clothes lining the floor as thick as carpet, disguising the linoleum floor; stacks of used, frayed, over-highlighted books hidden in the rubble like booby-traps waiting on us to stub our toes on. The closet, all the while, was clean, stripped bare of its proper possessions.
“I’m sure you’ll be happy to have me out of your hair and the room to yourself for a while.”
Usually she would have been right, but her impending departure loomed over me like a dark storm cloud. For the first time, in a very long time, I didn’t want to be alone. The holidays had never felt so large, so heavy, so unmanageable before.
I did have another option. Cam had sent me a plane ticket home and a pass to the Hollywood premier of The Girl in the Yellow Dress. It was one of the four invitations to the premier I’d received. I hadn’t been terribly surprised by the predictably courteous one from the studio, or the one from Madeline, but Georgia’s kind, hand-written invitation had been a little out of the blue.
I kept them all in a neat pile on the right side of my underwear drawer. Sometimes, I’d forget they were there, and I’d just stand there, staring at my opportunity to escape the North Carolina weather and my loneliness. I couldn’t do it though; I couldn’t see him.
In the few weeks since I’d seen Madeline, Fran, and Alfred, the rumors had turned from a possible relationship brewing between the movie’s leads, to sparks flying with his dialogue coach. I remembered Fran mentioning he liked giving her a hard time. The situation seemed all too familiar. He’d liked teasing me in the beginning, too.
Maybe, I’d been right about his affections all along.
“Um, why do you have the first chapter of The Girl in the Yellow Dress sealed in an envelope?” Hannah poked her head up from a messy pile. She held the thick stack of folded papers in her hands. The envelope laid discarded, torn open, on the floor beside her, and I could still make out the smudged ‘Just read it’ scrawled on the top.
“Wait, you’ve read the book?” My mind tripped over the revelation.
“Duh,” she said, rolling both her eyes and a strand of curly blonde hair. “Who hasn’t?”
“You’ve just never said anything,” I stuttered, baffled by her blasé attitude. Most people aware they were sharing a roof with someone who’d had an international bestseller written about them might be inclined to mention it. Hannah had never given a single indication she’d known anything about my past.
Her vacant stare settled on me blankly. “Why would I tell you that I’d read some book? Are you like in a book club or something?”
My eyes widened. She couldn’t be serious, could she? I studied her a minute longer. Yep, she was dead serious. Hannah didn’t have a clue that I had anything to do with the book. If I wasn’t so happy to avoid having to fill her in, I would have been offended for blondes everywhere, including myself.
I shook my head, trying to clear it of any air-headedness that might be floating about, contagious, and fought my way back to the original point of the conversation.
She stood, shaking off debris, and came towards me, clutching the papers. My eyes zeroed in on her hands.
Why had Declan sent me pages from Cam’s book?
“Just read it,” his message had instructed. But what could he possibly have to tell me using someone else’s words?
Hannah was carrying a bomb; I was sure of it. That envelope was never supposed to be opened. I was a deer standing frozen in the headlights of their doom.
She stubbed her toe on some unseen obstacle and stumbled the rest of the way to me. Cursing, she thrust the sheets into my unwilling hands, so she could sprawl across my bed, clutching her foot as she howled.
I wanted to drop them – to throw them away. I knew that once I saw Declan’s message hidden in Cam’s words, that I could never un-see it. More than anything, I wanted to hold onto my ignorance, but against my will, my eyes turned to the page, and I read.
To the girl in the yellow dress,
I remember the first time I saw you. You were incomparably beautiful – the perfect nose, perfect smile, perfect pouting, pink lips – but even your perfection could not explain what made you truly exquisite.
I coveted you instantly, in your shining yellow dress –
But you were not mine to keep.
I