Page 116 of Nothing Like the Movies

—Bridesmaids

Liz

The hard press.

Why couldn’t I stop thinking about what he’d said? About thewayhe’d said it?

You should probably brace yourself.

It’d been hours since he said it, and I was still blushing and butterflying like the moment had just passed.

“So. Liz,” Wade said, grinning. “Anything interesting happen on your balcony last night?”

I lowered the camera. “You know about that?”

A bunch of the guys were hooping at the courts behind Hitch, so Clark and I were filming, although Clark waswaaayon the other end. Mickey was dribbling the basketball, giving me a stupid smile, while Eli and Wade laughed knowingly from the lane, like they had the keys to the vault or something. I still didn’t know thespecifics of what exactly Wes had been doing out there, and I was dying to find out.

“Shut up, man,” Mickey said. But he was still beaming when he said, “Just because he’s not here doesn’t mean we should—”

“It’s not a secret, though,” Wade interrupted, reaching in and stealing the ball. “He saw us taking pictures and only said to shut up untilafterhe was done. He never asked us to be silent forever.”

“True,” Eli said.

“Will you please fill me in?” I snapped. “All I know is that he climbed onto the balcony and then fell off the building.”

“Into a rosebush,” Wade volunteered, looking like he was thoroughly enjoying the spilling of this tea as he drove the lane. “Like an idiot.”

“Stop,” Mickey said, putting up a hand but failing to get the block as Wade’s shot went in. “He wasn’ttryingto be an idiot, Liz. He wants to ask you out, and he thought that climbing on your balcony and creating a whole romantic scene would help his chances.”

“What kind of romantic scene?” I asked, still trying to process the fact that not only had Wes climbed up the side of my building—idiot could’ve been killed—but he’d told his friends he was going to do it. “Like, there was only water and broken glass out there when I saw it.”

“Guys, let me,” Eli said, grinning as he walked off the court, toward me, pulling out his phone. “These are photos of Wesley preparing to woo you.”

Why was my heart racing? I leaned closer as he held out the phone, hoping I seemed chill as I looked at the display.

“This is him coming back from the flower shop,” he said, using his finger to flip through multiple pictures of Wes carrying flowers—God, they were daisies—into his suite. He scrolled through pictures—it was alotof daisies—and I swallowed hard.

What the hell, Bennett?

“Now these are my favorite,” he said, “where he is working hard on his little cupidy art project.”

I leaned even closer, my throat a little tight as I stared at a photo of Wes sitting on the floor of their suite, wearing headphones and bagging up flower petals. The lyric from that Abe Parker song—I miss your stupid face—whispered into me as Eli slid his finger across the screen, showing another dorm picture of Wes, this time writing on poster board with a Sharpie.

The only word he’d written at that point wasTO.

What had he written?

What the hell had he written?

And what had he planned to do with the poster?

He’d been right—Little Liz would’ve loved this.

Thank God she was long gone.

Little Liz can’t come to the phone right now. Why? Oh, ’cause she’s dead.

“Okay, don’t be an asshole, Strauss,” Mick said. Then he walked over and said to me, “The finished product reallywasamazing, even though your neighbor destroyed it.”

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