie.”

“We will,” Lauren said, hooking her arm through Ellie’s and leading her into the cavernous theater, where they paused for a moment at the top of the aisle, taking it all in. The seats were almost entirely filled with people, though many of them were still standing, leaning across rows to say hello to old friends or business associates. Their voices bounced around the red walls and the huge gold curtains surrounding the screen. Behind them were more seats, which rose up like bleachers toward the ceiling, but Ellie followed Lauren down the far left aisle of the mezzanine, where they found their seats, only a few rows from the back.

“I can’t
believe
you got us in here,” Lauren said as they scooted by a couple on the end, and then past Kara and Sprague, who had sat down nearest the aisle, leaving Ellie a seat closer to the middle. “This is just completely insane...”

“Seriously,” Kara said. “It’s
beyond
.”

“Beyond,” Ellie agreed absently, her eyes raking the front of the theater for Graham. She assumed there’d be a cluster of people around him, the way there’d been outside, but she couldn’t see him anywhere. Maybe the actors snuck in after the lights went down, or maybe they didn’t come at all. Or maybe it was just that the sort of people invited to an event like this were simply too cool to gawk at celebrities.

Above them, the lights blinked twice, and a hush fell over the audience as the stragglers hurried to find their seats before the theater went dark.

Ellie leaned back and let out a long breath. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and attempt to process all of this: that she was presumably in the same room as Graham, that Harry seemed to think he was lonely, that she was about to see the movie they’d filmed in her hometown, and that she was in a ritzy New York theater with three girls from school she hardly knew, who had no idea of the real reason they’d been invited inside.

“You okay?” Lauren asked, and Ellie nodded.

“Fine.”

“You just seem a little…off. Are you mad we said yes?”

“No, it’s fine,” she said again, though her voice sounded oddly tense, even to her. “Who wouldn’t have?”

She wanted to mean it. In fact, she wanted to revel in it, the fact that they were all here because of her. That after weeks of tagging along and wishing she fit in, she had turned out to be their ticket into such an exclusive event. But she was too nervous to enjoy it, too fidgety to relax.

“Really?” Lauren asked, and this time, Ellie attempted a smile.

“Really,” she said, and this seemed to satisfy Lauren, who bumped her shoulder against Ellie’s with a grin just as the lights snapped off.

For a moment, just before the screen winked to life, it felt to Ellie like they were floating in the dark. But then the image appeared, a landscape shot of the Henley harbor at sunrise, and Ellie felt such a gut punch of homesickness that she nearly lost her breath. There was scattered clapping as the first credits appeared at the edge of the screen, the shot panning to reveal the docks and the boats—including the
Go Fish
, which she and Graham had once stolen to sail north on an ill-fated quest—and all of it was so painfully familiar that she felt for her phone in her pocket, wanting to text her mom.

When the title appeared in bold letters across the screen, everyone in the theater clapped again, and then the camera moved through the center of town, landing on a boy making his way through the gray dawn, his head bent and his back to the camera, and all at once, Ellie was struck by a thousand memories of last summer, of seeing this very boy in these very places:

Watching him walk into the ice-cream shop on that first day.

Talking to him near the gazebo while the cast and crew waited for him to return to the set.

Stepping off the bus with him over by the post office.

Staring at each other across the lawn on the Fourth of July as the fireworks went off overhead.

And then, just like that, he was there.

Not in her memory and not on the screen—though he was both of those places, too—but a few feet away, a shadowy figure squinting at her from the aisle.

“Ellie?” he whispered, and she sat up a little in her seat, her heart hammering.

Behind them, a few people made shushing noises, and of the other three girls, only Kara—who was closest to the aisle—was looking up at the boy hovering at the end of the row.

“Ellie,” Graham whispered again, leaning over a little bit. The middle-aged couple nearest him—whose gazes were fixed on the screen, where another version of Graham was climbing into a boat—turned in his direction too.

It only took a second for them to recognize him, and their surprise seemed to travel down the row.

“Oh my god,” Sprague said, clapping a hand over her mouth, and then she leaned across Lauren to jab Ellie, who had sunk down low in her seat.

“Can we talk?” Graham asked from the aisle, and the other three girls whipped their heads back and forth between them as Ellie hesitated. She’d forgotten what it felt like to be with Graham in public, the way the attention settled over her like snow, blanketing everything, freezing her in place.

After a moment, Lauren grabbed her arm and gave it a little shake. “Go,” she said through gritted teeth, her face a picture of astonishment, and then she swung her legs to the side to leave room for Ellie to pass, which she did, awkwardly scooting by her friends, trying to ignore the curious stares of the people in the row behind her.

As she neared the aisle, moving past the confused couple, Graham stepped back to let her out. But she still couldn’t bring herself to look at him directly. He nodded at the back of the theater, where a faint light shone through from the lobby, and together, they walked toward it, hurrying up the aisle as the music swelled behind them: a sure sign that the girl had finally appeared on-screen and the love story was about to begin.