Page 32 of Nothing Like the Movies

Later.

“No, I mean, they’re fine,” I said, wanting to laugh at the detached way I’d said the word “fine,” as if I was talking about the lighting in the study room or something I had absolutely no opinion on. “But it seems weird they’d be making TikToks about a team study hall. Like, who wants that shit on their feed?”

“Oh, it’swaybigger than that,” he whispered, a smug grin landing on his face. “They’re doing a whole big content thing about us. Liz and Clark are baseball dedicated now.”

“What?”

“The athletic department,” he said quietly, but I could tell he was excited, “wants to do a preseason series about the baseball team. So those two are going to follow us around, like, all the time until fall ball ends.”

“Talk about a distraction,” I said, taking out my laptop and calmly speaking as if it was no big deal, even though my brain was running in a hundred different directions, jumping up and down and shouting.

Because Liz being around all the time was huge, like a golden opportunity to make some headway with her.

But not with her boyfriend beside her, for God’s sake.

I mean, wasn’t it enough that I’d given her up and walked away? Now I was supposed to spend time with her every day and watch her work closely with Clark?

“Not gonna lie, I won’t mind having Liz around all the time.”

Yeah, that doesn’t help either.I swallowed and didn’t look up as I opened my computer and gave Mick a noncommittal “Yeah?”

There was a smile in his voice when he said, “I don’t know what she was like as a little kid when you knew her, but she’s cool as hell now.”

What was she like? For some reason, my mind immediately ran to that night on the beach two summers ago, the night that was now permanently hardwired in my brain the same way breathing and talking were.

I could still feel that night in my bones, I swear to God.

It was two days after we arrived in LA, and we’d been so geeked-out about living in California that we grabbed a blanket, found a beach where we could make a fire, and spent hours there that night, doing nothing but being together on the sand.

I could still see the glow of the fire reflected in her eyes, and I could almost hear the waves and the soft music coming from her Bluetooth speaker.

I remember thinking I had you—

“She was cool,” I said.And she definitely wasn’t always a little kid when I knew her.

“Isn’t that right, Truck Nuts?” Mickey yelled around a laugh.

“What’s that?” Wade yelled back from the other side of the room.

“I was telling Bennett here that Liz is my hero.”

Wonderful.I was positive Liz was looking our way—and herClarksurely was too—but I was keeping my head down and pretending I had no idea what was going on outside my laptop.

Wade said, “Just because our girl gave me a garbage nickname doesn’t mean she’s a hero.”

“Says you,” I heard Liz mumble as she kept filming.

“Yeah, says you,” Mickey said, grinning. He leaned closer to me and said quietly, “He tried hitting on her last year, and she said he was the human embodiment of plastic truck nuts. Obnoxious and try-hard is what she called him.”

“He didn’t get mad?” I asked, my voice almost a whisper, trying to imagine Liz saying something so ballsy. It seemed way too bold for her.

“How could he when it washersaying it?”

“What do you mean? Because she’s usually so sweet?” I asked, my lips barely moving because I didn’t want her to think I was talking about her.

“No,” he said, squinting like that was ridiculous. “It was pretty on-brand for her, honestly, which was why he couldn’t be mad. She’s like one of the guys—it’d be likeyousaying it to him.”

Like one of the guys? I could tell he didn’t mean it in a sexist “not like other girls” way, but like he legitimately considered her just some dude he knew.

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