Unwritten
Page 10
“Zoey, sweetie.” She catches me as I burst in the door. “How was everything with the movie? Come sit down, and tell me all about it.”
“I’m so sorry, I’m running late,” I apologize, already hurrying up the stairs. “But I’ll tell you everything tomorrow!”
I arrive in my quaint, pale-blue room at the end of the hall and close the door behind me. I take a deep breath.
Relax.
I wish I could take all night getting ready, so I could savor every moment of anticipation, but there’s no time for that now. I settle for a quick shower instead, using my favorite rose-scented body wash, and humming along to the playlist of classic Sinatra songs playing on my phone.
How long have I been waiting for this?
It feels like forever. After that day I met Blake on the steps at school, part of me wondered if I had made the whole thing up. A gorgeous guy appearing out of nowhere right when I needed his comfort the most? It was crazy—the kind of thing that only happened in the movies I watched, not real life.
But somehow, his words made me believe things could be different: I would get through high school, no matter what.
And he was right. That first night in the dorms, I had a new girl assigned to my bunk, Tegan. I found her curled up listening to British indie bands, red-eyed from crying. I sat with her, sharing Red Vines and talking until lights out, and just like that, I found my first friend.
My best friend.
Lexi and the rest of the girls didn’t matter, not when I had someone to giggle with in the back of class, and to skip study sessions with to sneak into town to go to the movies. And then, when Christmas break rolled around and she invited me back to LA to spend vacation with her family, I walked into the living room and found Blake with his feet up playing video games.
It felt like fate—right up until the moment he burped, gave me a casual wave, and yelled to his girlfriend in the kitchen to hurry up before she lost her place in the game.
To him, I was still just the kid he’d found on a bad day, a younger sister type he helped out because that’s what you do. But to me, he was my hero.
The only boy I ever wanted.
Tegan had her crush too, on one of her brother’s bandmates, but while she would talk for hours about Connor, I never said a word. I couldn’t. Tegan was already sensitive enough about girls being friends with her just because of her hot brothers; and although I had no clue she was related to Blake for the first months of our friendship, it felt like a betrayal to be sitting at the dinner table next to her, sneaking secret looks at Blake across the room.
I couldn’t risk our friendship, not when Blake didn’t realize I existed.
So I kept my crush a secret, all these years. Sure, I’ve dated other boys, and once I moved to Paris, I made it my mission to learn as much about men as possible. I knew that I was way behind the curve.
“A lovesick puppydog…”
I shake off the painful memory and turn my attention to the night ahead. As much as I want to break out a stunning dress and knock Blake dead, I know the bar in town here is as casual as they come. I pick out a simple black sweater-dress and belt it around my waist, then pull on my leather boots and fix my hair in tousled waves. I can’t resist adding a thin line of black eyeliner, flicked out at the edges in a cool cat’s-eye. It took me three sessions with the girls in the makeup department at the magazine to master the look, but now I’ve got it down.
I check my reflection, my pulse already kicking with nerves. I look cool, polished, casual, yet sophisticated. Exactly the image I’ve worked so hard to create.
I smile, remembering the clueless, gawky girl who arrived in Paris with a bag full of sweatshirts and a broken heart. Talk about getting thrown in the deep end! By the end of my first day in the city, I felt like a fashion failure; by the end of my first week, I was determined to leave the old Zoey Barnes behind and transform myself into someone new.
No, not new, I remind myself, grabbing my purse and heading for the door. Me. The girl I’d always felt I could be, just I’d never seen her staring back at me in the mirror before. Everything I did in Paris was about making those two versions of myself match up: finally feeling like the world could see me the way I’d always seen myself.
And now it’s time for Blake to see me this way too.
It’s not far, so I walk over to Jimmy’s. It’s a great little dive bar in the middle of Beachwood Bay, just across the street from the harbor. I’ve been here before with Tegan, and now I step inside the front doors and look around. It’s busy tonight, every table full with movie people and regulars from town: playing pool, kicking back with a beer, and enjoying one of the owner, Garrett’s, famous burgers.
I scan the crowd, already feeling jittery with nerves. I see several familiar faces from set, and then spot Blake over at the bar. He’s wearing old jeans that fit him like a glove and a faded blue T-shirt that makes his tan glow golden even in the dim light.
My stomach flutters.
I catch his eye and wave, heading over. “Sorry I’m late.” I greet him with a kiss on the cheek. “I was cataloguing six boxes of fake sand for tomorrow’s shoot.”
Blake looks confused. “Isn’t there plenty on the beach?”
“Sure, regular, ordinary sand,” I tease. “But this is perfect golden stuff, for you guys to roll around in during a passionate kiss.”
“Well, when you put it like that, how could we get by with the real deal?” Blake grins.
There’s a pause, and my nerves hit me again. It’s weird, I’ve spent years of my life hanging out around Blake, but it’s like our New Year’s kiss wiped the slate clean. Now, I feel like I barely know him at all. At least, not like this: on a date, together. Alone.
