Now and Forever

by Susane Colasanti

  I breathe it all in. I tell myself to remember how this feels. Ethan. Me. No one else. Here at the top of the world.

  33

  [13,273,946 FOLLOWERS]

  I really want to talk to Georgia. We haven’t talked in forever. But I already left her a message this morning. She’s still mad at me. I guess we’re officially in a fight. She’s been avoiding me at school, she won’t return my calls, and she won’t respond to my texts.

  This has been the most whirlwind week of my life. Flying out to California with Ethan. The show. Sneaking into his connecting room at night. Having yesterday almost all to ourselves. Ethan has a surprise planned for me tonight.

  And it’s Valentine’s Day.

  When I woke up this morning and snuck back to my room, I found two boxes on my bed. One was big. The other was a shoe box. They were both wrapped in shiny fuchsia paper with red hearts. The big box had a big red bow. I ripped them open to find the most gorgeous dress and shoes with a note from Ethan saying I should wear them tonight. Ethan told me that he had Aixa buy them for me. She already has jewelry set aside for me on loan from Swarovski. I couldn’t believe I’d actually be wearing the pieces she showed me: a beautiful crystal necklace and matching crystal earrings. Which will go perfectly with the crystal-encrusted clutch I’m carrying. It was a gift from Stella McCartney.

  Whatever Ethan has planned, it’s obviously going to be epic. I’ve been picturing the two of us alone in some exclusive restaurant he rented out, having the most romantic dinner ever. Then maybe I’d get to go back to the kitchen and meet the executive chef. He’d reveal his most coveted pastry secrets. I cannot freaking wait to find out where we’re going.

  I take one last look in the mirror before leaving my room. Ethan and I are going down to the lobby together. A limo is waiting to take us to the surprise. My heart races when I think about how good we’ll look together.

  The dress Aixa selected is exquisite. Aixa is always saying how little and cute I am, how she can dress me up in the most adorable outfits that every girl wants. Tonight I’m rocking superhigh heels and a tiny, floaty dress. Aixa says that superhigh heels and tiny, floaty dresses are my signature look. I kind of have to agree. I don’t know how she did it, but she’s managed to make me shine. The Swarovski necklace and earrings are throwing light everywhere. I’m nervous something will happen to them. How do people accessorize like this every day? Aren’t they afraid of ruining such beautiful jewelry?

  I knock on our connecting door.

  “Come in,” Ethan says.

  I swing the door open and step into his room. He turns from the mirror to look at me. His mouth drops open. He just stands there, staring. “You look . . .” He comes over to me. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

  The way Ethan’s looking at me, I can tell he really means it. There are tears in his eyes. Which of course makes me want to burst out crying. But it took me half an hour to get my eyeliner perfect. I blink my tears away.

  People in the lobby start noticing us the second we emerge from the elevator. Ethan keeps looking at me.

  “I can’t take my eyes off you,” he says.

  Melting. In. The lobby.

  The limo ride to our mystery destination is ridiculously fun. We blast the music. It’s wild how quickly I’ve gotten used to limos. Now I expect to have the familiar tricked-out amenities waiting for me every time I ride in one. This ride doesn’t disappoint with its killer sound system, video screen, and tons of snacks and drinks.

  The limo pulls up to a red carpet.

  “Surprise,” Ethan says.

  I look out the window. We’re in front of a movie theater. Throngs of fans are screaming.

  “What . . . why are we here?” I say.

  “This is the surprise. Didn’t you say you wanted to go to a movie premiere in LA?”

  Yeah. But not on Valentine’s Day. Not when all I wanted was a romantic night alone with my boyfriend.

  “Totally.” I force a smile. “You’re awesome. Thank you.”

  “I knew you’d love it.” Ethan gives me a quick kiss. Then he opens the door.

  The screaming gets even louder. Ethan gets out and reaches down for my hand.

  Snapsnapsnap! go the paparazzi’s flashes.

