#fakeituntilyoumakeitphff

I scorned. “Mom, come on”

“I know what you’re gonna say, but I’m not crazy, Jenifer. All of them are saying you’re pregnant! All of the websites and magazines! Even in the news!”

“Mom…”, I started, trying to breathe in patience, “It’s just a rumor”

“But when it’s just a rumor didn’t you say it usually just stays in one tabloid? All of them, Jenifer! They’re all saying it!”

“Mother. I am not pregnant”. Eddy and the waiter raised their eyes to look at me. I shrugged. “I want the carbonara!”, I whispered to the waiter so mom wouldn’t hear.

“Oh, honey!”, she said, afflict. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, mom. I think I’d know if I was pregnant”

“You’re sure because it’s impossible, right? For you to be pregnant”

I looked at the waiter, still waiting to hear my choice of drinks. “I’m sure”

“You’re sure, because you’re not having sex, right?”

I paused, my eyes widened, thinking of how to get out of that question. “I’m not pregnant”

“Jenifer!”, she shouted, realizing what I meant.

I blocked the microphone on the phone so my mother wouldn’t hear me and looked at the waiter as if he held my life in his hands. “Bring me scotch; I am too sober for this conversation”

It was a Friday night in Venice and I was wearing a pink, off-shoulder gown after attending the Clooney-Alamuddin rehearsal dinner. After bidding goodnight to my friends from the cast of Bloodline, who decided to go have drinks at some bar nearby, I decided I was too hungry and tired and came back to the hotel for actual food and as early a bedtime as I could get myself into.

It had been about forty-eight hours since Harry’s birthday party – and since I had given him his ‘birthday gift’ – and I hadn’t managed to think of much else since. It kept coming back to me, the way his forehead touched mine as he said the words – ‘kiss me’, a request I was all-too happy to attend. The taste of his lips on mine, the touch of his hand on my neck, keeping us close, unbreakable in a kiss so desperate as if it was the last we could ever get. In many ways, maybe that was true.

We both knew he had to go back to his party, and I had to get on a plane to literally fly back to all the reasons we couldn’t really be together. Maybe that’s why we didn’t let each other go.

We kissed and kissed and kissed for so long at some point I wondered if we were gonna do anything else… if I could pull him to his bed… if we could get away with it. Short answer: we couldn’t. Not long after that thought – and after I had my arm over his back, under his jacket – there was another knock on the door.

“Harry?”, William’s familiar voice reached us. “Are you here still? We need to get Ellie singing, you should be there for it”

We broke apart suddenly, even though he hadn’t opened the door – maybe even William wondered if there was anything else happening inside.

“I’ll be there in a minute”, Harry said, after clearing his throat. I raised my hand to his face, to swipe the red lipstick stain in his lips. He held my hand in place, and looked at me.

Remembering the mistakes I had made in the past, I thought a clarification was needed.

“It was just your birthday wish”, I said, maybe more to myself than to him. “Between friends… It didn’t mean anything”

As his thumb caressed my hand in his face, he gave me a sad smile. “It didn’t mean anything”, he agreed.

The door opened, I retrieved my arm and he finished cleaning the lipstick in his lips.

“People are getting impatient”, William was saying as he walked in. “Oh”, he stopped, abruptly, politely looking at me pretending he didn’t know I was there. I smiled.

“Jenifer, how nice to see you again. I heard you had arrived”

“It’s good to see you too”, I said, walking away from Harry, acting as if the last ten minutes hadn’t happened. “And congratulations on the second baby!”

He smiled. “Thank you, thank you. We’re very happy. Well, Kate is not as happy right now. But she’ll be, as soon as the nausea goes away”

I giggled. “Make sure to tell her I send my best”

“I will!”, he said. “Let’s get downstairs, we need to get Ellie singing”

“And I should go”, I said, as I followed William back to the hallway, leaving the room.

“Already?”, he asked.

“I have an early flight”, I explained. “I really just came to say happy birthday and to, uhm-“, I looked at his brother, “give Harry his birthday gift”. Harry grinned as we made our way downstairs.

“Well, that’s a pity”, William added, at the top of the stairs.

“I’ll walk Jen out”, Harry said, “and meet you back in there”

“Harry, come on”, his brother answered. “We’re late. What about this? I’ll walk Jenifer out, and you go introduce Ellie”

Harry seemed to hate the idea, but I hated the awkwardness more.

“I’m sure I can walk myself out”, I said, smiling, as we reached the first floor. “Really, I think I won’t get lost”, I giggled. Harry scratched the back of his head. “It’s fine, you have guests. Go ahead”

“Well, that’s solved then”, William said. “Jenifer, it was lovely to see you again”

“And you”, I told him, before looking over at his brother who gave me a long look. “Harry”, I said, finally, as Harry didn’t seem to know how to get us another second alone. “Happy birthday”

He smiled. “Have-have a… Have a safe flight”, he stuttered.

I nodded, before going straight to the end of the hallway I had walked in by.

Twelve hours later, I was already in Italy, and a day after that I was sitting in the restaurant getting the talk from my mother… at 24 years old.

“Oh, Jenny”, mom went on, sounding upset, “…are you having sex?”, she asked, in a whisper, as if the mere question was already a sin.

“Mom”, I started, gentle, taking in a deep breath, “I am a grown woman-”

“Oh, Jesus, honey… was it Trevor?”

“Mom, I told you. I broke up with him months ago”

“Then was it this Chris-fellow? Blue eyes? Was it him? We don’t even know him!”

“No, mom, I work with him. That’s it! We’ve been over this, remember? I don’t sleep with every guy I work with”

Although, let’s face it. Chris Pine? I wish.

“Who do they think you’re pregnant of, then?”

“I’m not pregnant!”, I whispered, exasperated.

“Was it Harry?”, she asked, “Was he your first?”

I was definitely too sober for that conversation, but thankfully that’s when the waiter came back with our drinks.

“Mom, although I would love nothing more than to talk to you about my sex life, I think we can both agree none of us is ready for that”, I said. “So why don’t we just state, for the record, that I am being careful and not doing anything I don’t absolutely want to do and leave it at that?”

I heard her sigh. “Honey…”

It was a while before she was satisfied that I understood that ‘my body is a temple’ and ‘I need to respect it so guys will respect me!’ because ‘I don’t want to end up like my cousin!’. When I finally hanged up, my carbonara was cold and Eddy was already repeating having desert.

“That lasted a while”

I sighed, and started eating, trying to bury deep in the pit of my stomach the feeling that I was failing again. I googled myself on my phone as I ate, realizing mom was right: all the big news sites had headlines about my pregnancy.

‘Chris Pine and Jenifer Silva expecting first child together!’, ‘Jenifer Silva pregnant! The actress was spotted with baby-daddy Chris Pine in Venice for the Clooney-Alamuddin wedding’, ‘Sources close to the couple confirm Jenifer Silva and Chris Pine baby is really happening!’, ‘Get the scoop: Jenifer Silva wants her baby to be born in Brazil, a friend confirms!’

I blocked the screen, dropping the phone on the table and pressing my temples with my palms closing my eyes trying to calm down. As I tried to remember what could have given anyone the impression Chris and I were together – let alone having a child! – I lost my appetite.

The crew from Bloodline had arrived just that morning. Along with my old time friend Emily Blunt and her husband John, I went for lunch, where we ran into Chris and invited him to sit with us – the wedding quickly gained the get-together feeling I usually felt in award ceremonies, where I got to see friends I usually only saw at events like that.

As I got back into my room after dinner with Eddy, I had realized two things: the first, Harry was already at his wedding, across the country from me, in Puglia. I saw all the pictures as I read about my baby. He looked nice. The second thing: if you go out with a married couple and another friend of the opposite sex, chances are people will assume you’re in a double date. And that, I guesses, was how suddenly I was supposedly dating Chris Pine. Which worked out great for the media, because they had been looking for a reason why I had broken up with Trevor, and so they just picked that. Chris broke up Trevor and me – and from that to a surprise pregnancy is really just a stretch in tabloid-world.

Still in my party dress I laid in my bed staring at the ceiling, and thought about Harry in his dark gray suit and tie-less white button down shirt in Puglia. He was wearing the wayfarer sunglasses I had given him last year when I was giving him a makeover and I smiled at the memory.

Sighing, I could feel myself wanting to think about the last words that he had told me in Clarence House at his birthday two days before, but I wasn’t sure that was a good idea. I knew it would hurt, and there was already too many things hurting at that point: the senseless fake rumors, my mother’s disappointment, my fifteen hours of work a day for the movie, the burning desire to see the world and relax. I just wanted a pause. I just wanted the world to stop for one minute so I could breathe.

My phone vibrated as I got a text, it was from Tyler. Ever since Phonegate, as I was calling the leaked information from when my phone was stolen last year, things between us had amazingly gotten better. We weren’t best friends again, like we had been, but at least we texted eventually instead of ignoring each other’s existence.

‘You know’, his text read. ‘I always just assumed if you wouldn’t have my babies it would have been Harry’s... But Christ pine? Talk about plot twist! LOL’

I started laughing out loud, unsure if I was happier about his joke or about the fact that we were able to laugh about this. About the fact that this proved we were friends again, that we were okay.

I texted him back, thanking him for the only joke able to put a smile on my face on that God-forsaken night.

‘You want me to tweet it? It’d be a funny way to deny it!’

I thought about it for maybe half a minute before I told him to do it, deciding laughing about my problems was better than stressing about it. Things turned out better than expected, because Christ replied to Tyler’s tweet in an epic way, and then I just the final blow to make sure everyone knew the rumors were all a lie.

Tyler had written: ‘Always assumed if @JenSilva wouldn’t have my babies it would have at least been Prince Harry, but @ChrisPine? Plot twist! #LOL’

Chris replied: ‘@TylerAAlvin I’m just as surprised as you are #nottrueyouguys #notgonnabeadad’

And then I added: ‘Guys @TylerAAlvin @ChrisPine it’s a food baby #notpregnant #justfat’

I enjoyed the fan reactions for a bit before going to take a shower, and as I fell asleep, I focused on how good it was to have friends when things got too crazy. I focused on this so I didn’t think about Harry, but even in my dreams, I could still see it.

Two days before, I had managed to find my way out of Clarence House rather quickly. I gave the hostess at the door a nervous smile as I asked her to call Eddy and our driver.

“I’ll wait by the car”, I said, making my way out, glad the place had big walls surrounding it so the paparazzi couldn’t see me.

I found our town car, amidst all the others, and leaned into it as I waited. I touched my lips delicately, thinking about the kiss, sighing. ‘Just a birthday gift?’, I thought. ‘I’m so dumb!’.

