Rory
Oliver’s standing next to me, in line at the famous Stardust Diner. We’re about ten people back from the door, and every time it opens, upbeat music filters out, amping up my excitement.
“This place is fun, you’re gonna like it.” He says it so confidently, like he knows me.
But I guess, in a way, he kind of does. We’ve really gotten to know each other tonight, albeit in the most unorthodox way. Like, unedited, the way only two people who will never see each other again could.
There’s been something raw and unfiltered about this whole day. It’s like we skipped all the pretenses and efforts to impress each other, because what’s the point? We only have this moment on this day. I’ve kind of loved it.
Even just now, hanging out in Times Square. It wasn’t all tourist stuff with random characters overcharging for pictures. No, Oliver showed me all his favorite Broadway shows, talking about how much he loved them and how they inspired him as a kid.
He was so excited and alive that it made me love them too.
He never bragged or overexaggerated his success. In fact, he did the opposite. We talked about not knowing what the future holds. I even showed him my niece’s drama school back home as an example of what he could do instead of acting because I think he’d make such a good teacher.
And, in turn, he was looking up clubs I should join once I’m home to keep me social and not just focused on work.
That’s not something strangers do. And the smile it put on my face isn’t something that just a friend evokes either.
“Cold?” he breathes out when I shiver.
“It’s fine if we’re moving, but standing here is making me feel the hypothermia settling in.”
He laughs, taking my gloved hands, and puts them into his jacket pockets along with his own. I have to look up extra to see him because earlier he forced me to buy a Yankees hat as a keepsake of the day.
It was silly, but I also like that he wanted me to remember our day.
Not that I could ever forget, seeing as we took a hundred selfies, laughed for hours, people-watched to an elite degree. Resulting in witnessing three proposals, which is wild.
“I think we set a record for most marriage proposals in one night. What do you think? But also, why the day before Valentine’s, wouldn’t you want to wait?”
He looks at me thoughtfully for a second, then nods.
“Yeah, I thought the same. And I think you might be right, three is a lot in one day . . . That last one, though . . .”
I suck in a dramatic breath. “I know. I got a little worried for them too. Can you imagine spilling your heart out and someone being like, hard pass.”
We both laugh, moving up in the line again. And I don’t know why I ask the next question, but maybe it’s because something about Oliver makes me want to know everything about him.
“Have you ever been in love enough to think marriage?”
He shakes his head. “No, I’m honestly not sure I’ve ever really been in love. I’ve loved someone, but the kind of love that makes you want to spend your life with another person . . . no, I don’t think I’ve ever felt that.” He looks down at me as we inch closer to the door again. “What about you?”
“Hmm.” I scrunch my nose. “No, me neither. I guess I’ve always hoped that when I find the one, it’ll be love at first sight. The kind of love story where the guy says, After I left, I called my friend and said, ‘I just met the girl I’m gonna marry.’”
“Oooh, a hopeless romantic. You’re a dangerous breed.”
I roll my eyes. “Shut up. Love just feels like it should be fireworks and explosions. Something that rattles you all the way to your core.”
He smiles. “Hmm, yeah, I like that.”
I like him.
Oooh, I can’t tell if what’s making this night so special is the ticking clock or him . . . but there’s a voice in the back of my mind saying it’s not the expiration date.
And that’s making me feel a lot like Cinderella, because in six hours, I will turn back into a pumpkin and head out to California, never to see him again.
He looks at the door. I stare at his jawline. Another thought brews, one not as wholesome as the first.
There is still one last thing on the list. And I should really do that thing . . .
A smile blooms on my face.
“Two,” Oliver says to the host manning the door just before he pulls my hands from his pockets and leads me inside.
“Well?” he adds, looking at me, then around at all the people standing on tables singing throughout the two floors. “Does it live up?”
I grin because it does, except all I can think about is how fast we can eat because I’d really like to see if Oliver lives up as well.
Oliver
She must’ve been starving, because she wolfed her food down. Completely cleared her plate, and I’m still only halfway through my burger.
I smile as she politely wipes the corners of her mouth with her napkin before smiling at me.
“We should get the check?”
My face drops down to my unfinished plate, confused for a second. It feels like we just got here. Maybe she hates the music?
