Happy Again (6 page)

Graham nodded. “I’d like that.”

“I want to feel the way I did last summer,” Ellie said, tipping her head back to look at the purple sky. “And I want to be big and brave and bold.”

He laughed. “You already are. You’re the boldest person I know.”

“I’m not,” she said, shaking her head.

“Remember when we stole the boat?”

“That was your idea. I never would’ve done it alone.”

“Yeah, but it was because you wanted to find your dad. That was
your
idea. And that was one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen.”

Ellie sat back down on the bench, feeling suddenly drained. “Not that it did much good.”

“What about the letters?” Graham said, joining her there, sitting closer this time, so that their arms brushed against each other. “Did you ever send them?”

“No,” Ellie said miserably.

“Not any?”

“There’s a whole stack of them in my sock drawer,” she said, and he bumped his knee against hers.

“You’ll get there.”

“I hope so,” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder without even thinking about it. Above them, a helicopter was moving across the sky, and they could hear the distant thrum. “I want to take more chances,” she said. “And not be so afraid.”

“I want that too,” he said. “I want to remember why I love what I do, and what makes me happy, and try to forget about all the other stuff.”

“What else?”

“I want to know you’re out there too.”

She nodded into his shoulder. “I’m right here.”

“I want to be challenged. And I want to speak up more. And I want to learn to say no to wearing pants that are way too tight.”

Ellie laughed. “I think that’s probably a good idea.”

“And I want to spend more time at home.”

“I want to be able to stand in front of a room full of people and actually be able to say the thing I want to say,” she told him.

“And I want to be able to stand in front of just one person and say the thing I want to say.”

She lifted her head. “Graham…”

But he only slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him again. “Your turn.”

“I want,” she said, “to be the kind of person who says yes more often.”

“That’s a good one.”

“And I want us to be happy again.”

“You already said that.”

“Yeah,” she said, “but I figure it’s worth repeating.”

“Well, it must be working,” he said, tightening his arms around her. “I don’t know about you, but I feel about a million times happier already.”

Not long after that, they emerged from the park. Ellie’s arm was linked through Graham’s, and they were leaning into each other like the two sides of a pup tent. She was still wearing his jacket, and he’d put the Yankees cap on again, and when they spilled out onto Fifty-Ninth Street, they became just two more in a sea of people, falling into step alongside the tourists with cameras and the men in suits and the women hailing taxis, blending in with the lights and the traffic and the noise.

“I wish we didn’t have to go back,” Graham muttered as they crossed the street, and she knew he was talking about more than just the premiere. She’d been thinking the exact same thing, but she tilted her head up to look at him with an overly cheerful expression.

“Game face,” she said with a little grin.

He laughed. “I’ve created a monster.”

“Not yet,” she said. “I still need a little practice.”

Graham stopped abruptly. They were standing in front of the Plaza Hotel, beside a huge fountain with several tiers and a metal sculpture of a woman perched on top. Nearby, a man was playing a song on the guitar that Ellie didn’t recognize, a jangly tune that rose and fell in the purple dark.

“You’re right,” he said, his eyes roving the little square. “You want to be bolder, right?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, not sure where this was heading. “Yeah.”

“So let’s see it.”

“What?”

“Your game face.”

“Here?”

He nodded. “This is as good a place as any, right?”

“I’m not doing that—”

“Bigger, braver, bolder,” he reminded her. “Remember, it’s not about the face. It’s just about getting psyched up to do something.”

She stared at him, suddenly nervous. “Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“Anything,” he said, turning to hop up onto the stone ledge of the fountain. He stood there, grinning down at her in his shirtsleeves and too-tight pants, and Ellie couldn’t help laughing.

“You’re crazy.”

He reached out to her, and Ellie shrugged the sleeves of his jacket back to take his hand, stepping up there with him. Behind them, the water burbled in the fountain and the lights of the Plaza were moonlike and glowing. On the sidewalk, people continued to hurry down Fifth Avenue, paying no attention to the couple on the ledge. With a little frown, Ellie turned to face Graham.

“What now?” she asked, and he shrugged.

“You could tap-dance,” he suggested, doing a little jig right there on the fountain.

She shook her head.

“Sing?” he asked, pointing to the guy with the guitar.

“You must be joking.”

“Fine,” he said. “Shout?”

“This is stupid—”

“It’s not,” he said, grabbing her shoulders. “You said you wanted to take more chances. Well, now’s the time to get started.”

“Everyone will look.”

“This is Manhattan,” he said. “Nobody cares. Trust me.”

Ellie took a deep breath, turning to face the street. She hated that her heart was pounding even now, when this was nothing more than a silly game, when it didn’t mean anything.
Nobody’s looking
, she reminded herself.
Nobody cares.

Except Graham.

She glanced at him sideways. “What would I even say?”

“Say ‘I heart NY,’” he suggested, and she rolled her eyes. He shrugged, then spread his arms wide. “Fine, then…‘I’m the king of the world!’”

