Page 102 of The Fate Of Us

We stay like that for a moment or two, just soaking up being near each other again, therays of sun that had the power to break through the clouds beating down on us.

I open my eyes as I let her go, catching a few of her peers staring at us like we’re crazy,or they recognise me… or both. She stands in front of me, blue jeans and a graphic baby tee covering her, her golden hair in a ponytail at the back of her head.

She shakes her head at me, the same dopey smile I’m probably wearing resting on herface. “What are you doing here?” she asks.

I shrug, my fingers slipping through hers. “Thought I’d come and surprise you. We’re inL.A. for the month, for the rest of the shoot—”

“I know!!” She stomps her foot with a big cheesy grin. “I’ve had it marked on mycalendar since the moment you told me! I just meant… why are you at my school?”

“Because I couldn’t wait to see you!” Her head tilts, her fiery eyes going all doughy. “And Ithought we could do something, just us, before we have to do the inevitable…”

She nods, and neither of us has to clarify what I mean. I wish I could spend the month inL.A. without seeing them, my parents, but that would be like going to London and trying to avoid seeing a Union Jack; stupidly hopeless.

And now I’m angry at myself for thinking of London whilst staring down at my sisterwho will be moving there soon, because of them, and she’ll be even further away from me than before—

“Well,” I stop my thoughts from going any further, hiking up the corners of my mouththat had dropped. “Let’s get going because… well… you know.”

We both look at each other and say, “L.A. traffic.” at the same time, before collapsinginto laughter, another quick hug playing out before we hop into her car and drive off into the smog.

“When the hell did this open?” I ask my sister, my eyes glazing over as I take in the signto The Rolling Pin that’s opened up on Melrose Avenue.

“Oh, it’s been here for a few months now. Everyone from school comes here.”

A laugh staggers through my nose, my arms folded. “Is that because they know JacobEmerson’s moms own it?”

She shrugs. “Probably, but I come here because the iced honey lattes and apple pie areliterally the nicest things in the world.”

I smile down at her, “You know that apple pie is what brought Jacob and Flo together?”

“I do,” she smiles up at me, heading for the door and pulling it open. “But feel free to tellme the whole thing again, and again… or how about whenIfinally meet them, they can tell me themselves?” I follow in step behind her as she walks in. “It’s weird how I haven’t met them yet, isn’t it? You talk about them every time you call and they probably have no idea I exist. How weird.”

Her head angles over her shoulder, and I catch a glimpse of her smile. “I feel like afangirl. I know almost everything about them and we’ve never crossed paths. But wecouldcross paths if you let me come to New York for a while, but acting gets in the way and—”

“And I’d have you over in a heartbeat if it didn’t.” We both slide into a booth towards theback of the bakery. “And even if acting wasn’t in the way you’d be busy with school—”

“And I wish I could be busy with school. I know.”

“Exactly.”

Her head bobs to the window for a second. “But still, I want to meet them someday.”

“You will, I promise.” I put my bag to one side and slide out of the booth. “Apple pie andhoney iced latte?” I ask her, to which she nods like a lunatic, before whipping her phone out as I head to join the queue.

After taking a selfie with the girls behind the counter, I head back to Goldie with both ofour slices of pie and lattes in my hands. She digs straight in, apples and sugar coating her mouth in a way that makes me miss her even though she’s sitting right in front of me.

“So,” she mumbles, mid-bite. “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” I mumble back. “I should be asking howyouare though.” Her smile drops,already knowing what I’m about to ask. “Have you told them that you don’t—”

“Yes. I’ve told them.”

I let the sounds of the bakery take over for a moment, before I ask her, “What even is theshoot anyway?”

“Some James Bond knock-off type. But like… for teens?” She says with a mouthful of pie.

“Oh,” I hum, the straw to my coffee tucked between my lips. “Like Agent Cody Banks?”

Her eyebrows furrow, like she’s never heard of— “Who’s that?”

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