  I’m temporarily blinded after looking directly at an outrageously bright light. A bunch of reporters are filming us. The paparazzi are stacked deep behind the velvet ropes lining the red carpet. I put my hand in Ethan’s, swing one leg out of the limo. My four-inch Manolo makes contact with the ground. I propel myself up.

  Snapsnapsnap!

  We take a few steps onto the red carpet.

  “Ethaaaaan! Ethaaaaaan! Sterling! To your left! Your leeeeeeft!”

  I try to look left so whoever is yelling at me can get their picture. The wall of bursting light in front of us makes it impossible to see much of anything. I’m blinded by a thousand flashes.

  Snapsnapsnap!

  Ethan puts his arm around my waist. I press up against him. We smile and look at the cameras. Fangirls are screaming Ethan’s name from behind barriers across the street. We’re surrounded by hundreds of people trying to capture this moment, trying to take a piece of Ethan away with them.

  Snapsnapsnap!

  Ethan kisses my cheek. He’s looking at me with the same intensity as before. When he couldn’t take his eyes off me. He can’t even tell that I’m disappointed.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says.

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  “Sterling! Hey, Sterling!”

  I could pretend I don’t hear her. I could keep walking from my car to the grocery store. There’s a chance she won’t follow me in.

  “Sterling!”

  My body wants to leap into a sprint. But my mind tells me to be careful. There’s a serious lack of privacy in my life. You never know who’s watching. Who’s filming. Who’s talking.

  I turn around. A girl I recognize from school runs up to me. I think she’s a freshman.

  “Hey!” she pants. “I was shouting your name!”

  Ethan’s fans shout my name a lot these days. They approach me all the time with everything ranging from sweet compliments to wildly inappropriate demands. One girl wanted me to sign her back. Another girl came up to me in the drugstore. She would not stop ranting about how she needed to meet Ethan because she swears they were married in a past life. Then there was the crazy stalker who kept following me around the Notch, insisting that I should give her tickets to Ethan’s Madison Square Garden show because she’s his number one fan. She would not leave me alone. I tried to tell her that I didn’t have any extra tickets. She wasn’t hearing that. When I asked her to please leave me alone, she got angry. She called me a spoiled bitch who didn’t deserve to be with Ethan. It was mad nasty. And those weren’t the only encounters I’ve had with stalker girls. So I’m hesitant about talking to random girls who come up to me.

  “Sorry,” I say. I don’t try making an excuse for not hearing her. They probably heard her three towns over.

  “Have you talked to Ethan lately?” she asks.

  I nod.

  “He’s in the Midwest now, right?”

  I nod again. He’s finishing up the Midwest leg of his tour. Next he has a bunch of shows down south. I don’t know why she’s bothering to ask me where he is. She probably has Ethan’s entire tour schedule memorized.

  “Do you miss him?” she asks.

  “Of course.”

  “But you get to see him sometimes, right?”

  I start walking toward the grocery store. If she wants to walk and talk, that’s cool. Gram and I are cooking dinner at her house. We’re making eggplant parmesan, portobello salad, and garlic bread. We need ingredients.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “I saw a clip of you guys at that premiere in LA. You looked so beautiful!”

  “Thanks.” Photos and videos of us were everywhere right after the Valentine’s Day movie premiere. T
hat was over a month ago. People are still asking me where I got my dress.

  “Where did you get your dress?” she asks.

  “Ethan’s stylist picked it out. She’s amazing.”

  “OMG want. You looked so cute in it.”

  I smile at her. This girl is harmless. She’s obviously nervous talking to me. If she were going to attack me, it would have happened by now.

  We get to the front doors. “Are you going in?” I ask.

  “No, we were just leaving. I told my mom to wait.”

  “It was good talking to you.”

  “You, too! Say hi to Ethan for me!”

  Even though she was sweet, I’m relieved to go into the grocery store alone. People tend to enjoy scrutinizing what I buy. Which is hilarious. Why is what I eat remotely interesting? Anyway, it was refreshing to meet a sincere fan who just wanted to connect with me without asking for anything.

