38. SEVEN YEARS AGO
THIRTY-EIGHT
SEVEN YEARS AGO
SPRING, SENIOR YEAR
PAIGE
“It’s fucking weird,” Linc groaned, and I breathed a laugh, resting my chin on his chest.
“Your mom has been single for almost a decade and works eighty hours a week. She deserves to have a little fun,” I said, sitting up.
He laid flat on his back, staring aimlessly up at the ceiling like he was looking at different routes on a map, and I had to suck my lips into my mouth to keep from smiling.
Christine had the night off, so Linc, Maisie, and I made chili, and about halfway through dinner, Christine announced that she’d been seeing someone since Christmas—almost four months ago. A doctor from the hospital.
And Linc had been a fidget Bridgette ever since. “Hey,” I said quietly, and he looked over at me. I pushed a dark wave off his forehead, then said, “At least it’s someone she met at work, ya know? It’s not like she’s been sneaking around—taking time away from you guys to actively go out and meet someone.”
He sat quietly for a second, then shook his head. “No,” he said through a sigh. “I mean, even if she were, I would understand. God knows she deserves someone good after my dad. But I just . . . I don’t know—how do you know whether or not someone’s good? How do we know this guy isn’t a complete dickhead—or worse than the sperm donor?”
My eyebrows hitched. This was a bit deeper of a conversation than I was ready for, but I shrugged. “Instinct, I guess. Either that, or they prove themselves trustworthy.”
He huffed, “Helpful, Pip,” and I had to keep fighting the urge to smile.
It really is fucking cute— him being protective over his mom. But I took the moment to lighten the mood—mess with him a little. It’s what we did when life was life-ing.
I smirked. “You’re just pouting because your mom is a grown-ass woman with a sex life now—a hard fact you’ve gotten to ignore until this very moment,” I teased.
He scoffed. “Ugh. You are the worst. Kick me while I’m down, why don’t ya?” He shoved his face into his pillow.
I chuckled, nuzzling myself into his self-smothering. He playfully pushed away from me —and it began. We might as well have heard the ding, ding, ding of the match start.
I dove into him, but he grabbed both of my wrists and held me back. In an instant, he swiped my feet out from under me, and I flailed to the mattress with a yelp.
“Damn you, and your two-a-days!” I cursed, and he laughed as he caught both of my wrists with one hand, freeing up his other one, and immediately started to tickle my sides.
I howled with laughter, my cheeks aching. I couldn’t breathe—“Stop, stop, stop!” I laughed, and his fingers halted, but his hand stayed on my stomach.
He was straddling my waist while his other hands still held my wrists. His dark hair fell forward a bit, hugging his hazel stare gleaming down at me, as the playful energy shifted.
Neither one of us said anything, but I pinned my lip between my teeth, our eyes passing a silent exchange. The same one that’s lingered between us since we started dating six months ago.
We still hadn’t gone further than over-the-clothes touching—but we kissed and touched like it had become one of our basic human needs.
And I mean, wasn’t it?
But there was . . . something keeping us from going further.
Truthfully, our very infrequent alone time played a huge part in that. If we weren’t at school or some rehearsal, or working—Linc was usually watching Maisie, or we had plans with Ellis. Gram and I were also pretty sure our house was falling apart, room by room.
There was just . . . a lot going on. And right now, we couldn’t do too much . . . Maisie and Christine were home.
But the mischief in Linc’s eyes only seemed to grow as he lightly brushed his fingers over my belly button.
There was a gap between my leggings and my cropped black tank top, and his fingers slowly kept traveling north. My breath caught when he reached just below my ribs.
He stopped and his gaze sunk into mine. A silent question.
Yes or no?
After just an inhale, my chin dipped with a nod, my lips trembling as his mouth closed over mine, licking and nibbling before his tongue brushed over my teeth —God, the way this boy worshiped my mouth— it was fucking divine.
His hands still tightly held my wrists as he resumed his movement below my shirt. Our noses brushed as he kept kissing me and his hand finally reached my breast, cupping it roughly, as he groaned. “God, fuck,” he hissed, and my hips pulsed up on instinct. It was the only way I could reach him without the use of my hands.
I could feel his cock straining under his pants, pressed hard against me. He hummed low against my lips, as his fingers closed around my nipple, tweaking it just a bit, and I gasped before he caught my lips with his again.
He kissed back toward my ear and whispered, “Gonna have to be quiet,” his voice low and hoarse as he flattened his finger and rubbed the pebbled, tightening flesh at an agonizingly delicious cadence.
“Ohh,” I whimpered, then bit my lip, breathing heavily.
A small grunt pushed against my temple as he started to massage my whole tit and my mouth fell open on a silent gasp.
