24 Roxie
Roxie
I stared at the glowing screen of my laptop, my fingers poised over the keyboard as I refreshed the homepage of Eat the City—our brand-new website. We had no reviews yet, but the branding with some of my pictures was already up, and I couldn’t stop pulling it up to look at it.
It felt unreal, like I was finally achieving the dreams I’d had for myself before I ever left for NYU.
I was no longer stuck in that art gallery just pretending to care about things that didn’t move me; no more hiding behind someone else’s art.
This was mine. Our vision. Hallie and I had built this from the ground up, and every pixel on the page felt like a small rebellion against the life my family had always planned for me.
My grandmother would be so proud.
The day that Hallie quit her job because her boss published the article slandering James and attributed Hallie’s name to it, we decided that our first review would be of his family’s restaurant in Brooklyn—Rossi Pizzeria.
It wasn’t a ploy of hers to get him back. It’d actually been my idea, but I knew she liked the thought of it as a way to make amends with James and his family for the article, even if he refused to talk to her.
As we sat in the cab, Hallie glanced at me sideways. “So … have you heard from Sebastian?”
I stiffened, my grip tightening around my bag strap. “No.”
The word tasted like bitterness and relief all at once. Some days I wondered if I would ever be free of him.
Hallie gave me a sad look as if she could see the war happening in my mind. “Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” she suggested. “A clean break.”
“Maybe,” I said, but the word came out too quiet, like I didn’t believe it. I hadn’t told Hallie I’d blocked Seb.
A clean break sounded nice in theory—neat, painless, like slicing through ribbon. But Seb wasn’t ribbon. He was tangled fishing line, knotted into everything, and no matter how much I tried to pull myself free, he only wound himself tighter around me.
I was beginning to think that he had never truly even left me this past decade. I’d just grown used to carrying a piece of him with me everywhere I went.
Hallie stared at her phone like it might suddenly deliver the miracle she’d been waiting for—a message from James somehow, like now we were taking action, the universe might suddenly answer her prayers.
I, on the other hand, focused on reality.
On the plan. I thought about the angles I could shoot the pizzeria.
How I could frame the Brooklyn Bridge just so behind the iconic architecture of the building.
Or the warmth of the flames from the wood-fired oven hitting the crust just right.
The bubbling cheese stretching in the perfect shot-worthy pull.
I thought about captions, about the layout of the home page, and about the way the article would look on the website.
By the time we reached Brooklyn, my pulse had steadied as my mind drifted to how the world might notice us after a story like this.
The streets were alive with the Friday-night buzz.
There were couples holding hands, delivery bikes weaving through traffic, and the faint thrum of music through an open bar door.
Rossi Pizzeria came into view on the corner, all warm glow and chatter spilling into the street. The smell of garlic and oregano hit me before we even reached the door, and my stomach growled like it knew it was about to be spoiled.
Hallie slowed, her sneakers scuffing the sidewalk. “Rox … what if they tell me to get lost?”
I nudged her forward. “Then we take a pizza to go and eat it on the curb while you cry on my shoulder. Come on. You’ve faced bigger dragons than this.”
She huffed out a laugh, but it was thin and shaky.
I opened the door, letting the warmth wash over us. We made our way into the restaurant where a woman with dark curls pulled back in a bun stood behind the hostess stand. She looked strikingly like James.
Her eyes landed on Hallie. She froze for a heartbeat, then her face softened into a smile.
Hallie held it together for maybe two seconds before a tiny sob escaped her.
I knew she was worried they’d seen the article, and that they’d kick her out immediately if they had.
But that was my best friend to a T. She always faced up to hard things, even if it meant she’d be kicked to the curb.
“Hallie,” the woman said as she opened her arms wide. “Are you here for lunch?”
She walked Hallie over to a table in the back like she was in a daze. More people that looked exactly like James started talking to her, and I could feel the relief radiating from her. I stayed back to give her a moment while I scouted the restaurant to see how I would want to capture it.
And then I saw him.
