Page 12 of First Impressions of You

Come to think of it, how does she know who he is?

I turn to her, the question at the tip of my tongue when Winter’s voice cuts through the air again.

“Cam, we gotta go. Em’s waiting for us.”

For the second time I’ve run into him, the only thing I hear him say is that he and Cam should go. It’s almost as if he physically can’t stand being near me.

Well, that makes two of us, Winter Davis.

“I’ll see you around?” Cam says, giving me an apologetic smile. I have a feeling he gives out many of those if he hangs out with Winter that much.

“You bet.”

With a short and awkward wave, he leaves us to follow Winter down the stairs next to the elevator. They aren’t out of earshot yet when Olivia screams. “Oh my god, that was Winter Davis.”

She used Portuguese, but I’m pretty sure they could make out his name from that sentence. If his groan is any indication, he not only heard it but also got annoyed by it.

“And who the fuck is Winter Davis, Olivia?” I start making my way to the uniforms because this little encounter took some precious minutes from our time. Her reaction makes absolute zero sense to me.

Her eyes go wide as saucers, a wrinkle forming in her forehead. “You’re kidding, right?” She hands me a large black polo shirt as she says it.

“Thanks,” I say, moving to the pants. “I’m not kidding. I have no idea who he is.” Other than an asshole who thinks I’m not talented enough to even audition for his play, I add mentally. “Should I?”

“Sometimes I forget that you’re old.” She hands me a pair of size-16 pants. How does she find the uniform so much faster than me? She’s only been here a minute. I’ve been here for months, and I still take forever to find the uniform in these endless racks.

“Excuse me? I’m twenty-six, Olivia, I’m not ancient. And what does that have to do with Winter Davis?” I find a pair her size and hand it to her.

“Thanks.” We walk to the register to have our uniforms beeped. “You’re old enough that you didn’t watch the show he did. It aired for like ten years, I think. I was obsessed.”

I suddenly remember Olivia commenting something about a rumor that was circulating among team members that there was a Hollywood actor in one of the productions this year.

“Wait, you’re saying Winter is famous?”

“Luiza, sometimes I wonder how the fuck you got into med school.” I shudder at the memory. This is a part of my life I rather forget existed. We move from the wardrobe to the locker room and choose a locker, stuffing our things inside. “Yes. Winter Davis is famous. Like, Hollywood famous.”

Olivia is taking off her clothes to change into the black polo we have to wear at the front gate when she stops suddenly, her face covered by her flowered dress.

“Hold on.”

“Are you stuck?” I take a step toward her.

She pulls her dress back down. “I’m not stuck.” She waves me off. “Have you met him before this?”

“Yes?” It comes off more like a question than an answer.

“Luiza Bento.” She sounds so much like our mom when she says my name like that I take a step back. For a split second, I forget I’m the older sister here. Shaking off the weird sensation of feeling small, I square my shoulders.

“What?”

“You’re telling me you met Winter Davis, and you thought he was a regular person?”

“Yes? I auditioned with him for the play,” I say, even though I know for a fact he’s not regular. Snobby and rude aren’t what I consider regular.

Olivia yanks her dress off, as if it had personally wronged her. Her dark hair, miraculously, remains perfectly tamed in the Dutch braid I did for her before we left the house. She whips it off her shoulder.

“You… auditioned with him?” Her voice has gone softer, which, somehow, makes her sound even more like our mom when she’s so mad at her she can’t even bring herself to yell.

“Quit the drama.” I turn my back to her to end the conversation, even though there’s a part of me that’s really curious to know what the hell she’s on about.

---