Page 47 of Nothing Like the Movies

“An old lady’s purple housecoat,” he replied. “It’s vintage Kmart that I thrifted and am in love with, so please refrain from disparaging my garment.”

“Why are you in love with it?” Campbell asked. “And I don’t mean that disparagingly—I’m just curious.”

“I appreciate the clarification, and I love it because it feels like I’m just walking around in my underpants, yet I’m covered enough that I can drink coffee on the balcony.”

“Can I try it?” Leo asked, looking intrigued by that description.

“It’ll be huge on you,” Campbell answered. “You’re like a foot shorter than him.”

“Yeah, hands off my housecoat.” Clark opened the refrigerator, grabbed a Red Bull, and shut the door. “Now, my three questions.”

“Leo’s not going to evict me,” I said, rolling my eyes, absolutely unwilling to discuss Wes with them.

“Just answer the damn questions.” Campbell crossed her arms and said, “Number one.”

“I’m first,” Clark interrupted, nudging her over with his hip. “Number one. Why did you break up?”

“Yeah, why?” Campbell repeated, nudging back.

I don’t want to focus on this when I have an entire day in front of me, dammit.I shrugged and said, “I thought we were good, and then one day he just said he didn’t want to do the long-distance thing anymore.”

“So he broke up with you?” Leo asked, squeezing in front of them both. His blue eyes were huge as he said it, like it was impossible to believe.

“Yes.” I swallowed and wasn’t going to think about it as anything more than a general “we broke up” story.

“What an idiot,” Campbell said at the same second Clark said, “What a dick.”

But then Leo ruined my ability to disconnect with his next question.

“Oh my God,” he said, looking disgusted. “Since you were long distance, please tell me he didn’t do it over the phone like a total ass-weasel.”

“He did,” I said, inhaling through my nose, trying to remain in the present, but the comment sent me right back to the past.

Because yes—he definitely did it over the phone.

October

Two Years Ago

Wes: Are you home right now?

I was sitting at the desk in my dorm room when he texted,readingThe Awakeningfor American Lit. I got that instant rush of happy dopamine when I saw his name on my phone—WESSY MCBENNETTFACE—just like I did every single day since he’d moved home, and I set down the book and stood.

Talking to Wes was best when I was comfy.

I ran over to my bed, plopped onto my stomach, and texted:I am home and am eagerly awaiting the sight of your face! 3-2-1…

In the weeks since he left, we’d fallen into a routine. I went to class all day and he went to work, and as soon as he got home, we basically FaceTimed with each other all night until one of us—or both—fell asleep on the call.

I missed him so much, and nothing was the same with him gone, but the fact that I could still see him all the time, and talk to him, made it work.

But instead of hearing the familiar “incoming FaceTime” sound, my phone actually started ringing.He was calling me?I answered on speaker with, “Did you forget how to FaceTime?”

“No.” I heard him clear his throat, and then he said, “I just thought it might be better to call you today.”

“But whyyyy?” I teased, rolling onto my back and looking up at the ceiling. “I miss out on seeing your dumb face if we talk on the phone the way our ancestors used to. What are we, boomers now?”

“We need to talk, Liz, and—”

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