“Jenifer”, I heard.

I opened my eyes, standing tall on my heels as Harry walked towards me, looking like a dream come true in his tuxedo with his ginger hair pushed back. I could hear Ellie’s sweet voice at a distance.

“That was fast”, I said, softly, nervously.

He looked to the ground, gulping, looking like he was having trouble figuring out how to speak, so I figured I should go first.

“The voice message”, I said, “The one you almost left me in my birthday… What did you say in it?”

He looked up, seemingly distressed, not looking like he was ready to talk about that. But he still didn’t say anything.

“I get it, you don’t want me to know. But, like, it was in April. That’s a long time ago. I get that whatever you said, you most likely don’t feel like that anymore, I’m just curious”

He stared at me, serious, then took a deep breath. “I said I missed you…”, he whispered. “I said you were wrong. I said ‘Plan A’ wasn’t working. I wasn’t forgetting you. I said I still had feelings for you…”, I felt like my heart could burst out of my chest at any minute now. “…then I said happy birthday”, he smiled, sad. There was a pause, and he nodded. “I shouldn’t have invited you”, he whispered, more to himself than to me.

“Wow. Okay.”, I was caught off guard by his words, and, feeling outraged, I turned to the car. “Well, is a good thing you deleted the voice message, because clearly you got over that”

I started walking back to the house, to see what was taking Eddy so long, but his hand held onto my elbow. I pulled out, strongly.

“Jen, wait”, he said.

"What?! What, Harry, what?!", I asked, turning to him suddenly. "How could I have possibly misunderstood the words 'I shouldn't have invited you'?!". His mouth was open, and his eyes hovered the place as no sound came out. "What do you want?! Do you even know?!", I asked. He sighed, looking at me. “Because you’re the one who came to my hotel room in São Paulo, and you’re the one who made me come here, and you’re the one talking about Italy, but you don't want me here, so don’t worry. I’m leaving”. I turned again, but his hand found mine, and he turned me back to him as he took a step closer to stand right before me with no space in between.

"I want you here", he said, breathless. "I want you here, and everywhere, and all the time. I want you all the time”. I blinked, breathing difficultly. He spoke slowly, softly. Intensely looking at me like nothing else really mattered. “When I say I shouldn’t have invited you, what I mean is that this is too hard. With you here, in person, is just too hard to pretend that I am over you”, he broke in a smile. “You told me back in Brazil that now that I’m thirty I am expected to know what I am doing and what I want, and I’ve been trying to. I’ve been trying to be responsible, and to make smart choices. Not just for me, but for my family, and what they expect of me. Get Invictus done, make a decision about my career, find someone I can have a future with. I’m trying to grow up and accept that you don’t want to be with me, because you never really said you did. You never really said you even had feelings for me. So I’m trying to let you go, because I’m tired of being this pathetic creep who keeps telling you about how I feel when all you do is turn me down… but I can’t”

I realized, in a second, that I had never told him I liked him. I never told him how I felt. The one time I did, I had merely said I liked him ‘a little bit’. All I ever said was how we couldn’t be together, so, sadly, I realized it made sense he didn’t know the extent of his effect of me.

“I might not know what I’m doing, but I know what I want”, he took another step closer to me. “I want you”. I felt all the air in the world disappear as I struggled to breathe. “So, here I am, for what feels like the millionth time, telling you that I have feelings for you and I want to be with you, but, Jen… this is the last time. This is the last time I let you know that if you say one world I’ll drop everything in a heartbeat to be with you. After this, I’ll leave you alone. So…”, he took in a deep breath. “If, maybe… you want to be with me”, he smiled, his eyes in a glow as if that possibility was mere wishful thinking. “Then… tell me. Let me know and, I’ll… I’ll find you. Wherever you are, I’ll come find you, and we’ll be together. Without worrying about the future or the plans or what is expected of us. Just… just tell me”. There was a pause. “Because if you don’t… I’ll have to move on. I’ll have to let you go”

He stared at me for another few seconds, before squeezing my hand and letting it go. He gulped, then left.

I stood in place for a while, and that’s still where Eddy found me minutes later, unable to say anything. In automatic pilot mode, I got myself inside the car, and back to the hotel, and into the plane the next morning and into my hotel room in Venice, all while fighting mentally between thinking about Harry and trying not to, knowing that if I did, I’d not be making the responsible choices he talked about.

 The wedding was on Saturday – a black tie affair in a hotel nearby. Although it hadn’t been announced yet, the fact I was now the face of Oscar de la Renta meant I didn’t have to worry about what to wear to high profile events like this: I left London two days before already with the dress for the wedding in my bag: a blue, strapless, mermaid gown. Chris and I had denied the rumors over twitter the night before, but we still went to the ceremony together as we had been going everywhere in Venice, so the media was still taking our denial with a grain of salt.

I was sitting by the bar during the reception following the short ceremony so it was easier to get refills on my apple martini; that’s when George decided to come talk to me. I smiled when he approached, his charming self looking as dashing as always in a tuxedo.

“Hello, beautiful”, he said, before placing a gentle kiss on my cheek. “Why aren’t you sitting with the others?”

“I’m sitting with the alcohol”, I joked, making him laugh.

“So I take it by your choice of drink I shouldn’t congratulate you for the bun on the oven?”

I giggled. “Not today”

He faked disappointment. “Damn, that baby would have been gorgeous”

We paused, smiling for a while. He ordered some wine before turning to face the dance floor, when we took a moment to enjoy the sight of our dancing friends enjoying themselves.

I looked at him, ready to ask what was next for him after the honeymoon, when I was taken by surprise by the sweet look of admiration in his eyes.

“Look at you”, I started. “How long have we known each other? Four years? And I can honestly say that I never thought I’d be on your wedding one day”

He laughed. “I can honestly say that I thought the same”

“How did you do it?”, I asked, hanging on to every bit of wisdom he could toss my way. “With the life that we live, with the craziness, the paparazzi, -9the pressure, the gossip, the rumors… how did you manage?”. George looked at me now, somewhat remembrance in his eyes, maybe recognizing himself in my words. “How do you make it work?”

George sighed deeply, looking at his glass, taking time to figure out an answer. I waited patiently, desperate for someone to tell me what was the right thing to do.

He smiled. “You just…”, then he shrugged, “do it”. Perhaps I made it noticeable in my expression I had expected the kind of tip I could actually use, because he quickly went on. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. It takes a long time to start feeling like you’re doing the right thing. But, Jen…”, he held my hand. “When you love someone, when it comes down to either taking a risk and being with them, or hanging on to your security and being without them… At some point you just gotta jump, you know?”

Amazingly, I knew.

George got up from his stool and gently kissed my cheek before walking off to be with his wife. A few seconds went by as I stared at them, longingly smiling at each other as they slow danced in the middle of the way between the windows and the tables without realizing they were in the way, not even knowing it wasn’t a dance floor. Completely lost into each other, they moved as if the world was just the two of them.

I returned my glass to the bar before getting up on my feet and walking out of the room to the back terrace. It had a view of the sky and the canals underneath and the music from the reception filled the Venetian air as I grabbed my phone from my clutch and gulped before finding in my speed dials the name that made my stomach twist with anticipation.

“Jen?”, Harry’s voice found its way to me after a couple of rings. “Jen? Are you there?”. No matter how much I tried, I could bring myself to talk. “…Jen?”

As I tried to get words out, I realized I didn’t know what to say. “Hi”

“Hi. Jen. Hi”, he said.

I sighed. There was silence. “Are you still in Italy?”

It was only when I asked that I realized his wedding had been in the previous night, and he might have already flown back to London.

“…technically not”, Harry said.

I felt my heart constricted, almost hurting. There was silence again as I didn’t know what to say next.

“Why did you call me, Jen?”

I knew what he meant, he meant why wasn’t I allowing him to let me go.

“I was thinking about you”, I admitted.

“…really?”, his dreamy, soft whisper made my heart ache. I knew the disbelief in his voice, because I recognized it from my own heart whenever he had told me how he felt about me.

I nodded, only later realizing he couldn’t see me. “Yes”, I voiced it. “Honestly, that’s all I’ve been doing lately”

“Really?”

Feeling so exposed, I felt it difficult to breathe.

“There’s an island in the coast of France”, Harry started. I hated myself for taking too long to tell him what I wanted; now he was changing the subject. “Corsica. It’s actually very close to Sardegna, it’s where you’re gonna go next, right?”

“…yeah”

“I had a few days off, I thought I might as well spend them unwinding, relaxing, you know…”

“Yeah”, I wasn’t sure I knew.

“I mean, it’s beautiful. Clear blue water beaches, amazing organic food, and the best part: no paparazzi! They’re all either at the wedding I was attending, and the one you’re attending, and I’m guessing after it’s over they’ll either leave or go to wait to see you in Sardegna, so it’s pretty safe here”

“Sounds amazing”

“I’ve only been here a day and I already love it”

“That’s good”, I said, hoping for the courage to tell him.

“If you’re ever looking for a place to relax and spend a few days, I mean… I’d definitely recommend it”

I stared at the view of Venice almost realizing what he meant.

“You know…”, I started, “I could use clear blue water beaches, amazing food and no paparazzi”

“Really?”

“Yeah…”, I nodded again, the idea taking form. “I do have, you know, three days off until I have to present myself at Sardegna for the movie”

“Mhmm”, he mumbled, interested. “You know… I rented a villa here, there’s a lot of space if you wanna come by…”

He sounded just casual enough for me to know that was an invitation, so I decided that it made no sense to tell him over the phone.

“The wedding is over, I could fly in tomorrow”

“That!- That’d be- That’d be cool…”, his voice regained its usual energy. I couldn’t help but smile.

“You know what?”, I looked back at the party. George and Amal were slow dancing to Fly Me To The Moon, lost in each other’s eyes. I wanted that. “I could probably be there in a few hours. I mean…”, I thought about it, “the movie people got us a private plane, I could use it. The reception is pretty much done, anyway… I could go. More time to relax, right?”

There was silence. I bit my lip, wondering if he’d tell me to let him go again. I realized I hadn’t yet told him. I hadn’t told him he made me feel like my heart had wings and I could fly, or that he made me want to sing and dance around my room like an idiot, that he made me believe love could be easy and simple even though the logic part of my brain knew it’d never be like that with us. He didn’t know, so he’d probably do what he said he had to: make smart choices.

“I’ll text you the address”, he said. I sighed, the smile was nowhere close to leaving me now.

“I’ll be there soon”, I vowed.

“I’ll see you soon, then”. I could hear the smile in his voice, and with one in mine, I said goodbye.

