Page 133 of Nothing Like the Movies

“Good night, Mrs. Solomon,” I said, waving to his mother on the FaceTime screen.

“Good night and good luck, Wesley.”

As soon as I closed the door to his room and he started talking again, I put on my shoes. Of course, it was hard to tie them while flipping off AJ and Mick for taking photos like they were my parents and I was going to prom.

I was laughing my ass off as they yelled to me from the stairs, and it wasn’t until I was in the car and driving toward Liz’s place that I got insanely nervous. Not to be with her, because that was the easiest thing in the world to be.

No, I was nervous about how hopeful I was.

It was so close—finally within reach—that I was terrified it was going to disappear.

Which explained why I could barely speak when Liz opened the door and said, “Hi.”

I couldn’t think of a response, or any words at all, so I parroted Liz while my heart rate skyrocketed. “Hi.”

She was standing there in her apartment doorway, looking like a goddess, and I was reduced to a caveman who just stared with his mouth hanging wide open. But she was wearing this frothy, gauzy black dress that exposed her bare shoulders and a lot of leg, leg that was supported by black high heels that had crisscross ties around her ankles.

Hella distracting, those.

“I feel like it’s cliché to say this as I arrive for a date,” I said, lost in the way her long curls framed her face, “but you are so stunning, it hurts, Buxbaum.”

The arch of her eyebrows, the high flush on her cheeks, the clear gloss on her mouth; would I ever get tired of looking at her? Her face was the only thing my eyes ever wanted to see, I swear to God.

And she smelled incredible.

“Thanks,” she said, her lips turning up into a tiny smile. “You look good in a suit, Bennett.”

“Quit hitting on me—I just got here,” I said, trying to calm my nerves.

But tonight felt important for us, like a gateway to the possibility of something. I had no margin for error, no wiggle room, so I was determined to make it count.

“Sorry I’m so aggressive,” she teased. “My bad.”

“You’ve got to ease into it,” I said, loving her tiny smirk as she tilted her head and pretended to be annoyed by me. “Stick with me and I’ll teach you how to have game.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Neither of us spoke as we took the elevator downstairs, but I was impressed by my ability to appear relaxed in spite of the fact that my chest was tight and my heart rate was elevated to what was surely an unhealthy triple-digit readout.

So far, so good.

“Mickey let me borrow his car, and I vacuumed it out, but she’s pretty rough,” I said as we walked outside.

“Alice and I are old friends, so it’s fine,” she said, and I was still amazed that she was already friends with the teammates who were my new friends. “At least she’s running.”

“True,” I agreed, and I was glad she seemed nervous. Hopefully it meant that she saw this night as important too. The good thing was that we both seemed nervous, yet it wasn’t an awkwardness that was heavy on tension.

It was, like, typical first-date jitters.

But then I started the car and things got weird.

She was buckling her seat belt as I pulled away from the curb, and she was humming a little.

Three seconds later she asked, “Is this ‘City of Stars’?”

I kept my eyes on the road, not wanting to seem too self-congratulatory as I said, “Itis.”

“Wow,” she said, sounding confused as the song fromLa LaLandswirled around us in Mick’s piece-of-crap car. Confused instead of charmed. “I haven’t heard that in ages.”

---