Sebastian.
At first, I thought I must have been seeing things. My mind was playing tricks on me.
But there he was, sitting at a corner table, half in shadow, with a pitcher of water on the table, and a half-eaten margherita pizza in front of him. He was completely alone. He hadn’t noticed me yet.
My first instinct was to back up, slip out the door, and pretend I’d never set foot in Rossi Pizzeria. But my feet stayed rooted to the worn black-and-white tile floor, my pulse thudding so loud I was sure the entire restaurant could hear it.
Sebastian looked different, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on why.
His hair was a little longer and unkempt, curling just slightly at the nape of his neck.
He had a couple of days’ worth of stubble, enough to soften the sharp lines of his jaw, though not enough to hide the fact that he looked unfairly, infuriatingly good.
But he mostly just looked tired.
He poured himself a glass of water, completely absorbed in whatever was on his phone, and for a fleeting second, I let myself think maybe I could just …
slip past. Avoid eye contact. Pretend the universe wasn’t playing one of its cruel little jokes by planting him in my line of sight, tonight of all nights.
When I was trying to focus on my best friend and my career. The last thing I needed was to see him.
I shifted my camera bag higher on my shoulder, took one careful step toward the far side of the restaurant.
His head lifted as if he could sense me.
Those familiar eyes landed on me. His mouth dropped open like I was the last thing he expected but the only thing he could see.
Something flickered in them. Surprise, maybe?
He glanced down at his phone and then back up at me as if he was making sure I was real.
My chest went tight.
We stared at each other for what felt like an entire minute, though it couldn’t have been more than a breath.
The noise of the pizzeria blurred into a distant hum.
I was seventeen again, in the middle of a summer night, hearing his laugh from across a crowded lawn.
Picking it out like it was second nature.
Then, slowly, the corners of his lips curved up just enough to give me a sad smile.
I hated how the sadness on his face made me feel. Made me want to do anything to make it go away.
I couldn’t hear him, but I watched as his lips formed my name. And yet he still didn’t move from his table to cross the room toward me.
Don’t do it, I told my feet.
We were only ten tables apart, maybe less, but it felt like an ocean. Every instinct in me wanted to swim across, to ask how he was doing, why he looked so sad, if he’d thought about me constantly just like I’d thought about him.
But instead, I made myself look away.
The leather strap of my camera dug into my shoulder as I pulled it around to the front. My fingers found the cool weight of the lens, grounding me. This was why I was here. My job. My future. The thing I’d fought to carve out for myself when the rest of my life felt like someone else’s blueprint.
I forced my attention to the golden light spilling from the wood-fired oven, the steam curling from a freshly baked pie as a server slid it onto a waiting table.
I found the perfect angle near the bar—shooting past the glint of wineglasses toward the laughter in the back corner where Hallie was now deep in conversation with James’s family, a smile on her face.
But my chest stayed tight.
Every time I lifted my camera to my eye, my gaze snagged on him in my periphery. Sebastian’s gaze never once left me. His expression was unreadable. It was as though he was relishing each second he spent looking at me. But still neither of us moved to cross the room.
It was the most excruciating stalemate I’d ever been in.
As I kept clicking the shutter, I tried to ignore the frantic hammering in my chest. The warmth that crept up my face was just the kitchen’s heat, I told myself.
I packed up slowly once the shot list was complete. Hallie smiled at me from across the room, and I nodded—our signal that I had what we needed. I didn’t want to rush her, not when she looked the happiest she had in weeks.
Only then did I let myself glance back toward the corner table.
Sebastian’s plate was empty. The pitcher of water sat untouched. The chair across from him empty.
And his eyes—God, those eyes—were still locked on me.
I swallowed hard, adjusted my bag, and turned away before I could go back on the promise I’d made to myself to never let him back in.
I sat down with Hallie in a window seat, and as we photographed and devoured a sample of every single dish from the menu that James’s family had so generously prepared for us, I had to fight with every fiber of my being not to break down and cry.