I smiled at Venice like I hadn’t in a long time before turning around fast in my fuchsia heels and walking back into the party in a hurry. I marched into the dance floor with no ceremony and stopped right before the bride and groom, who stopped dancing to look at me..

“I came to say goodbye”, I told them, apologetic.

“Already?”, Amal asked, sweet, letting go of her husband’s hand to hold mine. “It’s too early!”

“Yes, Jenny, act your age and dance the night away with us!”, George asked.

I smiled. “I just… I have something I must do before going back to work, and I thought I should start immediately”

They exchanged a sad look.

“Well, if there’s no convincing you…”, Amal started. “Let me get the photographer. We need one last photo to remember tonight!”

She walked out. George held my hand.

“Are you sure it can’t wait? You’re gonna miss the brunch tomorrow”

I smiled. “You told me just now that sometimes we just gotta jump, do you remember?”, he nodded. “I’m gonna go do that. I’m gonna jump”

“Well, then it can’t wait”, we giggled. “Is it somebody I know?”. I didn’t know how to answer that question. “…I get it”, he nodded, and I smiled, grateful.

“Here”, Amal said, rejoining us.

We held arms, and smiled at the photographer and then I hugged them goodbye.

“It was a beautiful wedding, thank you for having me”

“I’m just sorry to see you go so soon. Thank you for coming!”, she said.

George kissed my forehead. “Go be happy, kid”

With one last smile, I turned around and made my way to the table where my current cast, the one from Bloodline, was sitting. I told them, quickly, that I was leaving, and that I’d see them again in Sardegna. I hugged Chris, who was sitting, from the back, and whispered a request in his ear.

“I know the jet they got us is just supposed to take us around here and to Sardegna…”, I started. “But I need it tonight, it’ll be back for you in the morning. Can you cover for me?”

“Anything for the mother of my child”, he joked. I laughed, then I left.

I found Eddy and we got into a boat. I smiled slightly to the photographers waiting outside, in their own boats, trying to get a glimpse of anyone that could help them sell. I made the call from the boat, asking for the jet to be prepared as fast as possible. They asked for one hour, and so it was set.

“We’re leaving?”, Eddy asked.

I didn’t know how to tell him, so I just smiled. I couldn’t figure out how to stop smiling. It occurred to me, then, just how much I had been missing Harry. The thought of seeing him in just a few hours made me breathless with excitement.

I tried not to focus on it too much, but it was difficult. I kept bursting in a big smile, making Eddy give me weird looks.

“Am I ever gonna know where we’re going?”, he asked again in the elevator. I thought of telling him, but was too suspicious of the other guy in there with us, so I waited until we were in the room, alone.

“We’re going to Corsica”, I said, looking like Vodka as I almost jumped with excitement, running into the walk-in closet to get my bag and to start packing. It’s a good thing I had barely unpacked.

“Corsica?”, he asked, picking up the puppy and gently caressing her as she excitedly danced in his arms, happy to see us again.

“It’s an island. And it’s not far, although it is technically France, not Italy”

“…okay”, he nodded.

I took off my necklace and earrings and put them in the jewelry box. Then I took my shoes off in a hurry and put them in the travel shoe bag. I paused, taking it all to the bag, finally ready to voice it.

“We’re meeting Harry there”, I said. I had my back to Eddy, so I didn’t see his reaction. I turned very slowly to face him, biting my lip.

He was smiling. “Cool”, I waited for him to process what I might have meant, but after teasing me about my ginger ex-boyfriend for so long he seemed to now have found mercy within himself. “So…?”

I sighed. “He told me in London he still has feelings for me”, I said. “And that if I felt the same I should let him know or else he’d have to let me go. But I didn’t say anything. I was just so… wonderstruck. Then I was scared. But I’ve been thinking about him since we’ve been here, and, if I’m being honest, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since…”, I thought about it, the smile taking over my lips again, “God, since he knocked on my door in Manhattan a year and a half ago!”. I sighed, and looked at him, waiting for the judgment.

“So you told him?”, he asked. “That you still have feelings for him too?!”

My smile froze in place. “Well, no”

His smile vanished. “No?!”

“Well… no”, I said. “I couldn’t. Not over the phone! But I will!”, I stood up. “I will, that’s the plan! I’m gonna do it in person”

“That’s why we’re going to Corsica?!”

“Yes!”

He laughed. “Alrighty! Let’s get going then!”

I don’t think I have ever packed as fast as that night. I put on flats, but didn’t take off my dress, and, after we put Vodka on her carrier bag, we took off for the airport, where the jet was all ready for us.

We crossed Italy and some of the Mediterranean and, finally, we landed in a small airport in the island of Corsica. The company that provided us with the plane made sure there was already a car waiting for us when we arrived, which was good since all the car rental places, and everything else, were closed at that hour – we got there at four in the morning.

Corsica is a mountainous island that the old Greeks used to refer to as ‘prettiest of them all’, and even now it was still known as the Island of Beauty and it was the greenest of the Mediterranean sea. It belonged to France since 1769, but for fourteen years before this, it had been briefly independent. Although short, their independence was significant for it had in its constitution the universal vote and separation of state and church, which later was used as example by many countries.

As we got into the car, Eddy drove us through Corsica’s narrow stone streets, hovered on both sides by small, old, brick buildings as we tried to get to the address Harry had given us. We drove off into a bigger street and soon enough we were driving up a seaside hill. Along the road, we saw a few spots for parking and sightseeing and, since the sun was almost coming up, I told Eddy to stop the car.

“Don’t you want to hurry there and go have some lovin’ with-“

“First of all, never say ‘have some lovin’’ again”, I said. “Second, Harry is probably asleep right now. Third, I need to take minute to breathe and think this through”

“No!”, he dramatized, as I got out of the car. “You always ruin things when you think!”

“Excuse me”, I said, spinning to look at him, still in my evening blue gown, “it’ll do you good to remember I’m the reason you have a job”

Eddy giggled, and we stared off into the horizon for a while, where the dark blue was turning into turquoise, and the turquoise met a slim sign of pink as the sun came up. Looking up you could still see the stars as the dark blue of the night sky vanished and when I breathed it in deep, I smelled a mixture of salt water from the sea and the lavender we could see growing around. The other thing I already loved about Corsica: we were absolutely alone.

In the small private airport, in the streets, and right there, in the highway to Harry, there wasn’t any signs of paparazzi. I looked at the ocean, attentive, trying to spot a photographers in a boat, but there weren’t any boats. I looked up for a minute, at the mountain tops, trying to find photographers trying to get a good angle, but there weren’t any either. I had gotten good at spotting them in every unusual place they usually hid to try and catch me doing something cover-worthy, but today I couldn’t and the reason was beautiful: there weren’t any paparazzi in Corsica. Harry was right: they were all either in Sardegna, Venice or Puglia.

I sighed, happy, allowing myself a smile, knowing I could use this. I could use three days of nothing but beaches, Harry and no paparazzi. It was rare that I had the opportunity to just stop and enjoy the sensation that I was making the right choice, but right there, I knew this would be good for me.

As the thought crossed my mind, we overheard a car at a distance. We passed by us in a hurry, and I almost had no time to wonder if it could be photographers – they usually were reckless drivers. ‘Don’t be paranoid’, I told myself. ‘Not everyone is a paparazzi’.

The car stopped, abruptly, then reversed until it parked right before where we were parked.

I shared a look with Eddy.

“Should we go?”, he mouthed, sharing my suspicions.

I gave the car another look, but before I had made my decision the passenger door opened and we could see Harry’s ginger hair emerging into sight. As we were filled with relief, we smiled at him and at Nathan, who made himself visible by lowering his window.

Harry moved in slow motion. He shut his door and, without taking our eyes from each other, he walked around the car and until where I was until he was two steps from me.

“Anyway, uh”, Eddy said, “I’ll go say hello to Nate”

I didn’t see him walk out, but the next thing I knew was that we were alone before the big rock cliff on one side and the vast Mediterranean on the other - above us only the sunrise. We stared – for maybe way more than socially appropriate because I think I might have heard one of the boys cleaning their throat with a cough that sounded an awful lot like ‘say something!’.

“What are you-uhm- wha-why-“, I took a deep breath, “I thought you’d be asleep by now”

He nodded. “Couldn’t sleep”

His accent caught me off-guard as I realized how much I missed it: the sound of his voice talking to me, soft and tender as I had his eyes on mine. I missed him.

“I thought you’d be making smarter decisions about me”, I teased, regretting it immediately.

“What can I say?”, he asked, with a serious expression, before shrugging. “I’m pathetic”

We giggled, before I remembered what I had come to say. I bit my lip, trying to put it into words.

“And you look…”, we both looked at my outfit: the blue, long evening gown I had worn for the wedding.

“Bit overdressed?”

He took off the dark blue, wool cardigan he was wearing. “I was gonna say cold”

“That too”, I laughed. “I wanted to get on the plane as soon as possible”

He took two steps, coming closer, and wrapping the cardigan around my shoulders. I looked down as my arms found the sleeves and when I looked up, he was looking at me.

“Why?”, he asked, in a whisper, still holding on to the wool lapels in the cardigan with both his hands.

As I felt the proximity, what I felt inside was so intense it felt weird that I had to even say it.

“You know why”

He smiled, short. “...I kind of need you to say it”

I nodded. I knew that. And he was right. He was done being the only one trying to make us work, he needed the reassurance and I needed to let it out. It was my turn to say how I felt.

I opened my mouth, and rehearsed a few ways to say it in my mind before deciding to go straight to the point.

“I like you”, I said. The whispery words stumbled across my lips in such a hurry I feared he might not have understood. I said it fast, afraid I’d change my mind, so utterly exhausted of denying myself the truth in my heart. “I’m not over you. I have feelings for you. I wanna be with you. Frankly, I’ve been so scared you’ll give up on me that I’ve barely slept for the last two nights-“

Harry pulled me close by the cardigan and silenced me with his lips. It was liking coming up for air after struggling to breathe under water. His hands wrapped around my waist under the cardigan and mine found his neck as I brought him even closer.

“I had a, a- a whole speech planned”, I said, breaking the kiss for a second.

“I bet it was really good”, he replied.

“It was very touching, actually”

He smiled. “Why don’t you summarize it?”

“Why don’t I say it?”

He sighed. “Because I have a feeling it’ll be big”, he said. “And I’m done talking. I’m done trying to reason our way through this. There’s no reason. There’s no logic. Let’s be real, Jen, this makes no sense. Yet here we are”, he raised his hand, caressing my cheek. “I want to be with you. And all that I care about is that you want to be with me too… And maybe that could be enough for now, you know? Maybe, just maybe… for these three days that we have we could forget about all the reasons this is maybe a stupid idea and could focus on the present. And I know life is complicated and all, and we need a plan if we want to do this, but what if for now we just worked on the possibility that this is just for three days? We don’t need a plan for three days. We just need each other”, he paused, looking at me.

