Chapter 19
After I get off the phone with Evie to debrief about my date with Ben (she screams when I tell her about the kiss), I get
ready for bed and crawl under the covers with my laptop to put the last touches on the shelter videos. As soon as I’m done
and am waiting for the files to finish compressing, I text Luke.
ME:
I finally finished editing the videos. Thank u for your service
I see dots appear and then disappear. Then, finally, after a minute, he texts me:
LUKE:
Hey, do u mind waiting to put those up?
ME:
How come? And for how long?
Again, the dots on his end appear, but then nothing else comes through. I don’t understand why he’s being cagey about this. I wait for twenty minutes, but there’s still nothing from him, so I text again.
ME:
?? Sorry, it’s just that Martina asked me to upload them asap
A few minutes after I send that, my phone rings. It’s Luke.
“Hey,” he says. “Sorry. Am I calling too late?”
“No. What’s up?”
“So it’s about the videos.” By the tone of his voice, I can tell whatever he’s about to say is not good news.
“Okay . . .” I say, waiting for him to go on.
“I’m so sorry, but Cal asked that we not use them,” he says.
“What? Why not?”
“I don’t know, it’s so stupid. Something about brand purity,” Luke says. “He likes to approve everything I do, media-wise,
and he said if I’m going to do a thing with a shelter, he wants it to be a national campaign with the ASPCA or something,
not little videos for a local shelter.”
The way he says “little videos” stings. “But can’t you just . . . do it anyway? Like, you don’t have to listen to Cal, do you?”
There’s a long pause on his end. “I mean, I kind of do.”
I take that in. Even as a kid, Luke didn’t like making decisions for himself. He’s always wanted someone at the helm, steering
the ship of his life. In that way, I guess he hasn’t changed at all. “Oh . . . okay.”
“Cee, I am so, so sorry,” he says, and he sounds it, which helps, just a little. “How can I make this up to you? I’ll do anything.”
For obvious reasons I can’t say “go back in time and don’t offer to help, because all it will do is create double work for
me.” Frankly, I’m not shocked that he’s doing this. Luke is not a reliable person in my life. He never has been, and he’s
not about to start being that person now. Or ever. So even though I am upset about this, I say, “You know what, don’t worry
about it.”
“Are you sure?” Luke hates conflict, hates when anyone is mad at him. It’s probably why he avoided talking to me about this
until I forced him to.
“Yeah. It’ll be fine.”
“Okay. As long as you’re sure. Are we still on for Wednesday?”
“Yep. Still on.”
“Great. I can’t wait to see you,” he says.
“Me too,” I say. Which makes me so annoyed with myself, because it’s true.
The next morning, I text Martina a long, apologetic message about not being able to use the videos with Luke. She texts me
back a curt, Ok. That’s disappointing, and that’s it. I don’t think I have enough footage of the animals without Luke in the shot, so I’ll have to go back and reshoot them at some point.
At school, and I’m not sure why, I go out of my way to avoid Ben. Which is funny, because I do like him. I’ve liked him since June. I think about him kissing me all day. As I do, I have that out-of-body experience I
sometimes get, where I inspect the moment from many different angles. Was I leaning toward him? Did he have his hands in my
hair? I can’t remember. During my free period, I even let my mind spool out, imagining a future where we did become exclusive. Maybe boyfriend-girlfriend exclusive.
I imagine a reality where I even tell him the truth.
Spending time with Luke has felt like exposure therapy, in a way. Bit by bit, I’m merging back with my younger self, and it
hasn’t been as painful as I thought it would be. Maybe I could tell Evie first, and then Ben. Ben would probably be the kind
of boyfriend who’d rub my back while I divulged the hidden truths and secrets about myself and then take me out for frozen
yogurt after. We could date for the summer before we went our separate ways for college. It would be neat and tidy. It would
be easy.
And is wanting something easy such a bad thing?
After school, Luke texts me a selfie of him standing next to an engraved metal plaque on a building in the city called “The
St. Claire.”
Maybe he’s in New York to run lines with Ana?s. Or with the older actor who’s playing the teacher his character had a sexual
relationship with and then murdered, Julia Levinson. Maybe he’s extra committed to his role and is sleeping with them both
in real life, too.
And if he is, good for him. I send him a heart for the picture, and then close out of our messages without texting him anything more.
Evie is bereft on Tuesday when I ask if she wants me to bring Luke to Eddie’s again the next afternoon. I’m over at her house
after school lying on her bed with a skincare face mask on. Janet buys them in bulk at H Mart and keeps them in the fridge.
It feels deliciously cool against my skin. It probably feels extra good because of the knowledge that Todd is coming to our
house for dinner tonight and I was already invited to eat at Evie’s, so I get to avoid seeing him.
“He has a dentist’s appointment,” she wails. “Of all the days he could have gotten his teeth cleaned, why did his dad schedule
it on a day that we could be hanging out with Lucas Cordova? Maybe we can hang out later? At, like, nighttime?”
“It’s a school night,” I remind her. I can’t open my mouth too much because otherwise the mask will slip off to the side.
“And you can still call him Luke when he’s not here.”
“Fine, yes, Luke,” she says. “And it’s senior year. Who cares if it’s a school night?”
I give her a look, and she relents.
“You’re such a good influence,” she says, but her tone implies the opposite.
“Next Wednesday,” I tell her. Although I’m not sure if Luke and I will still be doing . . . whatever it is we’re doing next week. It’s already October 20. This is our second week of him shadowing me. The agreement was only for a couple of weeks before they start shooting in early November.
The new sign-up sheet came out today for Helping Hands, a club both Evie and I are part of. After I take my mask off, we spend
ten minutes coordinating our volunteer shifts at the local food bank, and we both sign up to help at the Thanksgiving food
drive next month.
“I need your advice,” Evie says suddenly. She closes her laptop, hops off the bed, and goes into her closet. I can hear her
rifling through drawers and slamming them. When she comes back out, she’s holding two pairs of matching bras and underwear.
“Which do you like better?”
One is white with a rose print and lacy red bottoms. The other is powder blue with white lace trim. Both sets still have the
tags on them. Wait, no. They’re not underwear. They’re lingerie.
I sit up fast. “The blue. What are they for?”
Evie skips toward the bed and giggles in a way that’s unlike her. “I don’t know. Stuff.”
I shriek. “You and Eddie?”
Given how long they’ve been together, I’m pretty sure every other person at school thinks they’ve had sex—even though they
haven’t. Not yet, anyway. Evie doesn’t have any hang-ups, and she loves and trusts Eddie, she just hasn’t been ready yet.
Until now, at least.
“I think so. I haven’t told him yet, though.”
Once I’m over the shock of it, we spend the next hour brainstorming.
Whether there should be candles, flowers, rose petals, or if Evie should wear the new lingerie under her school clothes and casually surprise Eddie after school at his house.
Evie thinks she might want to wait until Thanksgiving break, but she isn’t one hundred percent sure.
Even though it’s not me we’re planning for, the whole thing makes me feel giddy and nervous. I both can’t believe neither of us has done it yet, and also that we’re old enough that the idea
of having sex with someone isn’t totally inappropriate. I feel impossibly young and old at the same time.