Page 72 of This Changes Everything

On long, hard days, we reviewed actors’ taped auditions alphabetically. If your last name was at the start of the alphabet, you had a much better chance of getting the part. Sal would scroll down the list, click on a few other names and tapes, and add them to the short list we would send to producers. But it was random. “It’s fine. If they weren’t good, they wouldn’t have made it far enough to get their tapes in front of me,” he would assure me. “There are only so many ways someone can say two lines in a throwaway scene,” he promised. Sal also set timers for his emails to be sent to executives, giving the illusion that he was working all hours of the night, when I knew he wasn’t, because I was. The “dream” was slowly dismantling, and I could feel New York me flaking into the air and slowly disappearing right along with it.

Ben squeezed my hand under the table.

“I know you’re proud of me.” I shook my head, disappointed with myself. “I’m sorry.”

Blair and Orson looked at each other. They were having a separate telepathic conversation.

“Sorry if I brought the mood down, everyone,” I said shyly.

“All good, sissy,” Hannah insisted. She turned to address the table. “Ellie’s also been writing. She’s got a play that’s being produced and everything,” she boasted.

“No, I don’t,” I corrected my well-meaning sister. “I have a play that’s going to have a staged reading with actors, Ben being one of them, but it’s not being turned into anything.”

“I didn’t know you wrote plays,” Blair mused.

“It’s a showcase with a small audience. It’s nothing.” I downplayed my writing, as always.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.” Jacob smiled.

“Because it’s not nothing,” Ben defended me against myself.

Blair’s phone, which was face up on the table, lit with a notification. It was a text from Rory, but I couldn’t read what it said. He lifted his phone and typed back. Orson leaned over to read the conversation, then nodded before returning to his seat.

“Sounds cool, Cains. Very New York.” Blair smiled as he put his phone back on the table, face down. “I can see why you don’t want to give it up.” He nodded to Ben, unintentionally picking at our scab.

“What are you guys up to for the rest of your trip?” Kara asked.

“Not much. Just hanging out. Walks. Dinners. That sort of thing,” I said, looking at Ben.

“You going to Juniper at any point?” Orson asked.

“No.” I shook my head.

“You should come back, Hollywood. It would be fun to see you up there again.” He smiled softly.

“Sometimes you can’t go back. It’ll never be what it was. And experiencing that with the same people, but without the magic . . . it would break my heart.”

“Well, you’re missed up there,” Blair said quietly, and I had a sneaking suspicion he was saying one thing but talking about something else entirely.

I nodded, then turned to Ben. “Shall we?”

Ben brought my face toward his and kissed me. He softly slipped his tongue against mine. I knew what he was doing. He wanted everyone to see him kiss me. He wanted to subtly and gracefully acknowledge the underlying conversation that had gone unsaid all evening. I knew it. Ben knew it. Hannah, Kara, and Jacob knew it. They had all seen Ben and me love each other deeply for three years. But Ben kissed me right there at the table because he wanted to leave a lasting impression. He wanted Blair and Orson to understand that I’d chosen him. Not Rory.

Hannah, Kara, Jacob, Blair, and Orson got up from the table, leaving Ben and me alone. He opened his eyes and stared into mine. “Let’s do it. Let’s go to LA.”

“Really?” I whispered, hopeful, pushing away reality. “Are you sure?”

Ben nodded. “I want to. I do. I really want to.”

He kissed me again, and that’s when I felt it. For one brief second, for just a flash, for one skipped beat of his heart, something happened for the very first time. Maybe it was only to himself, but Ben was lying.

Chapter 27

NEW YORK 25 years old

I WAS TRYING NOT TO WATCH RORY ON THE SMALL TV BEHIND Ben’s head, but it’s hard to turn away when you’re watching the dreams of someone you used to know coming true. Ben and I were at Lifers, drinking wine and having appetizers. Ben was flipping through a script, memorizing lines for an audition the next day, and Rory was playing at Pebble Beach. Rory was in California.

The camera kept coming back to him. He adjusted his black Titleist hat as he stood next to his caddie and laughed. He was waiting for the other guy he was playing with to tee off, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. The feeling that had overcome me was almost indescribable. I was so happy for him. I was so proud of him. And at the same time, I was utterly and totally gutted that I was missing it. I wasn’t there. For a large part of my life, I had known every thought that crossed Rory’s mind. And I didn’t know him anymore. A wave of grief rolled through me as I watched him laugh. I didn’t know what made him laugh anymore. It used to be me.