“Fuck, Pip. You look so pretty like this.” His hoarse whisper brushed along my neck as he kissed along my jaw. I started to pant as he still diligently teased my nipple with his fingers, then rumbled, “So fucking pretty when I’m touching you.”
If I looked anything like I felt, I imagined it to be an open flame flickering —trying not to blow away. My skin was burning, his touch an explosive mist. And fuck— his mouth— whether it was pressing against mine or muttering dirty thoughts.
Like he just couldn’t help it . . .
I’m fucking addicted.
His hazel eyes peered down at me, my body thrumming with anticipation of his next move. He surprised me when his hand finally let go of my wrists, and I immediately raked my fingers through his hair and pulled his mouth to mine.
As our tongues tangled and stroked, I lost myself to the sensation of his mouth—a mouth I’d known nearly my whole life. Blowing bubbles in the creek, sharing water bottles and hot chocolates—popsicles.
This is how we should be using our mouths, I thought, then suddenly wondered if maybe that was at least part of the reason we were . . . savoring it all. Taking it slow.
We were both definitely enjoying the physical addition to our relationship, but it was also still new. The first new thing either one of us had really gotten to learn about each other in a long time.
And I was fucking into it.
The discovery, the teasing.
He moaned quietly into my mouth just as he started to play with my other nipple, but a sudden knock at the door stopped us dead in our tracks.
I sat up quickly, pulled down my shirt, and ran my fingers through my hair. Linc chuckled as he rolled off of me, though there was more of a grunt to it than usual. He adjusted himself as best he could, but grabbed a small pillow and put it over his lap before he mumbled, “Come in.”
Maisie wanted us to all watch Back to the Future together, and since the Morrows didn’t all get much family time, of course we obliged.
“I think Marty McFly was my first crush,” I processed out loud, turning down “Cat and Mouse” by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus . I kept my hand on Linc’s knee as he drove, and he took the final drag off his cigarette with a small chuckle.
“Really?” His eyebrows raised, darting his gaze to me and then back out toward the road. “That’s so different than . . . Wolverine,” he said with a smile.
I pulled my lips into my mouth, nodding. “Yeah, but Marty’s kind of a pioneer badass—skateboarding on the back of cars — the tardiness. And the guitar?” I made a phew sound and Linc laughed. A beat passed and I asked, “How about you?”
He flicked his cigarette out the window and held my hand on his lap, but then pulled it up to his mouth, kissing a small trail from my index knuckle to my thumb, watching the road.
I absently wondered if he even noticed he was doing it—if he’d heard my question—but my head leaned against the headrest, just enjoying the view.
God, he was hot. And mine.
We came to a stoplight and he shrugged. “I was always a fan of the girl who starred in all of my movies.”
I snorted. “Come on,” I said with a laugh.
“Okay, okay,” he laughed, thinking for a second. “Ty in Clueless .”
My eyes widened. “Brittany Murphy as the quirky tomboy in a chick flick?!”
He laughed. “I’m literally surrounded by women! What do you expect . . . woman?!”
We both laughed, but it was cut off after a few seconds at the sound of Linc’s phone ringing.
He dug through his back pocket as we pulled onto my street, and he glanced down at the screen, eyebrows pinching.
“Who is it?” I asked.
He pulled into the driveway and said, “Jeremy.”
Mr. Harris? When did they exchange numbers?
The film festival had come and gone. Linc didn’t win . . .
So . . . I had no fucking clue why our teacher would be calling him on a Friday night, but he flicked his eyes to me and my lips pulled back with a shrug.
Just as we pulled into my driveway, Linc picked up the phone. “Hello?”
LINC
“Hey, Linc. Sorry to bother you, but I just got word from one of the directors of the festival. He said they’re going to do a screening of the finalist’s shorts for some agents and other directors tomorrow down in Old Town. Just wanted to see if maybe you guys wanted to make the trip down there?”
“Oh, shit,” slipped out, my eyes widening as I looked over at Paige and her eyebrows lifted.
Her lips puckered and then opened with a silent, “What?” and I shrugged.
“Uh—I’m with Paige right now, but I think she has to work tomorrow.”
She nodded, confirming. In my head, I was pretty sure Ellis could go, but he was still not the biggest Jeremy fan after the play last month, and I didn’t really feel like fielding that for an entire day.
Keeping my eyes with Paige, I said, “I—uh—I’ll talk with Paige and give you a call back.”
“Okay,” Jeremy said, through the phone. “Even if just one of you is available, it’ll look good to anyone that’s interested.”
I nodded. “Yeah. I understand, I’ll give you a call back in a few.”
“Sounds good,” he said.