“Yeah, sure . . .” I motion to the waiter, who’s already on it.
Places like this love to turn and burn tables, and we’re right at closing, so he’ll be really quick.
“Do you hate it? Not what you’d hoped for?” I toss out, taking one more bite for the road.
She lets out what sounds like a nervous laugh before shaking her head and looking at her watch. It grabs my attention.
I stare, mid burger shoved into mouth, as she whispers, “It’s twelve oh one . . . that makes it Valentine’s Day. So I’d really like to check the last thing off my list. Wanna be mine?”
It takes a minute to register what she’s said, but I chew slower, watching her swallow down her nerves. Then I choke.
“Oh my god,” she squeals, reaching across the table to try to pat me on the back, but I’m humming a mouthful of, “Mm-hmm . . . mm-hmm.”
Hell yeah. We’re checking lists like Santa Claus.
I drop the rest of my food onto my plate, immediately standing and picking up my water to chug it while pulling out cash from my wallet.
Her eyes get wider by the second as I breathlessly motion for her hand, tossing bills on the table.
“Let’s go . . . Yep, come on. Get your jacket . . . get it.”
She giggles as we pass the waiter, and I say, “Cash is on the table. Keep it all.”
I’m sure she’s practically running behind me, but she gave the green light. I’m hitting the gas.
We’re barely out the door before I spin around and cradle her face because I can’t hold back anymore. My mouth crashes down onto hers, and I feel her whole body go lax. She wraps her arms around me as our lips press like the saints’ hands we went on about the first time we did this.
Oof. Her lips are perfect.
My fingers weave through her hair, our heads tilting. Somewhere in the distance, I hear clapping and a whistle, but I don’t care because I finally get to kiss the girl, and I want to make it last.
She pulls back, breathless, her hands gripping my wrists as she looks up at me hazily. One blink, then two, before her eyes tick toward the sky.
“Did you see that?” She huffs a quiet laugh. “Comets.”
But I shake my head because I’m looking at her. Only her. Those beautiful eyes meet mine again as she grins.
“Got any good ideas to pass the time? I’ve got about three hours . . .”
“Yeah,” I whisper, leaning in for another kiss. “I got a few.”
My eyes are still closed as I take a deep breath, the morning light shining through a split in my curtains trying to coax me awake. I smile, stretching, about to say her name when I realize . . .
Aw man . . .
She’s gone. I blink my eyes open, looking around. Last night, or technically this morning, was something else. It felt like magic, which is appropriate because now, poof, she’s disappeared.
I hear the words she said, staring down, sweat on her brow, and a smile on her face.
In another life we would’ve been something.
Yeah. I whisper-kissed the dip between her throat and collarbone. We would’ve been.
My head lolls to the side, hoping to pick up her scent from the pillow she slept on, but instead I see the bar napkin—the one she wrote the list on.
Each item’s crossed out, but my name has a heart around it. With an arrow straight through the middle.
I smile, picking it up, but as I do so, it folds, and that makes the smile ten times bigger because on the back in dark slashes is her number.
I’m reaching for my phone without hesitation, thankful that Benny left it in my room for me. The moment I program her into my phone, I send a text.
Me: I always knew you were the love em and leave em type. And on V Day of all days.
Bubbles come up, then go away, but my stomach keeps flipping.
Juliet: Leave em? I gave you my number. I could’ve just left you with the memory.
I laugh as another text comes in.
Juliet: But if you’re fishing for compliments, then you should know I only got onboard wifi for you. Now keep me company. This flight is long and the dude next to me just took his socks off. That’s not making me feel the love today.
Me: Disgusting. Hold, beautiful . . . Cupid’s calling the FAA . . .
One Week Later
Juliet: Hi.
Juliet: I was playing it cool and waiting for you to text first, but I’m impatient.
Me: What . . . I did text first. The morning you left.
Juliet: *sigh* That doesn’t count. The first time After the conversation is the most important. Duh. Everyone knows that.
Me: Got it. Hold on. Let me block you and then unblock you so we restart.
Juliet: hahaha. What are you doing?
Me: Thinking about that pizza rat. How’s the sun?