“I’m not gonna make my speech”, I said. “Yours was better anyway”

He giggled. “So that sounds good?”

“Usually the lack of a plan terrifies me, but in this particular situation, I think is not only exactly what we need, but all that we can do”, I smiled. “So, that sounds perfect”

He smiled. “I do have one thing that I’m sort of planning, though”, he said, as he tightened the hug around me again.

“What is that?”

He traced my jawline with his lips, bringing shivers down my spine. “To take you home…”

“Sounds good”, I mumbled, with my eyes closed, enjoying his touch, even though I had no idea where ‘home’ was in Corsica.

“…and get you out of this pretty dress”, his lips made found their way to my neck.

“…okay”, I whispered. His lips returned to my ear now.

“…And make you moan my name like you used to.”

Maybe to make sure I knew he meant it, he raised his head again to look at me in the eyes. I couldn’t help but smile.

“Well, then…”, I said, already feeling tingly in anticipation, “Take me home, Mr. Prince”

It felt good to have us both refer to ‘home’ and mean the same place again, even though none of us actually lived there, or in my case, even knew where it was. But it felt better knowing that it was only ‘home’ because we were both there, together.

Even if just for three days.

Clooney-Alamuddin Rehearsal Dinner Outfit

Clooney-Alamuddin Wedding Outfit

News and Social Media Reactions!

“Why are you here?”, I asked. ‘God, Jenifer’, I thought. ‘Can you chill?!’

“I’m shopping”, he said, with a smirk on his face that didn’t fool me for one second. He was in jeans, sneakers and the black Yankees cap I had gotten him long before.

“Harry”, I said, concerned. “…I’m here!”

He looked around, confused, then back at me. “I think there’s plenty of space for both of us unless…”, he looked serious, “have you claimed the Adidas store as your territory and now I have to avoid it?”

I took a deep breath and looked around. Janine and Monica were still sitting some distance away, looking up from their phones very discreetly from time to time to see what we were doing. Now, Thomas was joining them and sitting by his girlfriend pretending this was just another ordinary day of work. By the doors, outside, Eddy caught up with Nathan and Clark.

I’m not gonna lie: it was reassuring seeing the gang back together – sort of. I walked around the rail of clothes, going for the shelves and staring at the sneakers, signaling for Harry to follow me.

“Listen”, I said, in a low tone, turning to look at him. Or rather at the button of his shirt since I couldn’t bring myself to look into his eyes. “We talked about this last night, Harry, I’m sorry I kissed you-”

“Well”, he sounded sarcastic. “That’s an unexpected turn of events”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You always do this. You kiss me, then pretend you regret it because you feel guilty and you’re scared because a relationship with me would be too complicated, then you try to bring things back to normal, whatever that is”

“That’s not true”, I said. “I mean, sure, in the past, yes. But things are different now. I didn’t apologized for the kiss because I’m broken like last year, it’s the other way around! I apologized because I’m fine now. We’re both okay on our own and we don’t need to go down this stupid path again. You agreed!”

“Calm down, Jen”, he said. “I’m just here because I need to buy gifts to take back home”

“I- you- what?”, I asked, suspicious.

“You’re right. I agreed with what you said last night. Us, this… it’s a bad idea. We are better off on our own. I mean, look at you. You’re accomplished and happy. And I’m accomplished and happy. So… I agree. The kiss was a mistake”

“A necessary one”, I said. “We needed to see if we were over each other”

“Yes”, he nodded. “And we are”

“We are”

“We’re fine”

“We’re great, look at us!”, we smiled.

“Let’s pretend it never happened”, he said.

“…it didn’t mean anything”

“Right”

“Okay?”

“Okay”

“Although, why are you here?”

“I told you”, he said. “I need to buy presents”

“But… but why here? Why are you risking being seen with me? You know what will happen, they’ll say we’re back together!”

“I came to talk to you”. He put his hands in his pockets. “Thomas said you’d be here, and you mentioned a mall last night. Thomas asked Monica which one and here we are”, he sighed. “Last night was awkward and weird and I don’t want it to be like that, so I thought we could… talk. I thought we shoul, well, not should, but I thought we could… be friends”

“Friends?”

“Yes, I mean, as we said, we’re okay the way we are, so there’s no reason to avoid each other, right?”, he asked. “I mean, it’s us. Look how much has changed. You could help me shop and meanwhile we could catch up, learn what the other has been up to… This sort of thing”, he looked at me, seeing the distrust in my eyes. “Jen, I’m not here to get you back or anything… Besides I know how much you love to dress me up”

“Harry, you can’t be here”

“Why not?”

“There’s paparazzi coming”, I said, looking at the windows again, and at my watch.

“I know”, he said.

“You know?”

“Yes, when Monica said where you were, she mentioned it was a photo-op”

“But- you- you do realize we called them here, right? It’s part of my contract, I must be seen wearing and shopping at Adidas”

“Yes, I assumed so”, he looked me up and down. “You are a walking Adidas mannequin”

“And you- you still want to stay here?”

“I do need to buy some stuff, I’m leaving for Chile tomorrow… And we need to fix this”, he pointed at me, and then at him. “It’s too awkward, I can barely sleep at night with embarrassment for us”

I chuckled. “They’ll see you… And they’ll say-“

“Maybe when they get here I’ll leave, maybe I’ll stay”, he shrugged. “Just rumors, right?”

I stared at him quietly for a second, confused at his relaxed approach. That was not the Harry I said goodbye to ten months ago. I looked around. “Okay… but don’t blame me when your girlfriend gets mad…”

I walked towards the male shirts. “Sure”, he said. “That’d be hard, considering, you know… she doesn’t exist”

I looked at him. “Really?”

“Mmhm”, he mumbled. “Uh, where are you going? I didn’t tell you what I needed”

“Shirts”, I pointed at rail after a pause to process that new bit of information. “Everyone needs official Brazilian football shirts”

“I have one”, he said. “They gave me one at the charity I visited yesterday”

“Let me guess”, I started. “The yellow one? Bonus points if it has your name on the back”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing”, he laughed.

“It’s not, it’s sweet of them. It’s a good gesture. But let’s be real, yellow is not your color”

He looked at me, offended. “Says who?”

“Says me”, I said. “Don’t forget with my advice you ended up on People’s most stylish men list last year”

“Yes, highlight of my year, thank you, Jenifer”, he mocked, on a monotone. Then he looked down, and spoke lower. “Actually... that was pretty cool, and an image boost, according to LF... so thank you”

“You’re welcome”. He stayed quiet as I browsed through the shirts. “The one they gave you was probably a large, too. You’re a medium”

“I’m a large”

“No, you think you’re a large, which is your problem. It’s like you remember nothing I taught you… here”, I gave him a blue medium Brazilian football shirt.

“I do remember you told me to avoid blue”

“On suits, because you only had blue suits. And sweaters, same thing. Not this blue. Blue is your friend in this particular situation. Let’s find a black. I’m assuming you need one for William, too”

“Yeah, and something for George”                                                        

“How is George?”, I asked, excited.

“Good”, he smiled. “A little devil, thinks he runs the house, takes after his dad with that, but he looks cute”

I chuckled. “So…”, I said after a while. “No girlfriend…”, was the transition too obvious? “I’m supposed to assume the blonde with perfect hair I saw in the pictures with you was a platonic friend?”

“A blonde?”

“Yes, perfectly straight hair, aristocratic face, obvious fake tan… Unlike you I do have social media accounts and I did ran into a lot of articles about your love life… against my will, of course”

“I don’t think that’s true”

“It was!”, I said, letting go of the shirts and turning to face him. “Sometimes they just pop up, it’s ridiculous. Also people kept sending me them for some reason-“

“No, I mean I don’t think she fake tans”

“Oh”, I said, “She does. I mean, she’s pretty. But she’s also a white girl living in England. Unless she’s ethnic, in which case chances are she’d be a brunette. So either she fake tans, or dyes her hair”

“Okay, is that jealousy I hear?”

“No”, I said, getting back to the black shirts. “I’m just saying this because I’m observant. Nothing wrong with fake tanning…”

“Good, because I don’t think you were naturally tanned for Victoria’s Secret”

“You watched it”, I said, smiling. “Yes, I did fake tan for Victoria’s Secret. But in my defense, all the angels are basically contractually obliged to it, it’s part of the deal”

“Angels, huh? I see you got really into it”

“I did”, I said, surprised at myself. “I still think they need better representation of more average body types, but I can’t help it. They really get to you. The entire thing is amazing… Plus the girls are the best! I made so many new friends”

“Yeah, I saw that”

We were quiet for a while, as I picked shirts and gave it to him. We went to find one for Kate. “So…”, I started, finally. “The blonde wasn’t… anything?”

“No, she was something”, he said. “And then she wasn’t”

“Wow, Harry, too many details, calm down”

He chuckled. “Fine, we have friends in common, and we started going out. Nothing official. Then it got official. Then it was over”, he shrugged again. I looked at him, trying to find signals of pain or heartbreak.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. She’s young, just out of college, needed to focus on her career”

“That seems to be your type”, I joked. He closed his eyes, smiling slightly.

“Ouch”, he said.

“Besides, she can’t be that young, I didn’t see any sort of criticism like when it was me”

“She’s a year older than you”

“Oh”, I said. I looked at him for a while longer. “My mom says you look old”

Now he did look offended. “Thank you”

“I mean, you are thirty”, I went on. “It’s hard to grasp that idea. You are a thirty year old man”

“And you’re a twenty four year old girl”, he said. “You’re officially in your mid-twenties now”

“And you only have three months left of your twenties”, I said. “I mean, you’re supposed to be an actual adult now”

“I am already an adult”, he said. “I went to war. Twice. I live alone. I have an office job-”

“Your apartment still sucks? How is that new job going, by the way?”

“It’s fine, I like the action better, though. And I have a charity I started myself-”

“How is that going?”

“Great. My point is I’m an adult”

“Well, yes, but when you’re in your twenties, you know, you have room to grow. It gives you an excuse, so you can make mistakes”, I made an affected voice tone, “Oh, yes, he did get his picture taken butt naked in Vegas… He’s in his twenties, though, he’ll grow out of it”

“That was so not how that played out”

“Now, you’re gonna be thirty, people expect you to know what you’re doing and what you want. Do you, Harry?”, I gave him an intense look and took a step dangerously close. “Do you?”

