Page 58 of Nothing Like the Movies

Is it her? It has to be her, right?

People didn’t actually get new phone numbers, did they?

I sat there with my phone in my hand for a long time, waiting, but she never responded.

Not that I’d expected her to, but after the note, it suddenly felt like anything was possible.

Which explained why, on Monday, the smell of her perfume had me searching for her in the hallway as I walked out of chem. Thousands of people in the world probably wore that scent, but the second it found my nose, my eyes were on the hunt for red hair.

And that old song found my head.

You got anesthesia in your Chanel No. 5…

I squeezed around the girl in front of me, who was slow-exiting CS50 while looking down at her phone, and as soon as I cleared her—

Holyshit.

There she was.

Liz.

I almost didn’t believe it.

She was actually there.

She was standing by the wall on the other side of the doors, watching on tiptoes as the people poured out of the lecture hall.

Like she was looking for someone.

I had to force myself not to grin as I went straight for her. “Can I help you find someone, Buxbaum?”

She hadn’t seen me coming, so she looked at me in surprise. “Oh. Um, hey, Wes.”

“I can’t believe you’re stalking me already,” I said, reaching out a hand to mess with her hair. “And wejustreconnected.”

“Haha,” she said, but she didn’t roll her eyes. And she didn’t smack my hand. No, Liz tucked her hair behind her ears and said, “I actually was waiting for you.”

Oh, what’s this?

Something shot through my body—happiness, maybe—as I committed to memory the way Liz Buxbaum looked on the day she’d shown up at my building to wait for me.

Long curls, pink lips, white cardigan, white jeans.

“Do you have five minutes?” she asked, leaning in a little like she didn’t want anyone to hear her. “I just need to run something by you really quickly.”

Did I have five minutes? For Liz? My entire life, the answer to that had been something along the lines ofhell fucking yes. Electricity still shot through every cell in my body when shespoke to me, and I was positive that was never going to change.

For better or for worse.

“It’s work-related,” she added breathlessly, as if to make sure I didn’t think it was personal.

It was idiotic that something similar to disappointment settled in my belly.What did you expect, that she was going to tell you she missed you?

I mean, of course it was work-related.

“I have to get to my next class,” I said, injecting boredom into my tone so she didn’t see how pathetic I was, how off I’d been about what her appearance here could mean. “Is it something your big man can help you with?”

“No,” she said, her eyes flashing with irritation before she plastered on another made-up smile and said in a weirdly peppy voice, “But it’s five minutes, Wes. Surely you can spare five tiny minutes.”

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