Nothing Like the Movies

Liz

The hard press.

Why couldn’t I stop thinking about what he’d said? About the way he’d said it?

You should probably brace yourself.

It’d been hours since he said it, and I was still blushing and butterflying like the moment had just passed.

“So. Liz,” Wade said, grinning. “Anything interesting happen on your balcony last night?”

I lowered the camera. “You know about that?”

A bunch of the guys were hooping at the courts behind Hitch, so Clark and I were filming, although Clark was waaay on the other end. Mickey was dribbling the basketball, giving me a stupid smile, while Eli and Wade laughed knowingly from the lane, like they had the keys to the vault or something. I still didn’t know the specifics of what exactly Wes had been doing out there, and I was dying to find out.

“Shut up, man,” Mickey said. But he was still beaming when he said, “Just because he’s not here doesn’t mean we should—”

“It’s not a secret, though,” Wade interrupted, reaching in and stealing the ball. “He saw us taking pictures and only said to shut up until after he was done. He never asked us to be silent forever.”

“True,” Eli said.

“Will you please fill me in?” I snapped. “All I know is that he climbed onto the balcony and then fell off the building.”

“Into a rosebush,” Wade volunteered, looking like he was thoroughly enjoying the spilling of this tea as he drove the lane. “Like an idiot.”

“Stop,” Mickey said, putting up a hand but failing to get the block as Wade’s shot went in. “He wasn’t trying to be an idiot, Liz. He wants to ask you out, and he thought that climbing on your balcony and creating a whole romantic scene would help his chances.”

“What kind of romantic scene?” I asked, still trying to process the fact that not only had Wes climbed up the side of my building—idiot could’ve been killed—but he’d told his friends he was going to do it. “Like, there was only water and broken glass out there when I saw it.”

“Guys, let me,” Eli said, grinning as he walked off the court, toward me, pulling out his phone. “These are photos of Wesley preparing to woo you.”

Why was my heart racing? I leaned closer as he held out the phone, hoping I seemed chill as I looked at the display.

“This is him coming back from the flower shop,” he said, using his finger to flip through multiple pictures of Wes carrying flowers—God, they were daisies—into his suite. He scrolled through pictures—it was a lot of daisies—and I swallowed hard.

What the hell, Bennett?

“Now these are my favorite,” he said, “where he is working hard on his little cupidy art project.”

I leaned even closer, my throat a little tight as I stared at a photo of Wes sitting on the floor of their suite, wearing headphones and bagging up flower petals. The lyric from that Abe Parker song—I miss your stupid face—whispered into me as Eli slid his finger across the screen, showing another dorm picture of Wes, this time writing on poster board with a Sharpie.

The only word he’d written at that point was TO.

What had he written?

What the hell had he written?

And what had he planned to do with the poster?

He’d been right—Little Liz would’ve loved this.

Thank God she was long gone.

Little Liz can’t come to the phone right now. Why? Oh, ’cause she’s dead.

“Okay, don’t be an asshole, Strauss,” Mick said. Then he walked over and said to me, “The finished product really was amazing, even though your neighbor destroyed it.”

Now he pulled out his phone and held it out to me, and I was pretty sure I didn’t look chill at all anymore.

Because Wes took a selfie on my balcony. It was my balcony in the picture, but it had been absolutely transformed with flowers and candles.

By Wes.

Into something the old me would’ve loved.

“Wow,” I managed, blinking fast, feeling unsettled. “That’s, uh… wow.”

“So?” Wade waggled his eyebrows and grinned. “Are you gonna go out with him?”

“Like I’m going to discuss my personal life with you,” I said, rolling my eyes as my insides rolled with turmoil. He’d climbed a building to set up flowers and candles for me. Gaaaah, what the hell, Bennett? I sounded very detached and turmoil-free when I quipped, “You can’t even remember to ask me about Campbell when you’re sober.”

That made Eli laugh, but Mick wasn’t going to be distracted. “Bennett’s a good guy, though. You should give him a chance.”

“Yeah, Buxxie,” Wade agreed. “He risked his life to sweep you off your feet.”

Wes chose that moment to appear, casually dribbling a basketball, which did nothing to help my insides.

Because he was wearing those glasses again, the prick.

Then he looked over, as if sensing our conversation, but instead of even registering the way his friends were grinning, his gaze landed on me, and he smiled. It was big and wildly intimate, the kind of smile that stole the breath from my body, and my face instantly burned.

“You should go ask him out,” Mick said, sounding excited. “And totally blow his mind.”

“I have work to do,” I said, grabbing my camera and raising it to my eyes.

Partly because I had work to do, and partly because I was desperate to cover my face so no one could see how confused—and utterly lost—I felt all of a sudden.

“Hey, Buxxie,” Wade yelled, “can I get Campbell’s number before you leave?”

“What?” I lowered the camera and loved that Wade Brooks looked sincere for once in his life. “You seriously want it?”

“I’m suddenly inspired by romantic idiots,” he said, grinning sheepishly. “What can I say?”