poring over my face so slowly that it almost feels like he’s touching me, and I have to stop myself from either pulling away or throwing myself at him. He’s not even doing anything; he’s just looking at me. That’s the effect this guy has on me, and that’s why I know I made the right decision not to make out with him or go to dinner with him or whatever.
Even though I really, really want to make out with him.
Someone like him—famous, confident, perfect—can’t possibly understand what it’s like to be rejected and alone. The way I felt when I saw that article about him and Tarah? I don’t ever want to experience that again, and I know that if this weird, amorphous, flirtation-type thing with Drew progresses any further, I definitely would.
I’m not putting myself in a situation where I could lose someone else. When I meet my Tom Hanks, and it’s real, then I’ll know: there won’t be any risk and I won’t ever have to be afraid of a broken heart.
Drew looks like he wants to say something else, but finally he says, “If that’s what you want,” with no trace of frustration or malice in his voice.
I stand up, my knees cracking, and Drew follows.
“We’re friends, okay?” Drew asks. “If you ever want to send me your screenplay, please do. I’d love to read it. Seriously.”
I nod. “Thanks.”
“I’ll see you on set tomorrow,” Drew says. “Oh. And at the wrap party.”
“Oh yeah,” I say, remembering that Tommy promised to take us all out for drinks after we finish tomorrow.
“I’m glad we met, too,” Drew says, his hand reaching out as if he’s about to touch me, but then his fingers hover before falling back to his side. “And Tarah and me—we’re really not—”
I shake my head. “No. I believe you.”
“Well, I better get back to the game,” Drew says, gesturing over his shoulder. “Dungeon Master Rick runs a pretty tight campaign.”
“Tell me about it.” I smile. I wave as he walks toward the dining room door, but right as the door swings open, he says, “Nice outfit, by the way.”
The door swings shut. I look down at my Pizza Slut shirt and groan.
Chapter Fifteen
One of the reasons I love While You Were Sleeping so much (besides Sandra Bullock being impossibly charming and Bill Pullman being unexpectedly sexy in that reversible jacket Chloe made fun of) is the family. At the beginning of the movie, Sandra Bullock works on holidays because she has no one. She’s as alone as a person can be, which in a rom-com means that she has a cat. But then, through a series of misunderstandings, she ends up pretending to be comatose Peter Gallagher’s girlfriend and goes to a Christmas celebration at his family’s house. It’s big and loud and everyone’s yelling and arguing and she loves it. No longer is she surrounded by only her apartment building’s weird tenants; now she’s part of a family that envelops her and makes her one of their own and gives her a stocking, and that’s why it’s so hard for her to tell them the truth . . . that she’s not really Peter Gallagher’s girlfriend.
Of course, things work themselves out because his brother, Bill Pullman, proposes to her with the entire family in tow and it’s very sweet and I always cry, but the point is, I get it.
It’s not that I’m alone. I have Uncle Don, and he counts for a whole lot. I have the best friend ever in Chloe, and I have the warm, caffeinated comfort of hanging out at Nick’s and the way his wacky patrons make me feel like I’m part of a sitcom.
But right now, when Uncle Don’s getting ready to leave for the convention and Chloe’s busy studying at her place and I know the house will be silent and lonely all weekend, I yearn for that big family in While You Were Sleeping.
I wish I could meet my Tom Hanks now and we could have five kids, enough people that we would never be lonely. And maybe that’s pathetic. Maybe I should only care about my career—but the thing is, I want a family. I want love, and I don’t think it makes me a weak or bad person to not want to be alone. You know how, in wedding vows and engagement-party speeches, people say that their partner is their “other half,” and we all either swoon or roll our eyes? Yes, it’s