This Is What Happy Looks Like(33)

Part of it was that he truly enjoyed acting, and he couldn’t imagine walking away from the ever-expanding opportunities in his future, all the actors he still wanted to work with and the roles he still wanted to play. And part of it was that he just didn’t see the point. The idea of college was to study hard in order to get a good job, in order to make a lot of money. But he already had plenty of money, enough to last him his whole life. And he could learn anywhere, couldn’t he?

But if he was being really honest, it was about more than just that. The way he’d always pictured college—hurrying to classes in ivy-leafed buildings and trudging up snow-covered pathways in the winter, sitting perched on the bleachers during football games and debating philosophy in rooms full of bright-eyed students—seemed hopelessly distant from his new life, where he’d completely lost the ability to blend in. And the last thing he wanted was to be one of those celebrities who fancied themselves a scholar, making a halfhearted effort at being a normal college kid while being trailed by cameras and gawked at by classmates, missing finals to jet off and shoot an indie film in Vancouver. Graham had no interest in being any more of a spectacle than he already was.

He knew his parents were quietly hoping he’d change his mind, and he hated to disappoint them. But he felt sure about his decision. And that had become just one more reason that they no longer seemed to understand one another, that they’d become less like a family and more like three people who had once lived together for a time.

What they needed, Graham was thinking now as he neared Ellie’s house, was an old-fashioned family vacation. What they needed was food and flags and fireworks in a place that was about as far from California as you could get. In just a few short days here, he already felt like a different person. Maybe Henley would work its magic on his parents as well.

But when the door opened and Ellie appeared—her long hair still damp from the shower, looking beautiful in a bright green sundress—he realized it wasn’t Henley at all.

It was her.

He leaned forward to kiss her—a movement so automatic it felt like tying his shoe or climbing the stairs, something you do without even thinking about it—and he was still several inches away when he wrenched himself back unsteadily, everything coming into focus with an abruptness that startled him.

They hadn’t even had their first kiss yet, and here he was, leaning in like it was something that happened every day, a motion like a ritual, like they’d kissed a thousand times before. It took a moment to right himself, and he pulled his shoulders back as he regained his equilibrium. He didn’t want to be half asleep the first time he kissed Ellie. For that, he wanted to be wide awake.

She was eyeing him with a look of confusion, and Graham couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Hopefully she didn’t realize that’s what he’d been about to do.

Hopefully she just thought he had terrible balance.

“Hi,” he said with a sheepish grin.

“Come on in,” she said, looking somewhat flustered herself.

She ushered him into a hallway that smelled of lemon cleaning solution, and Graham stooped to pet Bagel, who was sniffing his shoes with a businesslike air. They both followed Ellie into the kitchen, where the table was set for two. The room was dimly lit and there was still a hint of dish soap in the air. But Graham hardly noticed anything beyond that; his eyes were pinned to Ellie’s green dress as she moved between the cabinets and the refrigerator and back again, her face apologetic.

“It’s not like we ever have a lot of good stuff here,” she was saying, “but I figured there’d at least be a frozen pizza or something.”

“So what you’re saying is,” Graham teased, “there’s no lobster?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Very funny.”

“It’s fine,” he said, moving beside her to examine the contents of the pantry. He pulled out a nearly empty box of crackers and a can of tuna. “We’ll have a smorgasbord. A little of this and a little of that.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, leaning against the sink. “We probably should’ve gone into town. I can’t believe I’m feeding you stale crackers.”

“Are you kidding?” he said, sweeping an arm around the room. “Not just anyone gets to eat at Chez O’Neill. I’ve heard this is one of the most exclusive establishments in Maine.”

“That’s true,” she said with a grin. “We only cater to A-list celebrities.”

They rummaged through the refrigerator, spilling everything out onto the counter and then standing side by side as they assembled the meal, a random assortment ranging from microwave popcorn to apple slices, two leftover pieces of pizza, and some frozen peas. What looked less than appetizing went right to Bagel, and the rest made it to the kitchen table, where they arranged the dishes in front of them as if it were a buffet.

“So,” Graham said as he pulled out a chair. “Did you ever figure out if you’re doing that poetry course?”

Ellie looked surprised at the question, and he smiled, because it was the same way he’d felt when she mentioned his drawings earlier, like she’d plucked the thought straight out of his head. She stood on tiptoe to grab a bowl from a high shelf, and when she turned around again, she nodded.

“I’m going in August,” she said, but there was a catch in her voice. “I’m pretty excited about it. They have this one professor there that—”