by Dahlia Adler
Bri grins. “She’s actually been a little…different since we got together, but something tells me it won’t be quite as dramatic as suddenly learning how to cook. Maybe let’s see how this dinner goes first.”
“Deal.”
She lowers herself for another kiss, which quickly escalates until the rug is littered with discarded clothing and we’re both panting for air. “Have I mentioned how happy I am that you got your own place, by the way?”
“Only about a hundred thousand times.” I slide my hand through hers, admiring the way the different shades of our skin look intertwined. “May not be exactly how I planned for it to go down, but that seems to be the theme of the past six months, doesn’t it? Can’t really complain about how things have turned out…yet.”
“Good.” She brings our hands to her mouth and nips my index finger’s middle knuckle. “See? Going off script isn’t always a bad thing.”
“Was that seriously a Hollywood pun, Brianna Harris?”
She laughs. “Yes. God, sue me. I’m the worst.”
“Nah,” I say with a grin, kissing her again. “You’re not so bad.”
Besides, I can’t really blame her when I can’t stop thinking that I got my Hollywood ending.
Epilogue - Three Months Later
Josh
The view from my villa in Santorini is predictably beautiful—it’ll make a great background for Pensive Josh, or maybe Playful Josh, or whatever the hell Chuck decides he wants from me today. I don’t even care anymore. There’s a traditional Greek breakfast spread out in front of me—including baklava with extra pistachios because the owner’s daughter, Zoe, thinks it’s the way to my heart—and the Aegean’s sparkling like it’s been outfitted by Jacob the Jeweler. After running out of my own cash about a week into Tokyo, I’ll take what I can get.
It isn’t so bad now that we’re thousands of miles from Hollywood and things are on my terms—or, at least, the terms Holly set out after learning the more me-centric episodes of our stupid reality show actually tested pretty well. I’m pretty sure she’s gonna drop me soon, but for now, I do shit on their dime and Holly makes some cash. Everybody wins.
“What are you thinking about?”
I blink away from the sea and glance over at my breakfast companion—a gorgeous Turkish girl named Pelin I picked up inside the Hagia Sofia a couple of weeks ago—but I’m so thrown by a different face staring back at me that I have to think back to how much ouzo I had the night before. But nope, it’s definitely her, smirking at me from the cover of an imported American Cosmo in Pelin’s dainty brown hands.
“Nice going, K-drama,” I murmur, lifting a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice to my lips. She looks good, even in a weird jumpsuit thing unzipped to show a barely necessary bikini top, Vanessa Park is Out, Proud, and Loud! blazing in pink lettering at her shoulder.
“Ne?” Pelin takes a sip of her rancid-smelling Greek coffee, which might as well be mud.
“Nothing.” I take a sip of juice, put down my glass, and get up. “I gotta make a call.”
Pelin just shrugs and returns to her coffee and magazine, and I allow myself a few seconds to appreciate the way her satin robe slides off her bronze shoulder while I pull out my phone. It only occurs to me on the third ring that I have no idea what time it is in California. Hell, after three months of traveling around, I have no idea what time it is in Santorini, either.
I’m about to hang up when she answers. “Hello?”
“Hey, K-drama.”
“Josh.” I’m not sure if I’m imagining the smile in her voice because I want it to be there, but I’ll take it. “Checking to make sure I’m taking good care of your loan? Ronen has been a fabulous security guard, thank you.”
“Damn straight. I hope you two let him watch every once in a while as a reward.”
“I’m gonna ignore that. Where are you?”
“Santorini. It’s fucking gorgeous. Where are you?”
“Bed. It’s pretty glorious too.”
“Alone?”
“Tonight, yes. I’m supposed to be getting my beauty sleep for new headshots tomorrow,” she adds pointedly, though I can tell she’s not mad I called.
“There aren’t enough hours in the night.”
She laughs. “Every time I wonder if maybe I miss you, you remind me how much better off I am with you halfway around the world.”
“Hey, do I not send good souvenirs?”
“Yeah, thanks for that ridiculous pornographic postcard from Bangkok, by the way. I wanted to burn it, and of course Bri hung it on my fridge. I completely forgot about it when my parents came over, so that was a fun hour I spent explaining the unexplainable.”
“Isn’t it nice that I’m facilitating conversation between you and your parents?”
“So nice.”
The sun is beating down, and I duck into the shade. “Well, I just saw you on the cover of Cosmo, so I guess things aren’t going too bad over there.”
“Not too bad,” she agrees. “Not too great, either. Shockingly, no one’s banging down my door to star in their hetero rom-coms. But things are going well with Daylight. They’re even thinking of writing Bailey as bi and giving me a female love interest next season. Which is massively on the DL, obviously, and still totally up in the air.”
“So what are you doing this summer?”
“College, if you can believe it,” she says with a snort. “My parents said if I didn’t line up a movie, I had to sign up for summer session.”
“And you agreed?”
“Let’s just say I’m doing all the parent-pleasing I can these days. The whole girlfriend thing’s been kind of a huge shock, and they’re really trying to be cool with it. So I’m meeting them as halfway as I can. Besides,” she adds, “Bri’s gonna take some classes, too, so hopefully that’ll make it suck a whole lot less.”
“Ah, Bri. So how’s lesbian sex? As good as I’ve imagined?”
“It’s pretty damn good. How’s anonymous sex with foreign strangers?”
“’Bout the same as it was five years ago.” I glance over at Pelin, who’s put her feet up in my chair. I hadn’t really planned to hook up with the same person for this long, but Chuck seems to like the idea that I’ve “found love on the quest to find myself” or whatever. Truth is, it’s been kinda nice, but I won’t be sharing that bit of info with K-drama.
