Happy Again (This is What Happy Looks Like #1.5)(17)

“Here?”

He nodded. “This is as good a place as any, right?”

“I’m not doing that—”

“Bigger, braver, bolder,” he reminded her. “Remember, it’s not about the face. It’s just about getting psyched up to do something.”

She stared at him, suddenly nervous. “Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“Anything,” he said, turning to hop up onto the stone ledge of the fountain. He stood there, grinning down at her in his shirtsleeves and too-tight pants, and Ellie couldn’t help laughing.

“You’re crazy.”

He reached out to her, and Ellie shrugged the sleeves of his jacket back to take his hand, stepping up there with him. Behind them, the water burbled in the fountain and the lights of the Plaza were moonlike and glowing. On the sidewalk, people continued to hurry down Fifth Avenue, paying no attention to the couple on the ledge. With a little frown, Ellie turned to face Graham.

“What now?” she asked, and he shrugged.

“You could tap-dance,” he suggested, doing a little jig right there on the fountain.

She shook her head.

“Sing?” he asked, pointing to the guy with the guitar.

“You must be joking.”

“Fine,” he said. “Shout?”

“This is stupid—”

“It’s not,” he said, grabbing her shoulders. “You said you wanted to take more chances. Well, now’s the time to get started.”

“Everyone will look.”

“This is Manhattan,” he said. “Nobody cares. Trust me.”

Ellie took a deep breath, turning to face the street. She hated that her heart was pounding even now, when this was nothing more than a silly game, when it didn’t mean anything. Nobody’s looking, she reminded herself. Nobody cares.

Except Graham.

She glanced at him sideways. “What would I even say?”

“Say ‘I heart NY,’” he suggested, and she rolled her eyes. He shrugged, then spread his arms wide. “Fine, then…‘I’m the king of the world!’”

He yelled this last part, and she burst out laughing as an elderly man on a nearby bench looked over at them with a frown.

Graham’s cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were dancing. “Too much movie fluff?”

“Just a little.”

“Okay,” he said, thinking. “Then how about ‘I love Graham Larkin!’”

He half shouted this himself, and a group of girls who were cutting across the plaza glanced at him briefly before continuing on their way.

But Ellie just stared at him.

She knew how he meant it.

He meant it the way most people love him: like a fan, like a guy on a movie poster, like the figure on the red carpet.

He meant it as a joke.

But something about the words—even spoken as they were, full of humor and self-awareness and a little bit of scorn—tugged at something inside Ellie.

She was suddenly aware of how close they were, of the rush of water just behind them, a sound like the waves that night in Henley, when they’d huddled together above the wild and foamy ocean, and Graham had looked at her the same way he was looking at her now, his eyes burning a hole right through her.

“I love Graham Larkin,” she said quietly, her voice full of emotion, and there was a flicker of surprise on his face, and then his expression softened.

“You’re supposed to shout it,” he said, smiling as she tugged on the brim of the cap, forcing him to lower his face, bringing him closer and closer until their lips met. And even though they were in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world, lost in a sea of concrete and wood and metal, she could almost swear he tasted like the ocean.

Fifteen

As they approached the theater, Ellie dropped Graham’s hand.

They were greeted by an enormous poster for the movie, which was propped on an easel just inside the entrance. She’d missed it earlier because of the crowds, but now it stared down at them, huge and shiny and jarring: a nearly life-size picture of Graham, his mouth only inches away from Olivia’s.

Ellie stared at it, and Graham stared at her.

“No,” he said when she finally turned to him. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

Ellie put a reassuring hand on his arm. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to…I know you’re not that guy.”

“Exactly,” he said with a little nod. “I’m the guy who tap-danced on the edge of a fountain.”

“And whose best friend is a pig.”

“And who has a ketchup stain on his handkerchief,” he said, looking down at his suit with a frown, then rotating the handkerchief to hide the stain.

Ellie laughed. “And who carries a handkerchief.”

“See?” he said, pointing at the poster. “I’m not nearly as romantic in real life.”

“Well,” she said, reaching for his hand, “maybe a little.”

There was a security guard at the door to the lower lobby, but he seemed to recognize Graham immediately and stood back to let them pass without a word. Everyone else was still upstairs.

“I guess we should…” Ellie began, but then she saw a pair of legs appear on the escalator, and then a tie, and then the face of Harry Fenton, who bent to peer down at them with a look of relief.