So much for that kiss.
*** *** ***
Emma
I thought of Graham a dozen times since we arrived in New York, chiding myself when my focus lingered on some tall, dark-haired guy standing hands-in-pockets at a deli counter, or crossing quickly at an intersection, or smoking in a courtyard.
Graham quit smoking months ago, of course.
More to the point, though—what was the likelihood I’d just happen upon Graham in a city this enormous? I felt silly for even considering it a possibility. And then—there he was, sitting in a coffee shop on MacDougal. With his daughter.
“So, Cara is four?” I ask, taking my turn.
“She’ll actually be four in a couple of months,” he says, leaning close, his breath warm in my ear. “Right after my birthday.”
“Landon is so immature,” one of the girls across the aisle declares to the others. They all nod and level disdainful looks on the boy responsible for the majority of rude noises.
“What’d I do?” he says, palms up. “What?”
One of the other boys offers, “Bitches, man,” and a fist bump in consolation, and they all howl with laughter while the girls huff and refuse to look openly at them again.
Graham and I stare at each other, our eyes tearing and lips compressed in an effort to remain outwardly indifferent. “I would be willing to swear I was never a preteen boy,” he says, rolling his eyes.
“That sounds like denial.”
“Yeah, well, that’s my story.” His eyes dance. “Next question: Are you seeing anyone now?”
Emily set me up with several guys during the past few months—dinner, movies, ballet, bowling. Each one was perfectly nice, but I didn’t feel a connection with any of them. Then, during the community theatre production of It’s a Wonderful Life over the holidays, I met Marcus. He’d already been accepted early-decision to Pace, and was elated at the possibility of us both starting college in New York in the fall. Since December, we’ve been out multiple times. I saw him last weekend. We’re supposed to hang out tonight when I get home. And… I agreed to go to his small private school’s prom next weekend.
“Hmm. Not the quick refusal I was hoping for,” Graham says, his thumb moving hypnotically over the back of my hand. “Should I plan to follow you home and challenge some guy to a duel?” In his eyes, I see the teasing and the sincerity behind his words. “I’ve never been a horribly possessive guy, Emma, and I know this is all sudden and unforeseen for both of us. But watching you with Reid was almost more than I could take. I don’t think my heart can tolerate sharing you again. You’re free to make your own decision, of course. But I have to be allowed to make mine, too.”
I hate the thought of hurting Marcus. He’s been patient, never grilling me about my well-known failed liaison with Reid Alexander. When I came back home after the School Pride photo shoot last month, Marcus maintained his cheerful disposition while I pulled myself through a delayed depression over the whole Reid debacle and came to grips with the fact that I still cared for Graham and felt his absence, though whatever was between us in Austin was long gone.
Except now, suddenly, it’s not gone. And Graham is sitting here next to me, waiting for me to tell him I want him.
“I have been seeing someone, but it’s not… this.” I swallow, hard, hoping he’ll give me the time to be compassionate. “I’ll end it when I get back home.” When he exhales, I realize he was holding his breath. “But… I did promise to go to his prom next weekend.”
His lips quirk and he watches me closely. “Should I be worried?”
I shake my head slightly. “No.”
His forearm flexes as he brings our interlaced hands up, rotating his arm and kissing the back of my hand. “Then I guess there’s no reason to begrudge some poor guy his prom date.”
The knot of girls across the car sighs audibly, and I think one of them just took our picture with her phone. It’s possible that they know who we are. School Pride doesn’t come out until next month, though the media blitz has begun. Or maybe they’re just starry-eyed girls, and the two of us tangled up in each other on the subway is classic NYC romantic—which makes me think of Emily. I’m going to have a lot to tell her when I get home.
“Are you, you know, seeing anyone?”
He shakes his head, his dark eyes intense despite the half-smile on his lips. “I passed the point of being willing to settle a long time ago. If I’m not fiercely inclined, I don’t bother.”
I press my lips together, but they kick up on one side. It isn’t really fair, that I’m happy to have no competition for his attention while he trusts me to go home, go to prom with some faceless boy and then kick him to the curb.
The preteens reach their stop, and the noise escalates to something resembling the running of the bulls as the chaperones attempt to make sure every single one of them makes it off the subway before it pulls away. It’s so quiet once they exit that I can hear my own breathing.
Graham leans closer. “How is it that I’ve survived seeing you only once in the past five months, and now the thought of being separated from you for four months seems insane?”
I lean my cheek onto his shoulder, caught up in his penetrating gaze. “The premiere is next month. My agent says there’ll be TV and radio talk show appearances before then, probably starting next week.”
He grimaces. “Emma, I’m not the star of School Pride—you and Reid are. I’ll be at the premiere, of course, but most of those other appearances will just be the two of you.”