  At home, I unpack the groceries. I separate the things I’m bringing to Gram’s house. Then I check Ethan’s fan page. Tons of new comments on our Valentine’s Day pics are still coming in. Lots of people said how pretty I looked. Reading those comments made me feel like less of an impostor. Some of the girls made fan art from our pictures. They added watercolor frames, flowers and hearts, and text like ETHAN + STERLING = TLF. Maybe I should relax more when fans approach me. Most of Ethan’s fans really are sweethearts.

  I go to the most recent comments on the red carpet video Ethan posted. A new comment has been flagged as spam. I open it.

  Sterling is a nasty bitch. She makes fun of Ethan’s fans behind their backs. A source was bowling one night when Sterling and Ethan were there. Sterling was making fun of a girl who got a picture with Ethan. Right in front of her and everything. Who does that? Ethan’s fans have been nothing but respectful of his girlfriend out of respect for Ethan. We’re supportive of their relationship. We could be a lot worse to her. This is how she thanks us? Nasty. BITCH.

  Shock hits me like lightning. I would never make fun of Ethan’s fans. That someone would even believe this about me makes me sick. As if the comment wasn’t heinous enough, it doesn’t have any typos. The person who wrote it seems relatively intelligent.

  This sucks. I can’t defend myself at all. If I comment back saying I never made fun of anyone, it would look like I’m trying to cover something up. The comment can’t be deleted yet, either. I could leave a message asking Ethan to have his online guy delete it. But it would take a while for Ethan to pass along the request. He’s rehearsing for his show tonight. Even if I get the comment deleted, the girl who wrote it could retaliate harder with something much worse.

  Why would someone write that about me? Where does an evil comment like that even come from? I think back to the last time Ethan and I were at Cosmic Bowling. I remember the girl who came up to Ethan. I remember taking their picture. I didn’t even say anything to her. Why would some “source” say I made fun of her? How could anyone think I’m so mean?

  Then I remember what happened after the girl left. When I was pretending to be an obsessed fangirl. When I was goofing off, begging Ethan for a picture. Someone could have seen me and thought I was making fun of that girl. They obviously missed the part where Ethan took a picture of us.

  The same picture I have taped to my mirror. The one where I was deluding myself that we could still do normal things, like go bowling.

  I examine the picture on my mirror. We look happy in it. That was a really fun night. But now the memory of that night is ruined forever.

  I take the picture down. I bury it in my underwear drawer.

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  That horrible comment about how I make fun of Ethan’s fans has sparked outrage. It’s like every girl who has a problem with me has busted out of hiding in the past two weeks to spew her venom on the world.

  “Did you see this one?” I ask Ethan from where I’m stationed on his bed. Reading comments on his fan page. Which I really need to stop doing.

  Ethan doesn’t look up from his computer. He’s been glued to his desk chair all afternoon. He’s home for a couple days before his Philly and New York shows. I’m going to both of them.

  “Which one?” he asks.

  “‘My cousin lives in Far Hills. He tried those stupid cookies Sterling sells. They made him retch.’”

  Ethan doesn’t say anything.

  “Or how about this one: ‘If Sterling new’—N-E-W—‘what was good for her, shed’—not ‘she’d’—let Ethan go. Does she really think hez’—H-E-Z—‘going to keep a GF who disses his fans?’”

  “Not everyone is the typo police,” Ethan mumbles.

  “What?”

  He twists around in his chair to look at me. “So a few comments aren’t perfect. Who cares?”

  “When half the comments are attacking me? I care.”

  “There aren’t that many about you.”

  “Have you seen these? Your fans think I’m talking trash about them. Which has devolved into a pile of other lies about me sending them threatening hate texts. I can’t believe anyone is stupid enough to believe that. How does that even make sense?”

  “They’re just rumors,” Ethan says. “It will all blow over.”

  “Unless it doesn’t.”