“Uh, excuse me”, we broke eye contact to look at Thomas, who was holding his phone behind him. “Edward would like to talk to you. He said he tried your phone, but it was off?”

Harry stared at him for a second, serious, before giving him the shirts in his arm and grabbing the phone, walking away a couple of steps to answer.

Thomas looked at me, holding the shirts. “Jenifer”

“Hey, Thom”, I said, smiling. “How do you like Brazil this time around?”

“Your home town is a lot prettier than Sao Paolo”, he said. “Don’t tell anyone I said that”

I chuckled. “Tell me, Thom… How is he?”

Thom and I shared a familiar look. I could see the doubt in his mind, wondering if he should stick to his job’s discretion policy or be honest even though I wasn’t in Harry’s life anymore.

“He’s doing good”, he said, sticking with discretion probably. “Surprisingly good. I mean, there were moments it looked like the old Harry would come back, but you did a number on him. I don’t think he even remembers who he was before New York, so now he can only be who he became”

“And what’s that?”

He seemed calm. “The best version of himself we’ve ever seen”

That was a more positive answer than I was expecting. To be completely honest, I had expected Harry’s positive, relaxed and mature attitude to be a farce covering up for the damage my absence had caused.

“Edward!”, Harry shouted from where he was, quickly taking a deep breath and whispering again.

Ashamed of my egotistical, selfish disappointment at his well-being, I looked at Thomas again. “What’s that about?”

“The phone call?”, he asked. “Edward didn’t know you’d be here”

“…really?”

“You will recall he wasn’t your biggest fan”, I laughed. “He was extraordinarily optimistic when Harry moved back, completely devoted to burying every trace of you left behind”

“It’s reassuring how consistent he is”, I said, knowing that was exactly the attitude I had expected from Lame-Fucks.

“I mean…”, Thomas said, stepping closer to me and whispering. “About a month after the move back, there was a shady night I almost thought he would get back together with Chelsy”

“Really?!”, now that was the level of gossip I was looking for.

“Yes, no one was too happy about it. I mean, sure, back in 2012 everyone would have loved for them to marry. But after her offense to the family’s honor, let’s just say her name isn’t met with upmost joy around the office”

“I had the feeling his family really missed her when we were in Scotland”

“I think they miss the easiness the idea of her brought. But knowing what she is, they know she would have been more trouble than anything else. No, his friends are the ones who wanted her back”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes”, Thomas leaned in to the wall, seeming to get unusually comfortable with the conversation topic. “You didn’t get to meet them, but they have this very tight group, you know? Not that they see each other a lot, but they grew up together. And there’s a very ancient feeling of comradery and loyalty to the way they were raised”

“You mean they’re judgmental pricks who expect Harry to end up with someone on their level?”

“Well…”, he looked uncomfortable. “Well, yes… You’re not gonna tell anyone I said any of this, will you?”

“Of course not”, I reassured him. “I’m just worried about him”

“Well, yes. So for the first month they took him out, and invited her along, and tried to play cupid, you know how it goes… I really did think they might have gotten back together, which was very disappointing, but then he blew her off so rudely they finally stopped trying to meddle”

‘Nice!’, I thought. “You said a month, right? A month after the move?”

“Yes”, he replied. That was about the time I got the drunk voice messages. “Nathan was on duty that night and, not that we gossip about what Harry does or not, because we might or might not be contractually forbidden to do so…”, he gave me an intense look, and I replied by pretending to seal my lips with an imaginary zipper and throwing away the key. “…Nate said there was a lot of yelling when he told Chelsy to bugger off, his friends tried to defend her, so he started yelling at them, there was some tension and he decided to leave and went straight home”

By when he must have sent me the messages.

Harry came back, returning the phone to Thomas with a stern look that he dissuaded after taking in a deep breath before looking at me. Then he seemed suspicious.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”, he asked.

“How am I looking at you?”

“Like you know all of my secrets”

I smiled. “I know you need this”, I picked a packed official World Cup football and gave it to him.

“A ball?”

“A ball”

“I have a football at home”

“Yes, but this is the official ball for the 2014 World Cup. I thought it could be your gift to George, you could start collecting them for him. A ball for each World Cup in his lifetime”

He nodded. “That’s a good idea”

“Yes, I’m doing it for Arthur”, I said. “It’s fun, it’s a memento of his life, you know? Especially because in his case he was born on a cup year”

“I still have the ball from the 2010 Cup”

“You were there?”

“South Africa”, he said, with a bitter expression. “Saw England booed off the stadium, it was ruthless”

I sent him to the fitting room, a small, secluded hallway at the far end of the store, with a few individual spaces divided by black curtains. It was unisex, so I stayed outside to approve of his choices – also because if the paparazzi arrived they couldn’t see me there.

“Jen”, Janine said as she came to find me, looking very unfriendly. “You need to buy something, you need to be seen leaving with a bag”

“Right”, I said, and went back to the rail of clothes to get a couple of jackets I had seen and going back to the fitting rooms hallway.

“I feel like I am definitely a large”, I overhead Harry from the fitting room in front of mine across the hall, so I left with an arm of each jacket in each of my arms and opened the curtain to where he was.

“You’re not a large”, I told him as I walked in, closing the curtain behind me, wondering if the salespeople could see us. “The people of this store are having a fun day today-Huh, you’re a large”, I said, surprised.

“That’s what she said”

I groaned, making him laugh. I pulled the fabric of the shirt slightly, it was definitely too small for him. “Have you been working out?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment”, he said. “And yes, I had to do some heavy training for Walking With The Wounded, so I just kept going after it was done”

“That’s the South Pole thing, right? How was it?”

“Yes, and good”, he replied. “So can I buy a large or will you stick with your guts here?”

“You can buy the large”, I granted, then turned to him to show my jackets. “What do you think, black or white?”

He stared for a while. “White”

“Really? But it gets dirty easier”

“Yet you wore white for the Oscars”

“Life is not a red carpet event where your personal assistant follows you around with a Kleenex to make sure you don’t spill something on yourself”

“Take a risk”, he said, simply, “You can do it, I believe in you. Go nuts, change the world”, he mocked.

I took the black jacket off while Harry called Thom and asked for him to bring another blue and black shirts in a large. I fixed the white jacket, wearing it on both arms. “Alright”, I said.

“Tell me about the Oscars”, he pulled the blue shirt off, folding it as he waited for Thomas.

“Oh”, I said, staring a bit longingly at his nude torso, visibly more muscly than I remembered, the nude skin making me gulp with the thought that I used to be able to touch it whenever I wanted. “It was uh… it was really amazing, I can’t believe it actually happened”, I nodded, smiling. “I mean, everything happened so fast at one moment I was trying to breathe and on the other I had tears in my eyes and my Oscar statue was slipping right out of my hands to the ground”

He chuckled. “That was so you”, he said. We heard Thomas calling out from outside and Harry opened the curtain to get the new shirts, he started trying out the blue one.

“That’s not the legacy I wanted”, I said. “I wanted the speech to be my legacy”

“The speech is your legacy”, he said, as he put on his shirt. I enjoyed he was distracted to take another pic at his abs. “I mean…”, he giggled. “Kiss my Oscar-winning ass? Genius”

I smiled, proud. “I wanted to thank you”, I said. “On my speech”

He stopped adjusting the shirt, looking at me. “You did?”

I gulped, staring at my own reflection again, checking out my jacket. “Every Sunday, in every speech, and not to brag, but I did a lot of speeches… in every one of them there was always a moment I got stuck when I thought of thanking you. I never did, because I didn’t think I could come up with a cryptic enough way to do it, and I didn’t want to put you in an awkward position of using your real name… so I didn’t. But I wanted to”

“I’m glad you didn’t”, he said, after a pause. I looked back, questioningly.

“Why?”

“Well, why would you?”

“Because I got all of this thanks to you”

“No, Jen, you didn’t. You want to think that, because it’s more humbling than the actual truth which is simply that you are talented”

“I know I’m talented”

“I know you are… but you dreamed of this for too long and when you finally got it, the fact that we coincidentally were pulling a stunt around the same time makes you believe that that’s the reason everything happened, but it isn’t. If we hadn’t done anything, you still would have gotten the part in Wild & Free, if not only for your talent, than because of the whole meme thing that happened just before our relationship did… You always come up with excuses, but it’s all you”. I smiled at him through the mirror, feeling myself blush. “I’m flattered to know you thought of me that much, though”. ‘Shit’. “Okay, verdict?”

I stood behind him, in the tight fitting room, and adjusted the shirt. “Looks good”, I said, pointlessly touching bits of his back pretending I was checking something.

I thought it would be smarter to force myself to sit down in the stool. Harry took the shirt off, and tried the other one. We remained silent for a while.

“Are you gonna tell me about the boyfriend?”, he asked.

I breathed in deep, as I looked at him. Did I really expect him not to know about Trevor? Did I really believe I didn’t care or could I be so honest to myself as to admit I sometimes went out with Trevor with the sole purpose of giving Harry something to see in case he was watching me like I was watching him?

“Trevor?”

“Yeah”, he said. “Or is it Leonardo Dicaprio, because apparently that’s a thing now too”

I smiled, “No, no, uh- it’s, it’s Trevor”

“Or is he a platonic friend?”, he asked, taking the shirt off.

“No”, I said, my voice small.

“…oh”, he mumbled. “Is he nice?”. I nodded affirmatively. He was also not my boyfriend, but as much as I wanted to say so, I couldn’t bring myself to. It was like Trevor was a certainty that I wouldn’t do something stupid – as long as Harry thinks I have a boyfriend, I won’t go kissing him again. Of course that hadn’t stop me the night before. “Can you hand me my shirt?”, I picked his button up white shirt, and got up, holding it open so he’d put his arms through. “How long has it been? You and… uh, Trevor”

I felt like I could throw up with the subject. I did the math in my head, realizing right before I had the chance to say ‘not long’, that it had actually already been… “Seven months”

“Wow”, he said. “Good for you”, he sounded honest, as he pointed his left arm at me so I folded his sleeves up. “So, that’s why you said you shouldn’t have kissed me last night”. I looked up, my hands frozen in place touching his arm. He didn’t look at me. “You know, more than five months… it means you’re exclusive”, he said, as I finished a sleeve and went for the other one. “If in five months we feel we could be proud of them, we make it serious and date exclusively for another six”, I recognized my own words as he spoke, with an air of a smile on his lips.

“Plan A”, I said, about the idea of what our lives could have been that I laid down on our last day together.

“Yep”

“Harry…”, I started. “Is that why you and Fake-Tan broke up? Because it was more than five months?”

“No!”, he said, almost convincingly enough that I worried I had sounded stupid. “It was just, you know… life. Sometimes it just doesn’t work”

I finished his sleeve, with a humorless smile. “You’re really not willing to tell me anything, are you?”

