Page 3 of I Love a Good Challenge

Chapter Two

Lily

After you.” The credits roll as Graham stands and motions for me to leave the row first.

But my knees are about to give out. I feel like I’ve just run a marathon I didn’t train for. Sure, I’ve watched this movie hundreds of times and can quote it in my sleep, but no one prepared me for watching it next to Graham. I wasn’t ready for the sight of his forearms as he reached for the drink cup between us. They peeked at me from under his sleeves after he rolled them up during Elizabeth and Darcy’s first dance. Those are forearms worth remembering.

Watching the movie next to him brought up memories of sitting on the couch with my mom. I would wait for her to focus on me long enough to tell her how much I always hoped I’d have my own romance story to tell. The dream that, one day, I’d find my own version of Darcy.

And, oh, how I’ve tried to make room for love. But it’s been a bust every time. It started with the punks in high school who liked to joke that I was too weird to be anyone’s girl, and the story continued down to the last guy who told me that he was only dating me to see how far I would let him get. I’m a mystery. I’m a conundrum. I’m a fighter. And no man yet has seemed to know what to do with me.

We walk out of the auditorium side by side, and my mind races with questions on how this could turn out any differently. I throw away my popcorn bucket before we reach the fresh air outside. For a moment, my eyes rudely struggle to adjust to the natural light. I stare up at Graham, who waits patiently.

“Okay, well, I’m just gonna wait for my ride.” I motion toward an ambiguous destination to try to throw him off my scent. At this point in the movie of my life, when I’m out on a date with the trolls that seem to populate the apps, I’m usually just hoping to make it across the bridge before they try to touch me. This time, I’m wondering what divine event happened in my life that I get to be near him without trying. And I feel a pull to stay. It’s terrifying and exhilarating.

He nods, studying my face. He seems oblivious to the fact that we’re standing outside the theater and about to be pelted with leftover gummy candy from the group of kids and their tired moms who no doubt just got out of some animated film. They’re eyeing us like they are the Lost Boys, and Graham is Peter.

“Why did you walk over to sit with me in the middle of the movie theater?” I blurt the words into the air while motioning for us to start walking in a direction that is very much not where any sane driver would pick someone up. My mission is to find chocolate, but I guess I can handle company along the way if he follows.

He falls into step beside me. When I steal an expectant glance at him, he scrunches his nose a little before making a twirling motion with his finger near the top of his head.

“It was your ponytail. Your hair.”

“My hair?” I grab the end of my ponytail to try to hide as much of it as possible, suddenly unsure of what to do with this information. “What about it? It’s up. That’s common.”

“The light from the screen on it. Even when it was dim inside, it was . . .” He looks uncomfortable. “Glowing.”

I let out a laugh and pause my stride. “Glowing? Did you actually just say that to me?”

“Would you rather I said something like ‘it was incandescent’?”

Honestly, by the drop in my stomach at hearing him say the words, I may have preferred that. “I’m not from here,” I blurt out.

His eyebrows lift and then furrow. “That’s a shame. I’m not from here, either, if that helps. I mean, I do live here, but I also own a home in Boston.”

My sharp inhale is audible. There’s no arrogance in his statement, just fact. The knowledge that he owns a place a train ride away from my apartment in Birch Borough is too enticing to dismiss.

“I’m from New England too.”

His eyes warm. “I knew I liked you.”

At this, I grin. “You’re wicked smaht for doing so.” I don’t have a Boston accent at all. When I first moved to the land known for acts of revolt against England as a five-year-old, I tried to adopt one and failed. But I force it this time to replace “smart” with something that reminds us both of a place that isn’t this Hollywood life.

I continue without pause. “I haven’t been to many places in the world yet, but I’d say that if you’re ever heartbroken, Birch Borough is the place to go.”

I know I’m right. And even if I never see Graham again, it feels like a universal truth he needs to know. I’m convinced my town is the antidote to everything wrong with the world. It’s the only place I’ve ever felt the closest to belonging, even if it hasn’t been in all the ways I have hoped.

“Good to know.” His eyes sparkle. “I realize we just met . . .”

Again, he’s searching for a name, but I resume walking. Giving him my name feels so personal. It feels like a commitment. Like, somehow, if he has it, he’ll never let it go. And if there’s one thing I’m sure about, as much as I’ve dreamed of it, I’m terrified to let a man love me. Truth be told, I’m worried the parts that are uniquely me will die and disappear if I allow a man fully into my life. Will I adapt to make myself more palatable? Or will the thought that not all of me is lovable prove to be true? To get to the bottom of my fear, I’d have to sit with it, and I’m not sure I’d win that battle.

Graham shifts his weight, keeping stride with me, his posture delightfully proper with a hint of nervousness in his tone.

“But . . .” he continues with a smile I imagine is rare greeting me, “when I’m back East, maybe we could go to a Red Sox game sometime?”

I’ve loved Red Sox games since I was a little girl, but I haven’t been to one in years. The memory takes me back to simpler times when my family was in one place. I hadn’t yet felt the strain of being overlooked by them, and my way of viewing the world felt like a superpower. “Why would you say that?”

He shifts his shoulder slightly in a way that tells me that he’s not only got good plans but that he’ll also follow through with them. “Seems like a place for fun and dreams.”

---