“I’m so sorry, I’m running late,” I apologize, already hurrying up the stairs. “But I’ll tell you everything tomorrow!”
I arrive in my quaint, pale-blue room at the end of the hall and close the door behind me. I take a deep breath.
Relax.
I wish I could take all night getting ready, so I could savor every moment of anticipation, but there’s no time for that now. I settle for a quick shower instead, using my favorite rose-scented body wash, and humming along to the playlist of classic Sinatra songs playing on my phone.
How long have I been waiting for this?
It feels like forever. After that day I met Blake on the steps at school, part of me wondered if I had made the whole thing up. A gorgeous guy appearing out of nowhere right when I needed his comfort the most? It was crazy—the kind of thing that only happened in the movies I watched, not real life.
But somehow, his words made me believe things could be different: I would get through high school, no matter what.
And he was right. That first night in the dorms, I had a new girl assigned to my bunk, Tegan. I found her curled up listening to British indie bands, red-eyed from crying. I sat with her, sharing Red Vines and talking until lights out, and just like that, I found my first friend.
My best friend.
Lexi and the rest of the girls didn’t matter, not when I had someone to giggle with in the back of class, and to skip study sessions with to sneak into town to go to the movies. And then, when Christmas break rolled around and she invited me back to LA to spend vacation with her family, I walked into the living room and found Blake with his feet up playing video games.
It felt like fate—right up until the moment he burped, gave me a casual wave, and yelled to his girlfriend in the kitchen to hurry up before she lost her place in the game.
To him, I was still just the kid he’d found on a bad day, a younger sister type he helped out because that’s what you do. But to me, he was my hero.
The only boy I ever wanted.
Tegan had her crush too, on one of her brother’s bandmates, but while she would talk for hours about Connor, I never said a word. I couldn’t. Tegan was already sensitive enough about girls being friends with her just because of her hot brothers; and although I had no clue she was related to Blake for the first months of our friendship, it felt like a betrayal to be sitting at the dinner table next to her, sneaking secret looks at Blake across the room.
I couldn’t risk our friendship, not when Blake didn’t realize I existed.
So I kept my crush a secret, all these years. Sure, I’ve dated other boys, and once I moved to Paris, I made it my mission to learn as much about men as possible. I knew that I was way behind the curve.
“A lovesick puppydog…”
I shake off the painful memory and turn my attention to the night ahead. As much as I want to break out a stunning dress and knock Blake dead, I know the bar in town here is as casual as they come. I pick out a simple black sweater-dress and belt it around my waist, then pull on my leather boots and fix my hair in tousled waves. I can’t resist adding a thin line of black eyeliner, flicked out at the edges in a cool cat’s-eye. It took me three sessions with the girls in the makeup department at the magazine to master the look, but now I’ve got it down.
I check my reflection, my pulse already kicking with nerves. I look cool, polished, casual, yet sophisticated. Exactly the image I’ve worked so hard to create.
I smile, remembering the clueless, gawky girl who arrived in Paris with a bag full of sweatshirts and a broken heart. Talk about getting thrown in the deep end! By the end of my first day in the city, I felt like a fashion failure; by the end of my first week, I was determined to leave the old Zoey Barnes behind and transform myself into someone new.
No, not new, I remind myself, grabbing my purse and heading for the door. Me. The girl I’d always felt I could be, just I’d never seen her staring back at me in the mirror before. Everything I did in Paris was about making those two versions of myself match up: finally feeling like the world could see me the way I’d always seen myself.
And now it’s time for Blake to see me this way too.
It’s not far, so I walk over to Jimmy’s. It’s a great little dive bar in the middle of Beachwood Bay, just across the street from the harbor. I’ve been here before with Tegan, and now I step inside the front doors and look around. It’s busy tonight, every table full with movie people and regulars from town: playing pool, kicking back with a beer, and enjoying one of the owner, Garrett’s, famous burgers.
I scan the crowd, already feeling jittery with nerves. I see several familiar faces from set, and then spot Blake over at the bar. He’s wearing old jeans that fit him like a glove and a faded blue T-shirt that makes his tan glow golden even in the dim light.
My stomach flutters.
I catch his eye and wave, heading over. “Sorry I’m late.” I greet him with a kiss on the cheek. “I was cataloguing six boxes of fake sand for tomorrow’s shoot.”
Blake looks confused. “Isn’t there plenty on the beach?”
“Sure, regular, ordinary sand,” I tease. “But this is perfect golden stuff, for you guys to roll around in during a passionate kiss.”
“Well, when you put it like that, how could we get by with the real deal?” Blake grins.
There’s a pause, and my nerves hit me again. It’s weird, I’ve spent years of my life hanging out around Blake, but it’s like our New Year’s kiss wiped the slate clean. Now, I feel like I barely know him at all. At least, not like this: on a date, together. Alone.