“What?”, he asked, avoiding my eyes, starting to close his buttons.

There was a brief moment in which I considered shutting up and ending that conversation on a good note, but then, of course, I said ‘fuck it’. “This entire conversation you have been asking about me, and when I ask about you, all you do is give me monosyllabic answers and avoid saying anything that could tell me about how your last ten months have been”

He raised his head, serious. “Really?”, he said. “I’m not being truthful?”

“Yes, really”

“Jen…”, he said, closing his eyes for one second too long. “You’re the one who’s giving me your interview answers”

“My what?”

“Interview answers, the automatic answers you give when you’re doing an interview”, my jaw dropped with outrage. He did a mocking tone, “Oh, the Oscars were amazing, it was like a dream, everything happened so fast, I’m so happy, everything is fine, which jacket should I buy?!”

“Are you serious?!”, I asked, “That’s me being honest, you jerk. At some point you run out of ways of talking about something”

“Oh, poor me, my life is too good!”

I stepped closer to him, the anger talking louder. “Real mature, Harry. I’m sorry if I’m so happy I ended up sounding too honest!”, I said, sarcastic.

“Oh, please!”, he mocked. “If you’re so happy why did you kissed me last night despite having a boyfriend?”, he took a step forward, in my sneakers he was almost a whole foot taller than me.

I felt the words scape me for a moment. “Why did you break up with her, Harry?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because why wouldn’t you tell me?!”

“Because I’m trying to be your friend and I don’t think going into details about my ex-girlfriend is the way to do it”

I let out a laugh, mockingly. “I’m sorry, friends?! I guess we’ve stablished that this isn’t a friend’s conversation, Harry. You can’t be friends if you don’t at least try to talk to people. And we’re not really talking, are we?”

“Said the girl who thinks she’s in Good Morning America!”

“I’m doing my best!”

“Really?”, he mocked again. I groaned, loudly, and we were interrupted by the curtains being dramatically opened.

We both jumped apart. Janine was there, looking annoyed. “They’re here”, she said.

I sighed, realizing I managed to actually forget the paparazzi were coming. I took of my jacket and handed it over to her. “Pay for this, I’ll be there in a second”

“White?”, she asked.

“Just go!”, she left, without closing back the curtain, so Harry and I just remained where we were. He was finishing dressing up, shoving his shirt under his pants, and no one said anything else, so I just crossed the hall back to where I had left my things. I put my other jacket on, grabbed my bag and went back to where he was, not knowing how to say goodbye. Not knowing how to close the book and let it fucking go already.

“I’ll go ahead and leave, maybe it’ll draw them out with me, and no one will see you leaving”, I said. “Just turn left when you leave, it’ll take you the opposite way. Keep your head down, it should work”. He nodded, still now looking at me. “It really was good to see you, Harry… I’m glad you’re doing fine”. I wanted to say the word – ‘goodbye’ – but I just couldn’t say it again. Not after New York, not after the night before. So I just walked out.

I put on my ‘celebrity-smile’, like Alli called it – the smile I use when I know people are watching, so I look nice -, and met the others by the registers. Janine was just finishing to pay for my jacket, so I grabbed the black bag, with the Adidas logo on it, ready to leave.

“We may remind you, of course”, Monica told the salespeople in Portuguese, in her heavy Portuguese from Portugal accent, “that Ms. Silva has a contract with this brand that prevents you from disclosing anything she might have said in the store, or anyone she might have been with”

Just like that, the salespeople couldn’t tell anyone Harry had been there. I sighed, smiled at them, thanked them for the help, and headed out the glass doors to the waiting men with giant cameras, splattered around at a respectful distance, who all came closer at once when I left, starting to ask their questions. Janine passed an arm around my back protectively, and whispered something in my ear, so I followed her commands and made sure the bag could be seen, and my hair was back so they could see I was wearing Adidas clothes. With Eddy on front of us, clearing the way, we managed to get back to the car and go to my next appointment.

 The sour taste of Shoyu sauce was fading from my tongue as I still sat by the table in my hotel room more than half an hour after we were done having sushi for a late dinner. My mother had gone to spend a couple of days at her cousin’s house not far from São Paulo. Eddy had gone back to his room to watch a game on TV. Janine was doing a skype call on her room, Monica had a date with Thomas, and I was staring at my phone, distracting myself with weird Buzzfeed quizzes and revolting articles about the protests I was contractually forbidden to talk about.

I heard a knock on the door, happy to have an excuse to finally get up. I left my phone on the table, and walked over to the foyer to open up, hoping it wasn’t just the hotel management with more ‘complimentary’ stuff.

Of course it was Harry.

It made no sense for him to be there, other than just maybe I wished really, really hard?

“Harry?”, I asked, surprised to see his breathless, nervous-looking self at my hotel room door. I had many questions, and none of them were answered when he simply walked in, taking the door from my hand and closing it behind himself. “How did you get past security?”, I asked, quickly realizing Eddy would never tell him he couldn’t come in to see me. “Did the paparazzi saw you come in?”, I went on, as he walked in to the living area of my room, I followed behind, slower, still confused, not just as to why he was there but as to how was that supposed to make me feel. “Or the fans? The entrance of the hotel has been packed for days”

He seemed embarrassed. “I got into a trunk”

“I-“, I stuttered. “I’m sorry?”

“I got into the trunk of the car in the garage of my hotel, so the paparazzi didn’t see me leaving and therefore didn’t follow me, and when we got here we called Eddy who authorized us to drive into the garage of your hotel, and after we made sure the coast was clear I got out and took the service elevator up”, he finished, somewhat out of breath. He didn’t let me respond. “I didn’t break up with her because of Plan A”, he said.

I was almost too caught up imagining him in the trunk of a car to hear the last part. “…Fake-Tan?”, I asked, and he let out a small giggle.

“Yeah”, he said. “I didn’t even break up with her. She broke up with me… on April 12, to be precise”

“That’s my birthday”

He sighed. “Yes… she, uh… she overheard me leaving you a message in your voice mail, and she broke up with me”

“You- you didn’t leave me a message on my birthday”, I contested.

He took a deep breath, distraught. “I deleted it when I noticed she was there, and then I ended up not calling back”. I guess he was waiting for me to say something, but I still barely seemed to accept he was there, let alone process what he was saying. I just knew that now it did feel like we were talking like friends again. “You were right. I didn’t tell you anything important, or consistent, because I just- I don’t know, I don’t…”, he sighed, exasperated, “I don’t feel like I’m doing anything consistent. It feels like the time is passing really slowly, and you’re out there getting your life changed, but I’m somehow in the exact same place I was before. They gave me an office job and the deal is if I do it for a while I get promoted, and then there’s more office job and I’m glad they trust me, and it means I’m doing well, but… I didn’t join the Army so I could spend my days behind a desk in an office. People think I should, because I’m good at it. And I am, I am good at it. I’m planning a four-day long international sports event for armed services veterans in September, and I like it, don’t get me wrong, I do. I like that part. I like the competing, and actively helping soldiers who… who lost something while fighting for us. But people assume I like all of the desk-job thing since as far as they know I spent all my time in New York doing just that, but it’s different. It's not New York. It’s not the same. I don’t like it. I don’t like my job. And I can’t tell anyone, because they will assume I don’t like planning the games, which I do. And when she broke up with me, honestly… that’s when I noticed. Because I was hanging on to following what you told me to do, get a hold on my career and find someone I like, and everything will be fine. And then I was suddenly very much single again and I realized I didn’t care. And being alone I could admit to myself I don’t like the office job either.”

I knew he was giving me a real conversation this time, but there was only one thing I really wanted to ask. “What was the message you almost left me?”

He smiled, sad, looking at the ground. I felt like I might have gone too far by asking, so I decided to tell him something in return for the things he was saying.

“Trevor is not my boyfriend”, I said. He looked at me. “Five months came and gone, and I honestly didn’t even notice, so I didn’t ask him to be exclusive. We’re just… not. I’m not his girlfriend, we’re not exclusive. We just… hang out”, Harry knew what hang out was code for. “He asked if he could come to this trip with me, to meet my family, and I said I didn’t think it was a good idea and now I think he’s gonna break up with me”

It felt good to tell Harry this. It felt easy, it felt like breathing.

Harry nodded, still looking at me intensely. “I’m terrified of turning thirty”, he said. I gave him a questioningly look. “Something changed… With my almost-wedding and Halo Day, people trust me now. And I have more responsibility and work, and that's good. That's what I wanted. But I'm terrified I'm gonna mess everything up. Especially because everything is supposed to be going well, everything is going so well, but I- I feel messed up inside and I don't think any of my old friends can understand. Most days I just wish I could talk to you”. The last line came so calmly it took me by surprise. Especially because I could relate so much. “And you were right. I’m supposed to be an adult soon and I- I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m thirty years old and I don’t know what I’m doing. Do I ever-Do I ever get to feel like I have my shit together?”

“…I get that”, I said, smiling slightly. “I am so thankful for the award season, and everything I got. I am, I truly am. But I keep giving you, and everyone else who asks, my interview answers because I don't have any other to give. I mean every single one of those answers, but I’m not sure if I mean that in a good way anymore? Everything happened too fast, everything changed too fast. My life suddenly is not mine anymore and I barely remember when things changed. I'm so done talking about it. It feels like everyone thinks this is it, I got it! My career is set in stone, but is not. Before I had nothing to lose, so I had something to fight for, but now I have an actual career to protect and I can't mess up… Everyone is watching just to see what I do next, a bad movie? Rehab? It’s like the whole world is waiting to be able to point their fingers at me and I need to be relevant so I don’t give them the satisfaction. I feel like all I do is work and work and I am so exhausted, Harry, I am so tired”, I sighed, surprised at my own words, wondering for how long had I felt like that. “Unicef asked if I wanted to run the New York marathon for charity, and I had to say no. You know why? Because I won’t have time. I don’t have time for charity now. I can’t even help on the political situation here, in case you haven’t noticed, is going to shit. I can’t help, because I can’t make political statements. Instead, I’m supposed to write a book, and renew my contract with Marvel, because what kind of idiot wouldn’t? And there’s a show on Netflix with my name on it and I can’t say yes to doing it, because I’m a film actress now. And if I do shows again, people will forget me and I won’t be able to get back into that horse. I mean, does it ever slow down just a little bit? Do I ever get to stop feeling like I have to hold on to my career for dear life?”

Harry seemed sad. He tried, but didn’t say anything, clearly not having any answers.

