Page 37 of First Impressions of You

At this time of day, the place is almost empty, save for a guest here and there stopping by for a much-needed energy recharge on their way out of the park after a day of fun.

We stand in line behind a couple of teenagers, Graham running a restless hand through his hair that’s already messy in that I-spent-the-whole-day-raking-my-hands-through-it kind of way. He’s wearing a plaid short-sleeve shirt, buttoned all the way up to the collar, and his khaki pants are made fresher by the jogger cut, wrapping tightly around his ankles. On his feet, white sneakers finish the outfit. He could’ve easily walked straight out of a California lifestyle magazine.

As always, I get a banana and dulce de leche waffle and ask them to sprinkle cinnamon on top of it all. I order a vanilla Frappuccino to go with it. Graham chooses a peanut butter low carb brownie and coffee black that makes me stifle a judgmental sneer.

We take seats at an outside table, letting the bustle of tourists serve as backdrop for our conversation. I can sense he’s nervous, but I doubt it’s because we’re out together.

“So,” he starts, scratching his nonexistent beard, “there’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” I hope this isn’t about us dating because that’s not a conversation I’m looking forward to.

“Yes. Yeah, I—” He fiddles with his coffee cup a couple of times. “Look, I want you to know this isn’t because I’m… I mean, we’re not—”

“Graham,” I say, trying to sound welcoming. “Take a breath.” I inhale, encouraging him to do the same. “It’s okay. What do you wanna tell me?”

“Yeah, so, I know this…” This time, his voice sounds firmer as he motions between us. “This isn’t happening. Like, it’s okay. I got that after like the third invitation you turned down.”

Shoot. “Sorry.”

“No, no. It’s okay. For real. So, like.” He says one like every three words. Has he always sounded this immature? “I don’t want you to think that like I’m telling you this because I’m jealous or something like that, you know?”

“Okay…”

“It’s about Davis. Winter Davis.”

I freeze, the fork midway to my mouth.

“He’s not who you think he is. I know…” He purses his lips, seeming uncomfortable talking about this. “I know you’re working together now, but like I needed to tell you what I know. Maybe… I don’t know, maybe you can keep a certain distance. I’m just telling you because like I worry about you, you know?”

He has my full attention. My beloved waffle forgotten on the plate. I wasn’t even aware Winter and Graham knew each other, let alone that they had history. Bad history, it seems.

“We were friends in college,” he says. I didn’t know Winter had gone to college. He must see the surprise on my face because he explains, “Yeah. It was after School Hallway. He’d already been out of the public eye for a while before he started. Anyway, we were roommates. Super close. Like, we wouldn’t do anything without the other. We chose our gen-eds together and everything. He was like my best friend.”

I sit straighter. Whatever he’s about to tell me, it won’t be good.

“When his father passed away, I went home with him. It was the beginning of our sophomore year. We were like super young. I helped him in the week of the funeral. Was by his side when he buried his father. I stayed around for another week just so he wouldn’t be alone. It was like half a month away from school, but I didn’t care. He needed me, so I was there. He was like a brother to me. We were inseparable.”

“That semester, he barely made through his classes. He was a mess. But I helped him in any way I could. I studied with him. I made sure he was completing his assignments, attending classes. I didn’t let him drown. He was…” His voice shakes, and he pauses then, adjusting himself on the chair.

I can’t picture the Winter I know going through something like this. It’s like two images I’m trying hard to overlay, but they don’t match. Winter seems so tough all the time, it’s hard to imagine him so… vulnerable.

“He was a mess. The guy you’ve met,” Graham says, answering my unvoiced comments, “he’s nothing like the guy he was back then. The guy that I had to pull out of the gutter so many times would’ve never made it this far. But he did. And he did it by stepping all over the only person that offered him a helping hand.”

“What do you mean?”

“Davis was a film major. He had to write a feature for one of his classes, but he couldn’t find it in him to do it. It was one of those mandatory classes, and if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have the pre-req for a bunch of other classes in his senior year. I was studying screenwriting, so I offered to help him.”

“Together, we wrote the script. The movie was based on our friendship. Think Ben and Matt but in feature film format. One couldn’t write it without one another, and we didn’t want to. Like, we had such a great time writing that movie. For the first time in over a year, I saw my friend come back. He was smiling again. He was happy. He had found his footing, and I was so damn happy for him. It killed me to see him the way he was. But I was so busy being happy for him, I didn’t realize he was planning on selling the movie without me. Without giving me credit for it. He never consulted me. He just went behind my back and talked to producers he knew from his time in School Hallway. In the blink of an eye, I saw all the work I’d put in that project become nothing.”

“Oh my God,” I gasp. I’d be livid if anyone did something like this to me, let alone my best friend. I can’t imagine Cece hurting me this way. “What happened?”

“Nothing. I couldn’t prove anything. He started pre-production earlier this year, but from what I’ve heard, it fell through. I don’t know if he’ll try again.”

“Que filho da puta.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. It’s a natural reaction, defaulting to Portuguese when I’m overcome by feelings. That earns me a sheepish smile from Graham.

“Somehow, that sounded extremely cute and dangerously aggressive at the same time.”

“Graham, that’s so awful. I’m so sorry.”

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