Happy Again (This is What Happy Looks Like #1.5)(11)

“Tell me everything.”

“Everything?”

He nodded. “I have a million questions.”

“Ah,” she said. “So we’ve reached the Q and A portion of the evening already. How about you start with just one?”

“Okay,” he said, twisting his mouth up at the corner. “Why’d you stop writing me?”

Ellie gave him a level stare. “How about a different one?”

“You can’t do that.”

“I just did.”

He sighed. “Fine. But I’m circling back to that later, okay?”

“Okay.”

He pulled the salt and pepper shakers toward him as he thought about his next question. “You said you drove down from school. Are you at Harvard?”

“I am.”

“I knew it,” he said with a satisfied smile. “I knew you had to be. How do you like it so far?”

“You already asked your question,” she told him. “Now it’s my turn.”

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?”

She nodded. “Is all that stuff on the blogs true?”

“You read gossip blogs now?”

“Well, Quinn fills me in,” she said, which was mostly accurate.

He laughed. “How’s Quinn?”

“Still my turn.”

“Okay, what stuff?”

“About you and the cars. And the speeding tickets. And the clubs. You and that girl from that stupid zombie movie. You and Olivia.” She felt her cheeks go hot at this last one, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

Graham reached for his water glass, though he didn’t take a sip. Instead, he spun it around in slippery circles on the table. “Some of it,” he said eventually.

“Which parts?”

“Isn’t it my turn yet?”

“Graham,” she said, and he raised his eyes to meet hers.

“Not the parts about the girls.”

Ellie let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “The clubs?”

“Here and there,” he said. “But nothing too crazy. Really. It’s mostly just the car stuff.”

She waited for him to continue.

“I don’t know what it is,” he said. “The only car I ever drove before all this was my mom’s minivan. And when I bought my own, I just…I don’t know. My life is so claustrophobic sometimes. I guess driving feels like a way to sort of get clear of it.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got to be careful…”

“I don’t want to be worried when I’m in the car,” he said, a slight edge to his voice. “It’s the one place where I don’t have to deal with the cameras or the pressure or everybody telling me what to do or what they think I should do.”

“Except for the police.”

“It’s the one place where I feel free,” he said, ignoring her, and then he shook his head and looked down at the table. “I know that sounds melodramatic.”

She studied him for a moment. “Do you really have a racetrack in your backyard?”

“No,” he said, surprised. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Do you have a car seat for Wilbur?”

“Are you kidding? He gets dizzy when he comes trotting around a corner too fast. I promise you—the last thing I’d want is a carsick pig for a copilot. Where are you getting this stuff?”

“There are a lot of rumors out there…”

“Yeah, well, let me set the record straight: I haven’t been driving around a backyard racetrack with my pig like some kind of eccentric billionaire.” He brightened. “I did teach him a new trick, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking proud. “I ask him to give me a kiss, and he does.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a trick. I think half the girls in the world would be happy to do that on command.”

“Only half?” Graham teased, and Ellie rolled her eyes.

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’ve mostly just been making out with Wilbur.”

He laughed. “I’m pretty sure he feels the same way. Is it my turn again?”

She nodded.

“Tell me more about Harvard.”

“It’s only been a few weeks,” she said. “Not much to tell.”

Graham gave her a look. “Come on.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s fine?”

“It’s Harvard. You know.”

“I don’t, actually,” he said, rapping on his head with his knuckles. “As you may recall, I don’t go to college, so my brain is filled with movie fluff.”

“What’s movie fluff?”

“You know, happy endings and unlikely friendships and secret societies and janitors who turn out to be geniuses. That sort of thing.”

They both leaned back as the waitress returned with their milk shakes, each topped with a lopsided pile of whipped cream. Ellie watched Graham take a long sip of his until the glass was half-empty.

“You definitely should’ve worn a different pair of pants,” she said, and he laughed and patted his stomach.