He yelled this last part, and she burst out laughing as an elderly man on a nearby bench looked over at them with a frown.

Graham’s cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were dancing. “Too much movie fluff?”

“Just a little.”

“Okay,” he said, thinking. “Then how about ‘I love Graham Larkin!’”

He half shouted this himself, and a group of girls who were cutting across the plaza glanced at him briefly before continuing on their way.

But Ellie just stared at him.

She knew how he meant it.

He meant it the way most people love him: like a fan, like a guy on a movie poster, like the figure on the red carpet.

He meant it as a joke.

But something about the words—even spoken as they were, full of humor and self-awareness and a little bit of scorn—tugged at something inside Ellie.

She was suddenly aware of how close they were, of the rush of water just behind them, a sound like the waves that night in Henley, when they’d huddled together above the wild and foamy ocean, and Graham had looked at her the same way he was looking at her now, his eyes burning a hole right through her.

“I love Graham Larkin,” she said quietly, her voice full of emotion, and there was a flicker of surprise on his face, and then his expression softened.

“You’re supposed to shout it,” he said, smiling as she tugged on the brim of the cap, forcing him to lower his face, bringing him closer and closer until their lips met. And even though they were in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world, lost in a sea of concrete and wood and metal, she could almost swear he tasted like the ocean.

As they approached the theater, Ellie dropped Graham’s hand.

They were greeted by an enormous poster for the movie, which was propped on an easel just inside the entrance. She’d missed it earlier because of the crowds, but now it stared down at them, huge and shiny and jarring: a nearly life-size picture of Graham, his mouth only inches away from Olivia’s.

Ellie stared at it, and Graham stared at her.

“No,” he said when she finally turned to him. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

Ellie put a reassuring hand on his arm. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to…I know you’re not that guy.”

“Exactly,” he said with a little nod. “I’m the guy who tap-danced on the edge of a fountain.”

“And whose best friend is a pig.”

“And who has a ketchup stain on his handkerchief,” he said, looking down at his suit with a frown, then rotating the handkerchief to hide the stain.

Ellie laughed. “And who carries a handkerchief.”

“See?” he said, pointing at the poster. “I’m not nearly as romantic in real life.”

“Well,” she said, reaching for his hand, “maybe a little.”

There was a security guard at the door to the lower lobby, but he seemed to recognize Graham immediately and stood back to let them pass without a word. Everyone else was still upstairs.

“I guess we should…” Ellie began, but then she saw a pair of legs appear on the escalator, and then a tie, and then the face of Harry Fenton, who bent to peer down at them with a look of relief.

“There you are,” he said, blinking fast as he stepped off the escalator. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Graham said, holding on tighter when Ellie tried to let go of his hand. “We were just on our way back up.”

“Well, good,” Harry said, glancing over at Ellie with a hint of a smile. “Enjoy the movie?”

“I did,” she said with a nod. “It was very…romantic.”

Harry looked to Graham. “They’re just about ready.”

“Be up in a minute,” Graham said in a way that managed to be polite without leaving room for argument, and Harry gave a weary sigh before walking over to the other escalator and stepping on.

“It was good to see you again, Ellie,” he said, already on his way up. “Hope it won’t be the last time.”

“Thanks for the tickets,” she called, but he was already gone.

When she turned back to Graham, he was watching her with an unreadable expression. Without saying anything, she slipped the dark jacket from her shoulders, holding it out for him. He took it, and for a moment both of them held on to it, their hands only inches apart, gripping the jacket as if it were something more binding than just fabric.

But then Ellie let go, and Graham sighed as he swung it over his shoulders again.

“I should go up there,” she told him, her eyes drifting to the escalator. “My friends are probably still in the theater. And you’ve got some questions to answer.”

“I guess I do,” he said, looking over her shoulder at the two theater employees, who were whispering to each other. This part of the lobby was glassed in on all sides, and suddenly, she could tell, he felt exposed. He grabbed her hand and walked her over to the dark wedge of space beneath one of the escalators, where they stood in the red glow of an emergency-exit light.

“I hate that we have to do this again,” she said, a gnawing feeling in her stomach that felt too familiar already.

“Yeah, but it’s different this time.”

“Is it?”

He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “We’ll see each other again.”

“We said that last time.”

“And here we are,” he said with a grin.

“That was just luck.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Or fate.”

“We’ll write,” she said, because she wasn’t sure she wanted to depend on fate again for something as important as this.

“We will,” he agreed, wrapping his arms around her.

“I wish I could see you again later. How long are you here?”

“Well, there’s an after-party,” he said, leaning back to look at her. “But I’m only stopping by for pictures, and then I’ve gotta fly to Manila.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” she said, letting her head fall against his chest again. “I’m going to straight to Paris after this.”

He laughed.
“Bon voyage.”

“Sayonara.”

“Happy trails.”

Upstairs, they could hear the sound of applause, a sign that the movie had come to an end and the credits were now rolling.

But still, it took them a long time to let go of each other.