Juliet: Ewwww . . . and marvelous. Not that I see much of it. Work’s crazy, it won’t let up until the end of March. I fear I have no life again. How’s the snow?
Me: Jesus. Stop stalking me already . . . just say you miss me. You don’t have to lower yourself to the weather app.
Juliet: In another life.
Me: In another life.
Rory
Two Weeks Later
Romeo: Hear me out . . . green tea is basically hot spinach water.
Me: I need more information . . . are you comparing coloring or taste?
Romeo: Great question . . . color.
Me: Drink it.
Me: Do it. FaceTime me . . . I’m at lunch, I wanna watch.
Romeo: Oooh, kinky. I’m in.
Three Weeks Later
Me: Remember that girl I was telling you about?
Romeo: Birks with slacks?
Me: No . . . the other one.
Romeo: Ladybug barrettes as an adult?
Me: No . . . the other, other one
Romeo: Tofu and Nutella!
Me: Yes!!!! Get this, she has a picture on her desk of her and her boyfriend . . . they do long distance . . . guess what alpha from the New York pack she’s dating.
Romeo: Say it ain’t so . . . I guess there really is someone for everyone.
Me: Right. At least now you don’t have to worry about retaliation. I mean, you did kinda steal his girl.
Romeo: Kinda? She’s still talking to me almost three weeks later. I’d say she’s pretty much mine.
Me: Damn . . . in another life.
Romeo: Maybe . . . or we can just label it complicated and you can call me when you get off and we can FaceTime under the covers.
I laugh and bite my bottom lip. This should feel complicated. But it doesn’t. And I’m definitely going to call him.
Me: Okay.
Oliver
One Month Later
Juliet: Okay. You should know that I’m the most productive person today.
So you can stop harassing me for never leaving my apartment.
I got my ticket to see my niece’s play .
. . which btw is a “modern-day” version of Romeo and Juliet.
How cute right? Got my car washed. Paid all my bills .
. . and managed to finally unpack the last box in my apartment.
Me: Look at you go! Wait a minute . . . did someone steal your identity. Is this really my Juliet?
Rory sends me a selfie of her standing outside next to her clean car blowing a kiss.
Me: Undeniable. She’s a beauty. Obviously I’m talking about the car.
Juliet: Duh.
Me: Also, way to be the boss of your day. K, my turn . . .
Juliet: Thank you. Thank you very much.
Me: I have news as well . . .
Me: Are you ready?
Juliet: Spill
Me: Are you sitting down?
Juliet: Oliver!!!!!
Me: I got a job.
FaceTime starts ringing.
“Shut up!” she screams, bouncing up and down. “That’s amazing, Ollie!”
I laugh, unable to get a word in because she’s not stopping.
“What show? Is it off Broadway? On? Are you a principal? I’m booking a ticket to come see you onstage!”
She shimmies her shoulders, making me smile harder. And feel even more nervous that I’m telling a little white lie.
“I actually booked it a couple of weeks ago, but I didn’t want to jinx anything until everything was signed and done. Opening night is April 10.”
She frowns. “That’s my niece’s play, but let me know the run dates and when they go on sale because I’m sitting front row. I’m so proud of you. You deserve all the things.”
God, the way she smiles hits me right between the eyes.
“Thank you.” I’m staring at how pretty she is, not wanting to get off the phone, so I add, “Where are you going right now?”
“Well,” she draws out. “Since it’s my only day off this week, I’m going to hang with my sister . . .” She narrows her eyes. “Where are you? That doesn’t look like your place.”
I bring the phone closer to my face. “Benny did some redecorating.”
She nods, chuckling. “Call me later? We can binge Netflix and gossip about all the weirdos in my office, Barrettes and Tofu got into an argument over sourdough bread starters. It was riveting.”
I grin. “Done. Text me when you get to your sister’s.”
She salutes me. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
“Hey,” I toss out, unable to help myself. “I miss you. Is that crazy . . . I only had ya for a day, but I do . . . miss you.”
She blinks into the phone and grins, her voice quieter. The way it always gets when she gets shy. “I miss you too. I don’t really know what we’re doing, but I don’t want it to stop. Is that okay?”
I nod, just staring at her before we hang up, because this girl is extraordinary, and I know she’s going to change my life.