I hung up and filled in Paige, and she confirmed again that she was working tomorrow. And I knew that, I just . . . I wanted her to go too.
“When did you give Mr. Harris your number?” she asked, curiously.
I shrugged. I hadn’t really thought about it. “Back when we started shooting for Moon .” Does she think it’s weird?
I watched her carefully, but nothing about her face or body language read as something alarming, mostly processing, but then she smiled. “Well . . . “ she added, “You should be there. It’s your movie afterall. We were just the puppets.” She lifts my arms, in a goofy way—like she’s playing with a marionette.
My mouth pulled up —Goddamn, she is so fucking cute.
I quickly pulled her onto my lap from the passenger’s seat. She situated each of her legs on the sides of my hips and cradled my jaw.
“Go. Make us look good,” she said, her eyes glistening from the moonlight shining in through the windshield.
“What will I do without the moon, though?” I teased, running my hand up the small curve of her ass, up her back.
Everywhere she’d let me.
She giggled and leaned down, taking my lips, kissing me senseless, whisper singing between our mouths.
“ I’ll be, I’ll be,
Waiting for you.
That’s what you don’t see
My love, that’s what you don’t see.
I’ll be, I’ll be. ”
After calling Jeremy back, he’d offered to drive us down to Old Town together—which was great from a financial standpoint.
We were only about twenty minutes away, and despite my small bout of anxiety about how awkward it would be to take a day trip with my teacher—it had actually been pretty fun.
But it shouldn’t have surprised me—despite Jeremy’s oddball theater ventures, we had a lot in common—one of them obviously being a love of film.
“Have you watched Jean-Marc Vallée’s stuff?”
Jeremy nodded. “Yes, but I’m a little surprised you have, though I guess I shouldn’t be. He’s one of my favorite directors,” he said inquisitively.
I kept the pride in my chest, but felt my lips curl up.
After losing the film festival —well, not losing, but not winning either. Third place won me a letter in the mail and an advertising spot for the movie in the production company’s magazine. A piece of literature I was wholeheartedly certain was being used for toilet paper somewhere.
But all of that aside, I wanted to redeem myself with Jeremy, I guess. Not that I had any control over that with the screening today, but impressing him this way was something.
“Vallée likes the tight shots,” Jeremy said, knowingly.
I smiled, nodding. “Yeah, I mean, clearly, he likes using his handhelds, and with the angles he finds, it’s almost as if the lens is just another set of eyes in the room. The silent POV. Fucking brilliant.”
“Definitely,” Jeremy agreed. And just as the conversation settled, my nerves kicked up again as I saw the signs for the venue of where the screening was happening, and my heart rate increased as I took in all the cars.
“Decent turnout,” Jeremy said, and I worked to even out my expression. This looked like a pretty big fucking turnout to me.
There were no free parking spots I could see, as my eyes drifted around the building, looking for the closest smoking area around the sea of cars.
I saw one off to the side of the entrance.
“Do you mind if I hop out and run to the bathroom real quick?” I asked him, hoping the lie was smooth.
“Of course not,” Jeremy said, still scanning the parking lot. “I’ll meet you inside.”
With a nod, I unbuckled my seatbelt, muttering, “Cool, thanks,” then opened the door and slid out, heading straight toward the pole marked Smoking Area, already reaching for my pack.
As soon as I lit one, I pulled out my phone, feeling my pulse still racing.
I wish Paige was here.
And as soon as the phone was free from my pocket, I saw a text from the beauty I was just thinking of—
Pip
I’m regretting not marking your head with a “Property of Paige”stamp. Tell the other hoes (actresses) to beat it. Please and thank you.
I felt my lips pulling up as I took a drag of my cigarette, texting her back with the other hand.
Me
So weird. Brittany Murphy circa 1995 is here.
My smile grew, knowing the scrunched face she would make in response. The blue color in her eyes would darken, weaving a comeback.
Pip
AS IF! I’m on my way.
I smiled again. It was just what I needed. She was always just what I needed. And I really wished she was on her way.
Me
Wish you were here. Love you.
Pip
Love you too. Kick ass, take names, come home.
I took another breath, another drag.
I can do this. I mean, really, all I have to do is sit there, I thought.
To my knowledge, directors weren’t being expected to talk after their films —just mingle.
Ugh. I smoked my cigarette down to the filter before finally going inside to meet Jeremy.
It was a strange feeling. Being in a room full of people, watching something I created with my two best friends—and neither one of them were here.
My mouth sloped in the safety of the dark theater. At least Jeremy was here, sitting next to me, as the final minutes of Without the Moon played.
And if I had ever denied it —which I hadn’t— it was so fucking clear in the way this movie turned out that Paige, was in fact, my muse. Every shot worshiped her.
