Falling into Forever (Falling into You) - By Lauren Abrams Page 0,23
I’m just going to tell her to screw it all. I’m planning to keep this little happy buzz, no matter how short its lifespan.
“Hallie, is there anything you happened to conveniently forget to tell me about why you didn’t want to do this deal with FFG studios? Any little piece of incredibly important information that seems like maybe it slipped your mind?”
Damn it.
“Um…”
“I was curious as to why one of my most beloved friends, not to mention my favorite client, was eye-fucking the soon-to-be star and producer of Rage, the little multi-million dollar movie franchise that you and Ben and I have agonized over for the last four years. It was especially disconcerting given the fact that I’ve barely seen you look at anyone, let alone a man, in over a year.”
She’s gaining momentum with every word and there’s no stopping her. She and my mother share that particular trait.
“You know, at first, I thought maybe he was your adolescent crush. Everybody has one. I thought, maybe you were the president of a fan club. Maybe that was your deepest, darkest, little dirty secret. Maybe you made some YouTube videos professing your love for him. Maybe that’s why you were looking at him with starstruck eyes when you’re the last person in the universe with a tendency to be starstruck. So, you know what I did?”
I really do not want to know what she did.
“I dug through the dregs of tabloid archives, thinking maybe I would find a blog post or two from a young and idealistic Hallie Caldwell. ‘Oh, Chris Jensen, he’s so sexy. I want to have ten thousand of his babies.’ Did I find that?”
“My guess is that you probably did not find that.”
“Thanks, smartass. By the way, when did you decide to open your own comedy troupe? The Hallie Caldwell I know doesn’t make jokes. She’s taken a vow of solemnity.”
My foot is still tapping out pop songs in the back of the cab, despite the forthcoming lecture. I can’t help it. Sometimes, sex just really is that good.
“You’re killing my thought train here, Caldwell. Let me tell you what I did find. You can probably imagine my surprise when I used my friend Google to search out all traces of your past. Somewhere, in the depths of the Internet, someone posted a snapshot of a young, idealistic Hallie Caldwell looking up at a young and idealistic Christopher Jensen. But that’s not the crazy part. The crazy part is that she’s looking at him like he is the only person who ever existed, and he’s looking right back at her with the same expression in his own eyes. So, then I told myself, “Eva, this is crazy. Maybe Hallie was a model. Maybe that’s your little dirty secret. Maybe it was a posed picture.’ But then I kept digging. And I found another one. And then another. Jesus, Hallie, you were with him. With Chris Jensen. You were together. You were maybe even in love with him?”
I am so not answering that.
“I did tell you that I didn’t want to do the deal, Eva.”
“I thought you didn’t want to do any deal! I thought you wanted to pretend that you were still the guidance counselor at Two Rivers High, and that your life was still exactly the same as it was two years ago.”
“I did say that there were some other reasons that FFG wasn’t a good choice, Eva, or don’t you remember?”
“Clearly!” She’s indignant, and I can practically see her rolling her eyes. “I wasn’t aware that you and Chris Jensen had history.”
“It was a long time ago. I didn’t even think I would have to see him. After everything I’ve been through in the past year…”
It’s a dirty trick, bringing up Ben, but I’m desperately trying to hold onto the memory of Chris looking at me like no time at all had passed, like we really were kids again, in love and happy and teasing and fighting and making love all morning and day and night. My buzz is drifting away, and I can’t come back down to earth. Not yet.
“I know what you’re been through, Hals. I do.” Her voice is understanding, but there’s an undertone there, one that clearly lets me know that there’s no way she’s letting me get away with my bullshit. “I went through it, too. I loved Ben. Hell, everyone loved Ben. But you and I both know that this has nothing to do with that. Christ, you