Scandalized(37)

“You look adorable.” She really does. Thick black hair in a messy bun, dark eyes glimmering. Everyone who meets Eden loves her because she is so unapologetically herself. “Come on. We’re sweaty and tired and sandy anyway.” I make puppy eyes at her. “And he’s so sweet. Don’t be uncomfortable. Think of him as Alec and maybe that will help?”

She presses her fingertips to her lips like it’s hitting her all over again who’s in her living room. “I swear there was still a part of me that thought you were making shit up and it wasn’t him.”

“I know you did.”

Pointing down the hall, she whispers, “But he’s right there, Gigi.”

“He’s gonna hang out, if that’s okay?” I tilt my head and smile winningly at her. “Come on. Hang out with us?”

I return to the living room with Eden trailing behind me. Alec stands there in the black jeans he put on before we drove home, with his hands placidly tucked in his pockets, looking around. I am grateful that Eden and I are both relative neat freaks and keep the apartment clean, but even so, it’s hard to not see the space through his eyes.

It’s small, furnished with a random assortment of furniture we’ve both collected over the years. A yellow sofa. Big comfy blue chair. Low coffee table we decorated with tiles ourselves a few weeks before my UK trip. The walls are dotted with a hodgepodge collection of paintings by local artists and framed photos of our families and ourselves. I’m sure Alec’s place in London could eat our little apartment for a snack. I wonder what he thinks while looking at this space, if he senses what’s missing, feels the ghosts of the beloved art and framed photos from college and after, ones we put away in boxes and agreed didn’t deserve to grace these walls.

“Eden, this is Alec.”

He turns and smiles his real smile—the one that triggers the instinctive smile in response, even through a television screen. I watch her try to keep her composure together when his dimples make a prominent cameo.

She essentially has to frown to keep her face from cracking wide open. Eden narrows her eyes, humming vaguely. “Alex, is it?”

“Stop it.” I smack her arm, and beside me, Alec bursts out laughing. “Alec, this is my roommate, Eden.”

“It’s great to meet you.” He reaches out to shake her hand. “Gigi has said wonderful things.”

“He’s lying,” I say, grinning at the two of them. “I told him you’re a hell beast.”

She shakes his hand and I know her well enough to guess that every molecule of blood has risen to the surface of her skin and is banging at the door. I bet her hand feels like a piece of burning coal in his palm right now.

“I have to say this,” she says, voice tight. “I’ll do my best to be cool, but I’ve seen everything you’ve ever done, and it won’t be easy for me to not lose it a little that you’re standing in my apartment.”

He smiles sweetly. “I get that. I still get nervous around actors I like, too.”

She makes a hilarious sound—half moan, half yelp—as she covers her face.

“What can I do to make you feel more comfortable?” he asks.

She laughs from behind her hands. “Probably nothing.” She turns jerkily in place, unsure what to do with her body. “Actually, I might drink.”

“Well,” he says, “I’ll drink, too. And if it makes you feel better, I have done incredibly stupid and embarrassing things in front of Gigi.”

A laugh rips out of me. “Oh, please. When?”

“You once walked in on me dancing to Eminem in my underwear.”

I gape at him. “When was this?”

“I think you were… seven? I was thirteen. It was terrible.”

“I have zero recollection of this,” I tell him, awed. “I’m deeply disappointed in my subpar brain.”

Alec laughs. “I really thought I traumatized you.”

“Clearly not.”

“And the hip-hop at the Larchmont talent show?” he says, wincing.

An image floods my memory and I clap a hand over my mouth. “How did I forget this?”

“Hip-hop?” Eden echoes, finally.

Alec nods, looking at her. “A few of my friends and I were pretty sure we were going to be the next big thing on the LA hip-hop scene when we were…” He looks up. “God, maybe sixteen? Gigi and Sunny would watch us practice after school for months.”

“They were so bad,” I confirm, remembering the routine they’d worked up, with lots of aggressive hip thrusting, empty space being filled with mumbled “yo, yo, yos,” and dubious attempts at break dancing. “Wow, keep going, this is great.”

“I think that’s enough for now.”

“This did help a lot.” Eden takes a steadying breath. “I can remain conscious for whatever happens next, but I don’t think I can call you Alec.”

“Okay.” He squashes down a charmed smile, and it does nothing to help the dimple situation. “What will you call me?”

She studies him. “Frank.”

He lifts one eyebrow. “I look like a Frank?”

She nods. Already I can see her unwinding. “You are my roommate’s friend, Frank.”