Page 57 of Nothing Like the Movies

She might be further away, and she might not love me anymore, but she was still fucking there.

And that made me feel closer towholethan I’d felt in years.

After that inning, the rest of the game was like a party.

I stood in the dugout, leaning on the rail with guys on both sides of me, and for the first time since committing (the second time around), it felt like I belonged. Like I was supposed to be there. I realized at the bottom of the ninth, as we beat on the fence when the closer came in, that I finally didn’t feel like the guy who found a way in but still wasn’t sure if it was going to stick or not.

No, it wasmyteam, and I wasn’t going anywhere.

After the game, I grabbed a quick dinner with Sarah before she went to meet up with friends she had in LA. It was laid-back, the perfect ending to the day, and it wouldn’t be my sister if she didn’tbutt her nose in and say, “I saw Liz by the dugout, by the way.”

“Yeah?” I said, rolling my eyes as I finished the last of my steamed rice. I loved the Boiling Crab—we’d come here with my parents on my first college visit—and I basically wanted to lick my plate clean every time. “Congratulations on having eyes.”

“Thanks,” she said, grinning as she lifted her last crab leg. “But what are you waiting for with her, Wes? Why don’t you—”

“Shhhhh,” I interrupted, flicking her crab leg so it fell onto her plate. “Save the bossiness for tomorrow. Don’t ruin my moment.”

“Dammit, Wes,” she said around a laugh as she retrieved the leg.

The truth was that I doubted anything could hack the raging buzz I had from the one-two punch of good baseball and Liz Buxbaum. I was on top of the world, and even though I knew she’d be excited about it, I couldn’t bring myself to tell Sarah about the note.

Because what if she found a way to explain it away?

That note was on a piece of paper that came from Liz’s notebook (shelovednotebooks and usually had no less than six going at once), was folded by Liz’s fingers (the same ones that had danced magic over piano keys while I begged for more), and was handed off by Liz’s grip (that I could still feel on my shoulders) to be sent to me.

Tome.

I didn’t want it to make sense, to be honest, because it felt like a beginning.

“Fine. But I think you’re a moron for not saying anything when she’s right there,” she said. She took a bite before adding, “You area fool for pressing your nose against the glass when there’s still a chance you can have that donut.”

“You didnotjust call her a donut.”

“Just because there’s another customer inside the bakery with your donut in his cart doesn’t mean you can’t still grab it. Pastries are fair game until they hit the conveyor belt.”

“I…” I stopped and dropped my fork, shaking my head. It was hard not to laugh all the time when dealing with Sarah because she was so…Sarah. “I’m not sure if I should be concerned about your intensity for baked goods, horrified you’re wielding such terrible analogies, or focused on straightening you out.”

“All of the above, probably,” she said, shrugging. “Also, I have regrets because I think ‘donut’ could be a euphemism for something nasty, but I’m not sure.”

“You’re an idiot,” I laughed, reaching for one of her fries.

After she dropped me off, I decided not to go out with the guys. I wanted to savor the waning hours of the memorable day, so instead of hitting a party, I hit the steps outside my dorm. I leaned back on my elbows and looked up at the dark sky, soaking in the warmth of the Westwood night as the quiet sounds of Saturday-night-on-the-hill played around me.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I got to her.

Libby.

I’d deleted all previous messages after the breakup, mostly because I knew I’d never stop rereading them like a favorite book. I could see myself as an eighty-five-year-old man, no longercommunicating in any language other than recycled Buxbaum if I didn’t make it disappear.

I looked at her name and paused, wondering if I should do it.

“What the hell,” I muttered to myself, then thumbed out a message.

Is this still your number, Buxbaum?

I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t immediate conversation bubbles.

“Holy shit.” I sat up straight, staring at the bright phone in the darkness, but the bubbles disappeared almost immediately.

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