We talk a few minutes more, and then he clears his throat and says, “Um, I need to tell you about something.”
His tone tells me this isn’t a good something. For a couple of seconds, I can’t breathe. My heart is thudding in my chest. “Okay.”
He takes a deep breath. “You know I’m graduating on Wednesday.”
I nod. “Yes.” I sense he’s not going for congratulations.
“Brooke is coming to the ceremony.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I would have told you before, but I honestly forgot about her plans to come whenever we were talking, and I didn’t want to just text it to you.”
Brooke is attending Graham’s graduation. I frown. “When did you invite her?”
“I didn’t, really, she just offered, last week. We met right before I started at Columbia, and I guess she just wants to show her support—”
“I get it.” I stop him before he offers more details about their years-long, dedicated friendship. “You’re really close and you have been for years before you met me, so there’s nothing for me to be concerned about.” Jealous about. Jealous is what I want to say. But I am concerned. I am jealous. I am Emma the green-eyed monster.
“Emma, I don’t want to upset you…”
Too late.
“There’s nothing going on between Brooke and me—any more than there’s something going on between you and Reid.”
I gasp. “That’s not the same at all.”
“You’re right, it’s not. You’ve actually been intimate… with him.” He realizes mid-sentence what he’s stepped into, but it’s too late to extricate himself from it.
“What exactly do you mean?”
He’s not looking at my face on his screen. His eyes are turned away. So I wait. Finally, they blink back at me, dark and unreadable. “I guess I don’t know what I mean. And I know it’s none of my business, and I have no right to ask.”
“Ask what? Ask if I’ve slept with him?”
A muscle clenches at his temple. “I’m not asking you, Emma. It’s none of my business.”
“So you don’t care?”
Sighing, he sits back against his pillows. I hate it when he does that, because I can’t see his face clearly at all. “Of course I care.” His voice is so soft, and I don’t know if it’s because he’s speaking softly or if it’s just because he’s moved away from the laptop microphone.
“Okay. So it’s not your business. But I didn’t.” I don’t tell him how very close we came. He doesn’t need to know that. His eyes close and he breathes another sigh. “Your turn,” I say.
A crease appears between his brows. “My turn for what?”
I tilt my head. “You. And Brooke.”
“No.” There’s no hesitation. “I’ve never slept with Brooke. I thought I told you, the morning we first talked about all of this—”
“You told me you didn’t love her. You never said you hadn’t slept with her.”
We fall silent after this exchange, and the huge space between us feels electrically charged. My throat closes up and even though I’m relieved, I feel like crying.
“Emma, what’s wrong, baby?” He’s never called me that before. Close to the webcam now, his eyes are worried. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to feel…”
“Insecure?” A tear winds down my cheek and I thumb it away.
He shakes his head. “You aren’t insecure. This is new for both of us—this relationship. And we’re trying to build it from a distance, after months of separation…” He runs a hand through his hair again and makes a frustrated sound. “It’s difficult. But not impossible. I’m sorry about Brooke, and for asking you about Reid—”
“I’m not. I want you to know.” My voice lowers. “You need to know, right? That it will be the first time for me…”
“I suppose so, yeah. I hadn’t… really thought of it that way. I’ve never, um…” He chews his lip, eyes shifting down and then back up to watch my face on his screen. “I’ve never been with a virgin.”
My mind is racing, but coming to no conclusions at all. “Oh.”
His hand rubs over his face. “God,” he mumbles. “I’m going to make you want nothing to do with me.”
“Graham,” I say, and he moves his hand down to his mouth, uncovering his eyes, watching me. “Trust me. That’s not possible.”
*** *** ***
REID
Emma and I are meeting in the lobby at 5:00 a.m. for the first local station interview. We have a second one Tuesday, followed by a live radio interview in the afternoon. Thursday, we’re taping Ellen.
When I tell Brooke what I said to Emma—that I wanted another shot if Graham f**ked up—she freaks. “Oh my God, Reid. Shit. That was a huge risk… but maybe she’ll automatically turn to you when she realizes he’s with me.”
“That was my thought.” I’m clicking through muted television channels, reclining against a mound of pillows on the hotel bed. Emma is just down the hall. I texted her earlier, told her I was here, and suggested that we meet in the lobby tomorrow morning. I’ve made plans for us tomorrow night, so I’m giving her unpressured space tonight.
“But she didn’t answer you?”
“I told her I didn’t want one. That I just wanted her to know where I stood.” Leaving the television tuned to music videos, I set the volume on low, like white noise. Emma plays videos in the background in her hotel room like some sort of soundtrack to her life, and I’ve wondered but forgotten to ask her if she does this at home, too. “So what makes you think you love him?”