“Where are you off to next?”
“Ally didn’t tell you?” I tap my fingers on the white railing next to me and look out at the glittering sea. “I’m meeting up with her and Liam in Rome for a couple of days during her spring break.”
“Ohhhh right. I forgot that was coming up next week. I still can’t believe they’re letting you tag along with them. And I can’t believe you want to.”
The truth is, I miss Liam. And I miss Ally. And I even miss K-drama a little bit. But again, I have no plans to share any of that. “I’m surprised you’re not coming,” I say instead. “I thought you got off on third-wheeling with those two.”
“Thanks, but I’m good with my own wheel,” she says. “Although, now that you mention it, a couple of days in Rome would be nice…”
She’s so predictable. “You’re going to book tickets the second you get off the phone with me, aren’t you?”
“Of course not,” she says huffily. “I wouldn’t tag along without asking Ally first.”
As if Ally would ever turn down a chance to spend a couple of days with Van. “Guess I’ll be seeing you and Bri next week.”
“You might be,” she concedes, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “I still can’t believe you ended up on a reality show after all that. You’re such a tool.”
“You’re just jealous because you wish you were this close to the Isle of Lesbos right now.”
“God, you really are the worst.” She’s quiet for a beat, then says, “Do you think all this stuff is worth it? Just, like…everything?”
“Thinking of ditching it all to become the bra
in your parents so desperately wish you were?”
“Ha ha. And no. I’m just curious, I guess.”
“I think—” I hear someone call my name and see that the camera guy is trying to get my attention to come back for filming. “I think it doesn’t really matter,” I tell her. “I think once you start, you just have to learn how to keep going.”
“That sounds about right. Or, at least, for as long as they’ll let you keep going, anyway.”
“Well, yeah, there’s that.”
“Have fun in Greece and try not to spread too many diseases to the natives, will you?”
“I’ll see you next week, you BFF-co-dependent drama queen.”
She laughs and says goodbye, and then she’s gone.
I head back to where Pelin’s sitting with our breakfast, the sun shining on her perfect, camera-ready skin. “Let’s get this party started. I need to get into that baklava already.” I offer myself to be mic’d up, then take my seat back at the table. “Lights, camera”—Pelin smiles at me before taking a tiny bite, then licking the honey off her lips—“and my personal favorite: action.”
Acknowledgments
Sometimes it’s hard to remember when and how a book began. In this case, there’s no forgetting the text message from Patricia Riley that said, “What if that imaginary Josh sequel wasn’t so imaginary?” Thank you, Patricia—my editor and friend—for setting this story free and loving every turn it took along the way. (Except Liam. I’m sorry about Liam. I swear, that never happened.)
Huge thanks to Lauren Meinhardt for setting the course of this book by asking for Vanessa’s story. I had no idea then who she was or that she’d completely own this book once I figured her out, but it’s been my favorite writing journey thus far, and I’m endlessly grateful for that challenge and all your editorial guidance and support.
To Maggie Hall—I don’t even know how to begin. I don’t think I ever would have finished this book with my sanity intact if you had not been with me every step of the way. And then, after everything you did for both the story and for me, you went ahead and made the most perfect, beautiful cover I could ever have imagined. Thank you, for everything.
Endless gratitude to my critique partners, Gina Ciocca, Marieke Nijkamp, and the aforementioned Maggie Hall, for figuring out all the ways this story was broken and helping me glue the right parts together. I’m forever awed by your skills at saving what I think is hopeless, and so in love with how far we’ve all come together. Best year ever? Best year ever.
Huge thanks to Lyla N. Lee and Audrey Coulthurst for incredibly helpful, insightful, and encouraging early reads, and to Christina Franke, for brainstorming me out of a tough spot and being generally fabulous. Thank you to my wonderful line and copy editors—Asja K. Parrish, Sarah Henning, and Becca Weston—for helping make my twisted little book as coherent as possible; Jenny Perinovic, for the lovely internal design; and to my kind, patient, wonderful publicist, Patrice Caldwell, for all her hard work.
Much love and gratitude to all my wonderful author friends who are there for the millions of non-writing parts of the process. Lindsay Smith, my amazing accountabilibuddy—I don’t know what I’d do without you (drink less?) and I never want to find out. Thank you for always pushing me to my limits and beyond. Sara Taylor Woods, Katie Locke, Emily Henry, Paula Garner, Ami Allen-Vath, and Candice Montgomery—handsy hugs to you all for ensuring I always had both the proper subtext-y inspiration and people to crack me up or hold my hand when I needed it most. Love to my wonderful pub-sisters, especially Kelsey Macke, Megan Whitmer, and Michelle Smith, for kindness, companionship, and inspiration. Thank you, Leah Raeder, for much-needed pep talks and instilling in me the determination to nail the whole shebang, and the YA Misfits, OneFour KidLit, and the Binders (especially my amazing, beloved co-mods) for guidance and commiseration. Finally, heaps of appreciation to the incredible bloggers who supported both this book and Behind the Scenes.
To my family—whether Adler, Fisch, or Croog—thank you for unflagging love and support. Very special thanks to Eyal, for helping me out with some tough LA research questions, and to Julia, for being my biggest fan even though your mom won’t let you read my books until you’re sixteen.
Yoni—you are above and beyond the love interests of stories, even the ones whose abs have their own fan clubs. You are more than I knew a partner could be. Thank you for being by my side through everything, always.
This book is for those who love fearlessly, and those still trying to. Thank you for being exactly who you are.
About the Author
Dahlia Adler is an Associate Editor of Mathematics by day, a Copy Editor by night, and a YA author and blogger at every spare moment in between. She lives in New York City with her husband and their overstuffed bookshelves.