  “Why are you so bent out of shape? It’s not like you to care what other people think. Especially when what they think isn’t even true.”

  “I hate that people think I’d do or say anything mean. Listen to this one. ‘I heard S takes pictures of fans at E’s shows and talks smack about them after.’ Where are they getting this stuff?”

  “It’s not like you’re telling them they’re wrong.”

  “You know I can’t do that. But you could.”

  “Zeke says it’s better to stay out of it.”

  “Do you seriously think it’s better to let your fans harass me? All I can do is sit back and watch these skanky fangirls crucify me and it’s supposed to be okay?”

  Ethan bristles. “Without my fans, I’d be nothing. Why do you always have to attack them? Why can’t you be more supportive?”

  “After the way they’ve been treating me?”

  “They who? Three people?”

  “It’s more than three people!”

  “No, it just seems that way because you’re obsessed with the negative comments. If I cared about all the negative comments I got, I’d hide under a rock and never come out. You have to brush the haters off.”

  “It’s hard to brush the haters off when they’re basically forming a club to break us up.”

  “They would never do that. They respect that we’re together.”

  “You don’t think these girls would love to hear we broke up?”

  “No.”

  “Ethan. Every single one of them wants to get with you. If I were out of the picture, they’d feel like they had a chance.”

  “You make them sound so superficial. Did it ever occur to you that some of them are actually into my music?”

  “A lot of people are into your music. You’re the only hot artist whose fans range from third graders to grandmas. But a lot of these teen girls are in love with you.”

  “Which is a bad thing because . . . ?”

  “They’re irrational. They don’t want you to have a girlfriend. They want the possibility of you being their boyfriend. These girls would do anything to be with you. Even if it means tormenting me to get us to break up.”

  Ethan comes over and leans against the pillows next to me. “That will never happen,” he assures me.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I love you. I want to be with you. You want to be with me, right?”

  “Of course. But it’s not that simple.”

  “Yeah it is. You were there for me from the start. You loved me before anyone knew who I was. That’s how I know you love me for me. That proves how loyal you are to me. How much more simple could it be?”

  Ethan puts his arm around me, pullin
g me close. I press my cheek against his chest. His shirt is soft. I breathe in the summertime scent of the fabric softener his mom uses.

  “We can be together forever,” he says.

  I want to believe him. I want to believe that what we have will never change. Now and forever.

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  “Ethan! I love you, Ethaaaan!” Girl yelling.

  “Take it off!” Someone’s mom yelling.

  “Go one-on-one with me, Ethan!” Boy yelling.

  The yelling is directed at tall gates separating a throng of fans from a private parking lot. The parking lot gives performers and staff access to the venue where Ethan has his Philly show tonight. There are a few cracks in the gate where fans are trying to peek in and yell things at Ethan, who is playing basketball with the band. The basketball hoop Ethan travels with has been set up outside his tour bus.

  When the guys first started playing, I was watching them from their side of the gate. Then the gate slowly swung open to let a truck leave. Ethan and the band shooting hoops were revealed. Some fans who were walking from one of the parking lots saw Ethan. They started screaming. Security stopped them from running in. The truck left and the gate swung closed again. Naturally the fans who saw Ethan stayed to freak out. More people coming in from the parking lot caught on to what was happening. Now there’s a huge crowd. I went out through a back gate to the public parking lots and came around to the crowd’s side. No one’s noticing me in my huge sunglasses beyond the edge of the crowd.

  “Ethan! I love you, Ethaaaan!”

  One of the fans nearest to the gate catches a glimpse of Ethan bouncing his basketball close to her. She freaks out. “Oh my god he’s right there! He’s right there!”

  A scary security guard is keeping fans a few feet from the gate. There’s a green line painted on the pavement. She keeps reminding everyone to stay behind the green line.

  A girl in the back of the crowd digs her way to the front. She scrutinizes the scary security guard. When the security guard is looking the other way, the girl takes a tentative step over the green line. Scary Security Guard is on the girl in a flash.