Falling Into You (6 page)

“Of course,” she says
, sweeping her hand over the empty seat across from her. “Please.”

I jump
in the booth, glancing around to find the waitress. Meeting the eyes of an older woman who had clearly been working in this particular diner for at least
ten years too lo
ng, I pantomime drinking coffee. S
he nods
, albeit with a tiny smirk on her face. It was going to be a minute before I saw that coffee.

I turn
my attention back to the girl.
Goddamn
Sophia
.
Now
you exiled yourself until the car comes and you’re stuck trying to make conversation with flip flops.
I sigh
. At least I would get to
see
her eyes again.

“What’s up?” I ask
her. She
was putting her phone away and muttering an apology about being rude. My interest was piqued—clearly a childhood with family dinners and no cell phone conversations, then.

“Not much?”
Ice cold.

“Sorry. I’m Chris. I saw you in here and figured that I might as well sit rather than stand.”

It wasn’t totally true. There were a couple of stools at the counter, and I could have taken one of those.

“Of course,” she says
, still
staring
at the table rather than at me.
“I was about to leave in a minute, anyway.
Just needed a little break.”

“A
break, huh?”

“A break,” she confirms
.

We sat in silence for a couple of seconds. I was going to have to try a little harder.

“So, I’ve never seen you before. Was that your first
Sophia
party?”

“Yeah. It got a little cr
owded for me up there.
”
She hesitates, looking at my face and shaking
her head slightly. She had just made a decision, and I wasn’t sure what it was yet.

“Yeah, it does that.”

She let
s
out the breath she
had been holding in and offers
me a small smile
, enough for me to remember the way the space around her had lit up when she had smiled at me from across the terrace.

“Most of us know each other from
high school,” I say
. “I’m pretty certain you didn’t go to Sampson.”

She laughs
,
and it’s a
throaty
sound and
full of mischief
. “What gave me away?”

I hesitate
for a second
and
decide to
tell
the truth
. “Well, I could have figured it out, because we live in a small, fairly closed-off world. Plus, Sampson only had 100 kids in each
grade, so when I realized I didn’t know you, it was pretty clear that you didn’t go there. But, actually, it was the flip-flops.”

She looks
down at her feet
and then smiles
again at me
. This
was certainly a change from most of the girls I knew. Their favorite facial expressions were somewhere between a smirk and a pout, echoing the expressions of
the
girls
on the runway
. They were probably aiming for mysterious and sexy, but it usually ca
me off as rude and snobby.
 

“I live in flip f
lops,” she admits
, leaning slightly across the table and cupping her hand around the side of her mouth.

“I am a complete, total, hopeless klutz. When I saw that balcony, I knew that if I wore the only pair of heels I own, I definitely would have toppl
ed off the side of the balcony. N
o on
e would have ever seen me again.” She finishes
in an exaggerated stage whisper
, leaning across the table conspiratorially
.

Fair enough. I’d had the same concerns after seeing a too-drunk girl go out to the balcony earlier
that night
.
I grin at her, and her mouth opens
slightly
. Damn. That was d
efinitely not
the mouth of the girl next door
.

I must have stop
ped talking, because she offers
a question.
“So, Sampson, huh? Are you in college now?”

“I’m taking a break,” I tell
her.

“A break, huh?” S
he
echoes my earlier question.

“Yep. A break.”

She hadn’t offered an explanation or an excuse for her break, and
I didn’t want to tell her that I was an actor.
There were only two ways
that girls responded
.
Either they would get that
starry-eyed look (like Sophia),
immediately inch
ing
closer to me
. Or,
and I
felt like this was more devious
,
they would pretend that they weren’t interested in movies at all, like that was supposed to turn me on.

I had
an older sister
who would
sit and relay
the plots of her favorite novels to me
over morning coffee
(unfortunately). The regular, everyday girl who landed the
movie star/rock star/sensitive/
rich and famous
guy
always had absolutely no interest in fame or celebrity. She was usually some do-gooder that captured the attention of
said celebrity
, who was
famous
and
yet remarkably normal, kind,
chivalrous, and generous
.

This was slightly unrealistic. While I’m sure do-gooder girl existed somewhere, I had never met one like her.

“Like, a gap year? Volunteer
work or something?” she asks
, looking at me dubiously.

What the hell. Why not get it out of the way?

I could figure out if she was from the hanger-on
or do-gooder category
. I’d be willing to place my bets on everyday girl with the heart of gold.
I
t would
definitely
disappoint me slightly if she pretended to have absolutely no interest in fame and fortune
, though
.

“No, I was in LA shooting a movie. I have some press to do here, and then I have to get back to reading scripts and trying to figure out what my next project is.”

