quite obviously beautiful, with almond-shaped eyes and long dark hair. But he barely took the time to register that. He was too busy looking at the word sewn onto the pocket of her shirt.
Ellie, he thought, finally pairing a name with the initial. Ellie O’Neill.
She was watching him anxiously, her expression halfway between shock and delight. He nodded at her, then slid over to the display of ice-cream flavors and pretended to be deciding. But what he was really doing was thinking back to a conversation they’d had a few weeks ago, when he’d jokingly sent her one of those e-mails that asks you to answer questions about your favorite things.
There’s no way I’m filling this thing out, she’d replied. You can’t be that desperate to know my favorite ice-cream flavor.
Are you kidding? Graham had said. You’d be surprised how much it says about you.
Let me guess, she’d written. If I say rocky road, it means I’m going through a hard time. If I say vanilla, it means I’m boring…
Something like that, he’d responded. I’m a sherbet guy myself. What does that say about me?
That you’ve got great taste, she’d written back. That’s my favorite too.
He watched now as she moved down along the opposite side of the counter to lean over the glass at him. “Can I help you with anything?” she asked, and he was startled to hear a familiar note in her voice, the same sugary tone used by so many publicists and managers in L.A. He gave her a half smile, but said nothing, and she giggled. Graham’s stomach twisted.
He pointed at the glass. “I’ll have the rainbow sherbet,” he said, venturing a look in her direction, waiting to see if she’d put things together. But she simply nodded and turned to grab a cup, and he realized that it wasn’t enough; of course it wasn’t enough. He tried to think of other ways into the conversation—casually mentioning something else they’d already discussed over e-mail, some other inside joke—but over his shoulder, there was a sharp bang as a photographer got too close to the window with his camera, and Graham realized that maybe this wasn’t the right moment after all.
“You’re going to like it here,” she was saying as she handed over his ice cream. “It’s a great place to spend the summer.”
Her tone was light as air and quite obviously flirty, and Graham had to remind himself that it was unfair to assume she’d be so different from all the other girls. Once she realized who he was—who he really was—then everything would click into place, but until then, it was pointless to be surprised by the way she tossed her hair as she spooned out the ice cream.
“Oh yeah?” he said, placing a ten on the counter and then waving away the change. “Where’s a good place to grab dinner?”
“The Lobster Pot,” she told him, smiling a bit coyly. “It’s my favorite.”
Graham nodded. “Well, in that case,” he said, “would you like to go with me tonight?”
“Me?” she asked, looking at him with genuine surprise. “Really?”
“Really,” he said, smiling his million-dollar smile, the one that in his previous life had never seemed to hold any extraordinary charm, but that now had the curious ability to make hordes of teenage girls go wobbly at the sight of it.
“I’d love to,” she said, her voice an octave too high.
He nodded, and an awkward pause followed. It took him a moment to realize he was supposed to suggest a time. “Should we meet there at nine?”
She looked embarrassed. “I think it might close at nine.”
“Ah,” Graham said. “Seven thirty, then?”
She nodded, then handed over a spoon. It took him a moment to reach for it; the sleepless plane ride must have been catching up to him, because he felt suddenly weary. A spreading disappointment filled his chest, though he wasn’t sure why. This was exactly what he’d wanted. This town, this girl. She was not only cute, but perfectly nice, and apparently eager to go out with him. What more had he hoped for?
He jabbed the spoon into the ice cream, which was already melting, and then lifted his cup in a little salute as she waved good-bye. When he turned around, he was greeted by the dizzying flash of the cameras at the window, and for a brief moment, he closed his eyes. But the lights refused to go away, and all he could see were stars.
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Sent: Sunday, June 9 2013 11:11 AM
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