“I used to want this for a reason”, I said. “I wanted to be famous because it would be easier, because I wouldn’t have to keep on fighting for it. I wanted to be so famous I could help people, really help people. Send checks to someone whose story I read in the paper who couldn’t pay rent or something. Make people happy in some way. Make a difference. Back when I was filming Wild & Free I had promised I would use the opportunities I got to help the fight for better research for pediatric cancer, and I’m not doing anything. I don’t have time to do anything, because now I have to use all of my time to keep the career I got. Do I ever get to stop feeling like I might lose everything?”, we were silent for a while. “I got literally every single award an actor could dream of, and it just makes me feel like I peaked. I peaked at twenty-three! It’s all downhill from here, because how could I possibly top that? I don’t. Did you know that only two women have won an Academy Award two years in a row? Two. Only two since 1929!”, I pulled down the sleeves of my NYU hoodie, crossing my arms. “Back in new year's eve I promised myself I would enjoy my life more, and I would take trips and see the world, not in business trips where I barely have time to breathe, but actually travel. For me. To focus on my mental health, and now I barely have two days off to catch up on my sleep and, of course, I don't tell anyone any of this, because I feel so ungrateful just thinking about it”

“You’re not ungrateful”, he said, and I let out a sarcastic laugh.

“I’m the first Latin American actress to win an Oscar for a leading role”, I said. “The first. Ever! My name will be written forever in the history of film because of this. I have everything I wanted, Harry”, I said, realizing I didn’t sound any bit happy about it. “I have everything I wanted, so… now what?”

None of us was in any position to offer answers, so we stayed quiet, each dreading their own problems. The silence went on and on, and finally I just walked over to the velvet settee sofa at the far end of the bed and sat down, pulling my legs up and holding my knees. I could feel his eyes on me, until finally he spoke again.

“Okay”, he said, hands on his hips, sounding decisive. “Well… we have to do something. Right?”

“Do what?”

“Well, for starters, whatever happened to your bucket list?”

“My-?”, I stopped, and looked at him. I remembered the sunny day in Morgan Bay when I told him about all the things that I wanted.

“You need new goals, life isn’t made of awards. You wanted a bunch of things, now go get them”

“But I already have the rest of my year planned out”

“Is it all set in stone? What about that Netflix show you talked about?”

“Well…”, I started. “I still haven’t signed the Marvel contract for the next couple of years. The one I have now technically ends after Age of Ultron, which I’ll shoot for a couple of weeks next month, before my next movie. Netflix offered me the lead for a badass thirteen episode show that starts filming in October all the way until February, maybe March with the award season”

“And you want it”

“Yes, but Richard says I need to focus on movies to stabilize my movie-career. Besides signing again with Marvel means I go into shooting during the time they’ll shoot the show, and Marvel is more profitable”

“Okay, but do you want the show or Marvel?”

“Well, my management says-“

“Fuck your management, Jen. This is your career. You’re the one who has to live with it”, he said. “You want new things, right? Then go after the things you left unmarked in your bucket list. The animated character? Directing? The fashion line?”

“I actually have a meeting about that coming up”

“You do?!”, he asked, excited.

“Yes, a label wants me to design something for them”

“That’s amazing”, he smiled. “See, that’s what I’m talking about. If you want change, change shit”

I chuckled. “Funny thing for you to say, since, you know, that is actually the answer to your problem as well”

He sighed, “It’s not the same thing”

“Yes, it is”

“No, it’s not. I’m-“

“A prince?”, I asked. “Come on, you can come up with a better excuse than that”

“I’m serious”, he said. “It involves a lot more than just me. Everything I do reflects on my family-“

“It’s still your life, Harry. Look, I know I didn’t have the funniest of experiences with your family… but I know one thing for sure: they all love you. A lot. They really want you to be happy, and I’m sure if you told them you’re not happy with your job they’d be supportive of you changing it for something that you like”

He seemed to think it through. “Maybe if I agreed to do more royal tours… I mean, I quite like them”

“Yes, I’m sure you can come up with a compromise”, I said. “After all, if you want change, change shit”

He smiled, looking at me. “I missed you”, I felt a warmth inside. “See, we do need to be friends”

“It would appear so”, I said, knowing that just by talking about it I already felt so much better.

“So, what are you gonna do?”, he asked.

“I think…”, I started, “I think I’m gonna do Age of Ultron… and then I’m gonna be the idiot who doesn’t renew her contract and goes back to doing a TV show”

“Nice”

“Richard is not gonna like it”

“It’s your career”, he reminded me.

“What about you?”

He sighed. “I guess I need to think about what I want to do… Of course, first I’m just gonna focus on finishing Invictus, the games. Then I’ll focus on that”

“Just don’t let your age pressure you”, I said, sincere, “I know I was teasing you about it before, but when it comes to figuring out what makes you happy, and what you want to do with your life, you have to take your time”

“You were right, though. I am thirty, it’s about time I have that figured out”

“As long as it is you who figured it out… It’s important, so just… you know-you have all the time in the world, Mr. Prince”, an alarm went off on my head, remembering there was actually a musical theater number about it.

He smiled wider. “I missed hearing you call me that”, we giggled.

“I’m serious, don’t make me sing you into it”

“I don’t doubt you would”, we laughed.

Another pause, then he spoke again, gentle. “And, Jen… he’s not gonna break up with you over it”, I looked at him. “The Trevor bloke. He’s not gonna break up with you because you told him not to come… If anything, he’s gonna ask if you want to make it serious, then if you say no, and if he’s an idiot, maybe he’ll break with you… but he’s gonna ask first”

“…what should I answer?”

He smiled, but his eyes were sad. “I can’t help you with that… Maybe he’ll wait for you, maybe he’ll let you go”

I scorned. “Would you wait?”

“Yes”, he said, without missing a beat. I looked at him, the blue of his eyes leaving me breathless for a second.

I desperately searched for a new topic. “Did you see the How I Met Your Mother Finale in March?”

He threw his head back in frustration. “God, yes. What was that?!”

“I don’t know!”, I said, turning to my side to face him. “Can you believe they broke up Barney and Robin?”

“Yes, that was ridiculous”, he said. “I mean, I guess we all knew the mother would die, but how dare they break up Barney and Robin?”

“They spent nine seasons building that relationship up!”

“Exactly!”

We laughed, slightly, remaining in silence for a while.

“We should be friends”, I said, with my eyes at the carpet, but looking inside.

I felt his eyes on me, and finally blinked, and looked at him. I waited for Harry to ask why or something, but maybe he was waiting for me to speak, because we just stared into each other’s eyes for a while trying to pretend that was normal.

“I’ll call you”, he said, finally. “Well, maybe texting is easier, considering the time zones. But we can, you know, skype sometimes… catch up”

“Okay”, I said, smiling. “I mean, you still have to tell me more about your last ten months”

“Right”, he said.

“…for instance, what was the message you were leaving me on my birthday?”

He smiled. “I said happy birthday”

“Right”, I said, containing perhaps badly the sarcastic smile on my lips.

“I should go… I have an early flight to Chile”

“No, sorry!”, I said, guilty. “I won’t mention it again!”

He smiled. “No, it’s fine. I just… It’s really late”

“Oh”, I said. “Right, of course”, I got up, and he followed.

“But I’ll call you”

“Do you still have my number?”

He smiled, walking to the door. “Yes… I do. I’ll send you a picture from the car trunk on the ride back to my hotel to prove it”

I laughed. “Did you really do that? Because I’m having trouble believing it”

“I’d rather you believe I’m lying, to be honest”, we laughed again. He stopped by the door. “I’m glad I came. I didn’t want to leave things… like that”

I nodded. “I’m glad you came”, he reached for the doorknob.

We were silent for a second, without knowing what should come next, so he leaned in, very slowly, and gently kissed my cheek. The whole thing took way longer than necessary, as if in slow motion, his skin like velvet against mine. I felt his breath, telling myself it was just a kiss in the cheek. Between friends.

“I’ll call you”, he repeated, whispery, reaching for the door.

“Have a safe flight”, I said, when I finally found my voice after the kiss, as he was already in the hallway. I saw Nathan and Clark there, starting to walk towards the elevator.

He smiled again, and left, and I closed the door slowly, leaning into it and closing my eyes shut strongly in embarrassment – even though I was not sure about what… Maybe the way my stomach felt funny and warm just by remembering his lips on my cheek.

I shook my head, and walked back in, grabbing my phone on the way to the bed. I laid in the comfy sheets, and thought about calling Trevor. I should, I hadn’t talked to him in two days.

I stared at the phone for a while, wondering if I had something in particular I wanted to tell Trevor, realizing the answer was no. ‘Harry, however…’, I thought, immediately sighing, upset, knowing chances were we wouldn’t actually talk anytime soon. It’s too awkward. How could we possibly still be friends after so much has happened?

My phone lighted up when I got a text.

‘I wonder what will happen if we get stopped by the police’, it was from Harry. Attached, was a picture someone had taken of his smiley self inside the trunk of their car before they closed it. I laughed.

‘PRINCE HARRY GETS KIDNAPPED IN BRAZIL! You could start an actual war, Mr. Prince’, I answered.

As I waited for a reply, not even knowing if one would come, I remembered the countless nights we had texted back and forth before, or the nights when we had to sleep together when we took forever to actually fall sleep despite being exhausted because we kept talking about the most random things.

I hugged my pillow, laying on my side, remembering how his chest had felt on my cheek, and his arms around me, pretending he was there, enjoying the memory way too much to guilt myself into stopping it.

My phone vibrated again. ‘Let’s take a minute to imagine what would happen if the trunk suddenly opened right when we are driving by the paparazzi’.

I took so much between laughing and typing a reply that he sent another text. ‘Are you asleep already? That was fast’

‘No, I’m just too busy laughing my ass off to type a reply. I think I’ll watch some Blacklist before going to bed’

I was typing a second message to explain The Blacklist was a new show I was – trying – to watch, when he replied.

‘YOU WATCH THAT TOO?’

‘I do! I’m just about done, but I still haven’t watched the finale, so no spoilers!’

‘YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED THE FINALE? IT AIRED LIKE TWO MONTHS AGO. SILVA. PRIORITIES!!!’

I laughed, the smile on my face – the one that seemed to be a different kind then my usual ones - feeling like it was coming home after a long, cold, war. ‘I watched the beginning but then had to stop… I told you: I’m BUSY! I’ll watch it now!’

I stood up to grab my notebook, logging into Netflix and opening up the first part of the two hours finale of the first season, Berlin. I adjusted myself on the bed, hitting play from where I had ended the time before. My phone ringed.

“Harry?”, I asked, hearing the traffic noise from his side of the line.

“Ok, tell me what you’re seeing”

“What?”