“No way.
You made a movie?
That is
the freaking coolest thing ever.
”
Her eyes were suddenly alight with questions
.

Did she just say the word freaking?
Not the anticipated reaction.
Not at all.

I laugh
at the expression on her face. Her eyes
were impossibly
wide and blue.
Still guarded, though.

“A movie fan, huh?”

She nods
vigorously. “I’m kind of a pop culture junkie. I’ve loved movies since before I could even sit through them. My mom made me watch
Gone with the Wind
with her when I was three, and
I kind of fell in love with the whole thing
. I like stories, you know? It’s nice to escape and pretend that you’re a character in them. You can forget about everything else for a couple of hours and just imagine that you’re the one stuck in the middle of some impossible situation.
I’m a total sucker for a good movie.
”

“
Me, too. And it’s pretty freaking cool that
I actually get to be the one in the story,” I admitted.
I had definitely just used the word freaking. Her excitement was infectious.
“I mean, it’s not as simple as all of that. The endless hours of having someone stick pins in you while trying to get your costume to fit right and the fifteen takes of a scene kind of take some of the magic away. But you
do
still get to be a part of it.”

“Wow,” she says
, leaning one cheek on her elbow and sipping her coffee, a dream in her eyes. “But you’
re not, like…” H
er voice drifts
off, and I
can
tell that she was thinking,
“
famous.
”

“Hardly.” I
chuckle. “A lot of people think that you just wake up one day, and you’re famous. But it doesn’t work like that. At least, I don’t think it works like that.”

“But you could be. You could have like, a limo, and there would be people following you around everywhere and girls throwing themselves at your feet, just to try to get a chance with the infamous Chris.”

“I have to admit, that might be pretty cool.”

“
Hell yes, that would be pretty cool.
Tell me about the movie you’re in. I’ll have to go see it.
I understand that this is probably your worst nightmare, being stuck with some crazy girl who’s basically obsessed with celebrities, but you’re trapped at least until you get your coffee.
”

I let a long, loose laugh escape and she stares at me in surprise before joining me. “It’s not my worst nightmare. And I’m not stuck.”

“Uh, huh.”
She’s smirking. “Ok, go
on.” She waves her hand at me
, all traces of nervousness gone
from her eyes
.

I start
telling her about the movie, which was called, disappointingly,
A Fairy Tale
(at least until someone realized that was a really stupid fucking title and changed it
.) I hope.
The plot was pretty simple: bad boy meets incredibly beautiful and kind-hearted girl dressed in dark-rimmed
glasses
and nerdy overalls, they tutor inner-city kids together after he gets in trouble for breaking and entering the school
on a dare
, boy and girl fall in love, something keeps them apart, and then they meet up at the high school prom for a dance after the girl undergoes a major makeover transformation.

It was a
highly original plot
.

“That sounds like a terrible movie,” she
bursts out as soon as I finish. She’s
trying to hide her
smile from underneath her hand, but
I can see
that
her body
is
shaking with laughter.

“Well, it’s not…” I b
luster
.
My phone buzzes. The car service. I click ignore, and look back at her. Hell, I’ll walk home if it means that she’ll keep laughing at me.

She stops
chuckling and removes her hand
. “What I meant to say was, it sounds absolutely terrible and exactly like the kind of movie I would love. I’m a sucker for high-school romances. I feel like I should have grown out of that a while ago, but I can’t help it. I’m totally obsessed.”

I’m definitely not used to this level of honesty. There’s almost no guile in her. I can’t imagine that she ever got away with sneaking into her house late at night or skipping a class; guilt would be written over her whole face.

“I think that’s what the movie producers are hoping for. That teenage gir
ls, and some girls who are not s
o teenaged, won’t be able to resist.”

“
They won’t,” she says with absolute certainty
.
“
Who’s the girl in it?”

“Cassidy Chapman
.
”
Cassidy was the star on
a
teen show
,
Hannah the Detective
. At least I’m pretty sure that was the name of it. Basically,
her character goes around and solves mysteries
that the police
can’t, with her motley crew of animal detective friends
.
While the show is absolute trash, Cassidy is certifiably famous. She even has
a tiny paparazzi army
that follows
her everywhere. When I met her, I’d been surprised to learn that she was pretty normal and wanted to go to colleg
e, but her overbearing
s
tage father refused to let her. I
nstead, she’d been making a stream of mid-budget teen movies ever since.

She had looked at me one day during filming appraisingly and said,
“You’ll get one of the
big-budget summer movies one of these days, and your life will be turned into a circus.
And the only thing that you’ll wish for is that you could go to a football game.
”