The sustained, intimate shots held a yearning in the camera lens I could see just from watching it. I couldn’t be sure if it was the big screen or the fact that I wished so badly she was here, but the sight was fucking breathtaking.
Paige and Ellis’s final kiss awarded us a few contented sighs.
But it was the stillness in the theater after the final shots—the lapping waves on the rocks, glistening from the moonlight above just as the credits started to roll.
Whispers and then . . . applause.
A lot of it.
After the screening ended, there was a schmooze fest—one lacking booze or weed or anything to make it more entertaining. But there was a pretty impressive food spread, so I camped out by that table.
Jeremy had gone to the bathroom, and I definitely needed his help if I was expected to really talk to anyone.
A man walked up to the buffet table as I popped a shrimp in my mouth. A beat passed, and I could feel him looking over at me in my peripherals, so I turned my chin and looked back over at him.
With a plate in his hand, he gave a quick smile. He looked a bit older—older than Jeremy, for sure, given that he had a healthy dose of gray hair, more wrinkles around his mouth—a small scar on his upper lip.
He took a step in my direction, then said, “Hey, you’re Lincoln Morrow, right? The kid who did the moon movie?”
I nodded awkwardly, my eyebrows pinching just as he shook his head. “Sorry,” he said, quickly putting down his plate. “I’m Dylan Mirth. I’ve known Jeremy for a long time. He had told me to keep a lookout for your film today. It was fucking great, man.”
I smiled, dipping my chin graciously, then extended my hand —a power move as Ellis had said, being the first one to initiate the handshake— and Dylan reached out too. “Nice to meet you,” I said.
He went on and on about how impressed he was that I shot everything myself and the praise was lifting my confidence. “And your leading lady—” he said with an impressed shake of his head. “She was outstanding.”
Now that I could talk about. I nodded. “Yeah. She’s amazing. She does a lot of theater. Beautiful singing voice, obviously as you saw in the film.”
Jeremy joined us at that moment, and I was grateful for the help. Dylan seemed nice enough but part of the reason I liked doing the behind the scenes shit was because it was just that. Meant to be unseen.
After they caught up for a minute, Dylan looked back over to me. “Do you think she would be interested in reading some sides for a movie I’m shooting down here in a couple of months? It’s an indie project, so it’s nothing major, but I think she’d be perfect for one of the leads.”
Jeremy nodded, with an enlightened, “Ahh,” just before he looked over at me, “I’ve read the script. It’s good. Dark. Paige could definitely sink her teeth into it.”
It felt weird to answer for her, but I nodded, knowing she’d want me to say yes to any interest the industry was throwing her way.
“Yeah, of course,” I said quickly, realizing I still hadn’t responded. “I’m sure she’d love to. I can write down her email, so you can send her the sides.”
“Perfect,” Dylan said. “It’ll be some time this week. And Jeremy is helping me with some of the camera work, so there will be at least one familiar face.”
I nodded, chewing my lip. I didn’t know how Paige would feel about that. I knew she wasn’t as bothered by Jeremy as Ellis was, but I don’t think she’d find his presence comforting by any means. But maybe if she worked with him, got to know him a little better . . .
Dylan cut off my thought as he asked me about the lighting effects and sound editing, which looped Jeremy into the conversation.
We stayed for about another hour. I gave out my contact information to a few smaller studio heads that were interested in my camera work—so, it would appear that it was definitely worth it to come.
But at a certain point I made eye contact with Jeremy, and saw the exact same expression staring back at me in the way of his tired brown eyes and grimaced mouth. “Can we get the hell out of here?”
I nodded emphatically, and he chuckled. We stopped by the small production team who had organized the event on our way out, thanking them —bullshit, bullshit— then headed back out toward the car.
Instinctively, I dug my hand through my pocket to grab my cigarettes, pulling them out before I remembered.
I’m in front of a teacher.
Jeremy’s eyes peered over at me and he rustled back the longer brown strands of hair off his forehead. “Can I bum one?”
My eyes widened. I wasn’t exactly expecting him to scold me—he’d proved more than once that he didn’t really give a shit about the authority thing teachers were supposed to carry—but it still surprised me.
I extended the pack out to him so he could take one.
He picked one out with a sigh and held it under his nose. “ Oof ,” he said and I breathed a laugh.
“When did you quit?” I asked, lighting mine and then handing him the lighter.
He chuckled, and took it, then lit his. “This is my last one.”
I laughed again just as I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I wanted to let Paige know we were about to leave, since I had full intentions of going over and kissing her until we fell asleep after we got home, but my heart dropped when I saw I already had a message from her.
Pip
Gram fell. When you get back to Venice, can you meet me at the hospital?