When he finally pulled back, Graham’s eyes were rimmed with red. “I guess I’d better go.”

“Game face,” she told him, trying her best to imitate his, and he shook his head with a faint smile.

“Pathetic,” he said, taking her hand, and together, they walked around to the escalator, where they stood watching the metal steps at the bottom appear one after another like magic. After a moment, Graham leaned forward to kiss her one more time, and then he gave a helpless shrug before stepping on.

Ellie stood alone at the bottom, watching him get farther and farther away, waiting to see if he’d turn back to look at her once more, the way it always happens in the movies. But he didn’t.

Ellie could hear the applause when the panel was introduced: the actors and director, the writers and producers. Still, she didn’t go in. There was no point in torturing herself by watching him from afar. Her friends would find her out here when it was over.

The lobby was nearly empty, with just the girl behind the concession stand and a few people in line for the bathroom. There was a red velvet banquette beneath the huge chandelier, and she sat there for a while, watching the popcorn rise in the glass box, watching the security guard shift from foot to foot outside the door, watching two women who even she could tell must be publicists whispering furiously as they read something on their phones.

Every now and then, someone would walk out of the theater, and the door would open, the amplified voices of the panel drifting out. At one point, Ellie heard the sound of Graham’s laughter, and her leaden heart sank lower in her chest.

Finally her curiosity got the best of her, and she walked over uncertainly, pulling the door open just enough to slip through, then inching slowly along the dark corridor until she was standing at the very back of the aisle.

Onstage, a row of eight people sat on stools, and just beside them was a man at a podium. The enormous white screen above showed a close-up of the whole panel, and Ellie saw that Graham was in the middle, right between Mick and Olivia, his posture as casual and relaxed as if he were simply sitting in his kitchen at home, rather than on display before a thousand people.

She glanced to the right, where she could see the backs of her friends’ heads, and beside them the empty seat where she was supposed to be. But she stayed where she was, leaning against the wall, tucked back where nobody could see her.

Except Graham.

Even from a distance, even with a whole theater full of people between them, she saw him notice her there, saw his attention shift in her direction, and her whole body felt alive with it, tingling beneath that gaze of his. She stood up a little straighter, lifting her chin and staring right back at him.

“Any others?” asked the moderator, who was standing behind the podium. Dozens of hands shot up around the theater, and Ellie realized that this must be the audience portion of the question-and-answer period. In each aisle, there were a few ushers holding portable microphones, ready to run them over to whoever might be chosen.

But before the moderator could pick anyone, Graham raised his own microphone.

“Actually,” he said, his voice bouncing around the cavernous space, “I see someone in the back by the exits there.”

The whole crowd seemed to turn as one, swiveling in their seats to see who he was pointing at, and there was a moment of confusion when they couldn’t spot any raised hands.

“Where are you…?” said the moderator, a hand shading his eyes as he squinted out over the crowd. A bewildered usher had run halfway up the aisle and stood panting a little as he scanned the faces in the back.

“Yeah,” Graham said, the word echoing. “There by the exit.”

It took Ellie a moment to realize he was talking about her, and when she did, her face went prickly with heat. She started to take a step backward, but the usher had already zeroed in on her and was moving fast in her direction.

She glared across all that space at Graham, knowing he was too far away to see the look on her face. But all the lovely thoughts she’d been thinking about him—all the joy she’d been feeling over their unexpected reunion—drained right out of her.

She was going to kill him.

“Oh, yes,” the moderator was saying as the audience twisted in their seats to look at the red-faced girl in the back whom Graham Larkin had singled out. “Go ahead, then.”

The usher—a pale, bespectacled guy who couldn’t have been much older than Ellie—thrust the microphone at her so hard it made a little popping sound when it hit her in the stomach, and she fumbled it for a second before getting a good grip.

For a moment, everything stood still. She peered out across the enormous theater, the microphone slipping a little in her sweaty hand, and saw Lauren and Kara and Sprague watching her with baffled expressions, staring as if they didn’t really know her—which was true. They
didn’t
know her. Not really.

She was someone who had fallen in love with a movie star, even though it was a crazy thing to do.

She was someone who’d been determined to make it to Harvard, even though the odds were against her.

She was someone who stole a boat once, who took leaps, who was big and brave and bold, or who was at least getting closer.

She was someone who said
yes
.

As the silence lengthened, the moderator cleared his throat, then prompted her again: “Did you have a question?”

This time, Ellie lifted her eyes to the screen, half expecting to see Graham laughing. But instead, to her surprise, he scowled at her.

And then she knew.

He was giving her a chance to be that person.

As she watched, he mouthed two words, which were impossible to make out. But it didn’t matter. She knew what he was trying to say:
game face
.

When he saw that she understood, his face rearranged itself into a grin, and even from that far away, there was something so contagious about it, so genuine, that without quite meaning to, Ellie found herself smiling too.

The moderator asked her once more: “Is there anything you want to say?”

And this time, she lifted the microphone, her eyes still on Graham.

“Yes,” she said.