“The episode, I wanna watch it with you. In which part are you?”

I smiled, “Harry, you’re in the trunk of a moving car”

“Yes, and I’m bored”, he said. “Traffic in this town is terrible, we’ll take forever to get to the hotel. Talk to me, Jenny”

I smiled larger, sighing, “Okay, Liz is telling the bureau about Tom. After telling Ressler first, of course. Ten bucks says they’ll bang in, like, two seasons”

“I’ll take that bet, I think it’ll be one season. Hey, about Red. Do you think he’s her father?”

“I’ve been thinking about that”, I said. “I think is too obvious that he is, which is why I don’t think he is. I think he is in love with her”

“He’s too old for her”

“That means nothing”, I said.

“Well, you would say that”, he teased.

“Ha-ha”, I said, sarcastic, thankful he couldn’t see the smile on my face. “Well, I’ll say that not only is he not her father, they will have feelings for each other at some point, and I’ll even add that she might still go back to Tom”

“He betrayed her!”

“We don’t know all the details about that!”

We argued about The Blacklist until he arrived at his hotel, and by the time I was done with the two episodes, he was talking from his bed as well, by when we began to talk about another new show that had ended recently, and all that was wrong with it.

He asked about the plot of the movie I would be filming next, and I talked excitedly completely forgetting he had an early flight. He didn’t stop me, so perhaps he forgot too.

Or maybe we were both completely aware – of the time, of Trevor, or our careers – but choose to ignore those things and pretend for as long as we could that the last ten months didn’t mean anything, that we were just friends.

I repeated the words on my mind as he spoke, making my insides twirl in warmth: Just friends, Jenifer. Just friends.

Walking Adidas Mannequin Outfit

“Why, of course it is!”, she whispered. “You are a national treasure now! They should be lucky to have you!”

I rolled my eyes again, a bit annoyed at her over-excitement, knowing despite the cons I would still take this over the loathing she and dad used to have about my career.

“Jenifer Silva!”, the British ambassador in Brazil greeted me. “Brazilian pride! We are honored to have you, welcome to São Paulo!”

I gave him a genuine smile, trying to leave the reasons of concern behind. “Thank you, it’s good to be here! This is my mother, Vanessa Ferreira”

They shook hands. “Her Majesty would be honored to have you here celebrating her birthday. We’re sorry to bother you with these boring political events, though”

I was about to answer, when my mother found her voice. “Oh, she’s used to it!”, she said, “We met the president just last week!”

I flinched. “Mother”

They laughed. “You should be proud!”, the ambassador said. “Of everything you’ve achieved! And meeting the president, just as big an honor!”

“She is handling the protests a bit poorly, though, don’t you agree?”, I asked. I didn’t look, but I knew Monica was sighing in disapproval from behind me. ‘Don’t let her talk politics!’, Janine had told her before going to walk the room to grab the next reporter to interview me.

It was the 25th of June on a windy, winter night in São Paulo. The British ambassador in Brazil was hosting a party to celebrate the birthday of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II at his home to a selective number of guests from all areas of Brazilian society – including me.

“Well, the protests are unfortunate, but this country does put up a great party”, he said, diplomatic. “And I’m sure many of our guests will be thrilled to meet you, they hold you at a high pedestal over here, rightfully, of course”, I smiled, and we heard some sort of commotion nearby. “Oh, I see our guest of honor has arrived. I believe you’ve met him. Your Royal Highness, we’re honored to have you, sir”

The ambassador, a handsome man in his fifties, curved his head down in a bow and I looked back.

In a small second, the room went out of focus, the word was on mute, and Harry walked towards us picture-perfect in a tuxedo with his piercing blue eyes focused on me. I felt as if my organs were twisting inside of me.

Harry took his eyes from mine to greet the ambassador, and I looked at the ground, confused of what to do. Monica had walked out to go find Janine, and my mother was just as clueless, so really, I was on my own. ‘Do I curtsy?’, I thought. ‘There are no photographers here, so no one will know. Do I call him by his name?’

“…you’ve met Jenifer Silva, of course”, I heard the ambassador tell him. Coming out of my trance, I brought my polite smile back from the dead and looked at Harry trying not to make the math in my head of when had been the last time we were in the same room. ‘Ten months’. Too late.

“Yes. I- Jenifer”, Harry stuttered. Then, putting an end to my doubts, he leaned over and touched my cheek with his, both of his hands holding onto my arms.

I was caught of guard for a moment, but managed a whispery ‘Hi!’. I was also completely overwhelmed by the familiar smell of his cologne, bringing back memories that I had spent a big part of those ten months trying to forget. “Mom, you remember Harry”, I said, using the opportunity to look away and take a deep breath.

“Of course! Hello, sweetie!”, she said, and as he leaned over to greet her, she threw her arms around his neck and brought him into a tight hug. I closed my eyes in embarrassment. “We’ve missed you over the summer! You owe us a sandboarding trip”, Harry laughed.

“Mom”, I told her. “Harry is… busy. He walked the South Pole over our summer, I believe”

Harry looked at me, seeming surprised I knew that. “I did”, he said, his voice a bit higher than I remembered. Than he coughed, cleaning his throat, and it sounded normal again. “I did, yes. I’ve been a tad busy. But then again, so is Jen from what I heard… Ms. Oscar winner”, he winked at me.

I laughed, nervously, feeling the blood rushing to my cheeks and a warmth gathering in my chest. I wanted to say something, about how glad I was he had heard, and how I hoped he knew it was all thanks to him. I wanted to make another joke to keep the mood light – if you can call it that when I could feel my palms sweating – but I didn’t trust my voice. Not when he had such… pride in his eyes. My mother had her voice at ready, though.

“Yes, our Jenny has been so successful, we’re very proud! And I’m a grandma now!”

“So I heard, congratulations!”, he said, as I groaned in frustration at my mother’s oversharing.

“Why, thank you… do come see us soon. Just because you’re no longer dating my daughter doesn’t mean you’re no longer welcome at our home”. I knew for a fact that was true. He might actually be more welcome due to it. “And my husband would love to see you”. I knew for a fact that was bullshit.

“Mom, let’s not monopolize the guest of honor”, I told her. “I’m sure the ambassador would like a chance to properly chat with Harry”

“Right of course, good to see you, Harry, dear”

“Good to see you, Vanessa”

“Mr. Ambassador, thank you again for having us”, I told him, who had been quietly standing by us.

“The pleasure is ours, Ms. Silva”

“And Harry”, I looked at him. “…Good to see you again!”, I squealed.

“Yes! I- We- Let’s catch up!”

I nodded, nervous. “Mmhm”

I grabbed my mother’s arm and walked us out of there as fast as I could, feeling everyone’s eyes on me, wondering why the fuck couldn’t I have thought of something other than ‘mmhm’ to say.

“See, that was okay. I don’t know why you were so worked up over being in the same party as he is. He was lovely”

I sighed, grabbing another champagne flute from a waiter, and reliving the conversation in my head trying to make sense of it. That was it. The horrible and awkward conversation I had been dreading the entire night had passed.

“He looks older”, my mother said.

“He turns 30 in three months”, I said.

“Well, he still looks handsome, though”. I did not need that in my life right now.

I saw Janine come over with Monica, who was acting as her translator, right behind her. Janine now had began to accompany me in my business trips as my ‘brand’ grew bigger – which was the respectable way of saying that now that I was really famous she had to give me more of her time.

“Jen”, she smiled at me. “This is Hugo. He runs a famous fashion blog here in Brazil and we agreed you could spare the time to answer a couple of his questions”

“Of course”, I said, in Portuguese now, looking at Hugo. “Hello”

Hugo, a short man in a fuchsia suit, turned on the recorder on his phone and started talking in his own flamboyant way, letting his online persona take over. “Queen of the internet, Jenifer Silva, so nice meeting you!”, I laughed. “I have so much to ask, but first of all, you looked amazing in the Shakira music video for the world cup!”

I laughed. “Thank you!”

“About three months ago you became the fourth youngest Oscar winner, and the first Brazilian Oscar winner! Are you used to that yet?”

I smiled. “That’s not something that you ever get used to. Some mornings I actually forget that is a thing that happened. It hits me when I see the golden statue in my dresser, but everything is a blur, it’s almost as if it was a dream”

He laughed. “And of course, you took home most of the best actress in a leading role awards from award season… the press started calling you this year’s Jennifer Lawrence. You know her, you’re shooting a movie together… Did she give you any advice on how to survive the madness?”

“We’re actually just done shooting the movie. Is called Leah, and we’re very proud of it. It premieres in the end of this year. Jennifer is a sweetheart, we met last year, and I was so happy to be cast in a movie with her. We got to work really closely together, which was great, and yes, she had some great advice. Most of it could be resumed by ‘fuck them, do your thing’”

He laughed. “What about the future? You’re due to start shooting a movie soon opposite Chris Pine, and with George Clooney, who is rumored to be getting married soon, do you know anything about that? And are you gonna be in the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show this year too, slaying like last year?”

I smiled, giving Monica and Janine an alarming quick look as he walked into the dangerous questions zone. “I don’t know anything about any of that, actually”

“And of course, you’re here now. Are you enjoying the party? Have you talked to your ex-boyfriend Prince Harry yet? Are you pro or against the protest-“

“Okay!”, Janine, who had Monica translate for her the entire conversation, intervened. “We’re out of time now, thank you, Hugo”

I gave him a polite and smiley blank expression. “Can I get a quick selfie?”

“Of course”, I said, and he got his phone up. We smiled, he took the picture, and Janine pulled me away by the arm.

“I swear to God, is like no one knows the meaning of ‘no personal questions’”, she said.

“I wouldn’t mind answering the protests question”, I said. She let go of my arm to look me upfront.

“You know your contract with Adidas forbids-“

“Forbids me of making political statements, yes”, I finished her line for her. “I wouldn’t have signed that if I knew my country would be in such bad shape by the time I got here. A lot of changes are happening and I can’t do anything to help it!”

“Do you wanna get sued?”, she asked me. “You don’t. Then stay in your lane, Jenifer. Yes?”, she touched her earpiece, turning away to answer a phone call.

I sighed, irritated, and Monica gave me a reassuring smile. I noticed her eyes hovering the room and remembered that with the turmoil of emotions from meeting Harry, I didn’t even notice if Thomas was with him.

“Go”, I told her. “Go say hello, I know you want to”

She looked guilty. “I’m working”

“Monica, when was the last time you saw him?”

“I haven’t been counting…”, I gave her a stern look. “Forty eight days”

I giggled. “Then go say hello to your boyfriend already, we’ll be fine”

“But Janine”

“I’ll handle Janine, I’ll translate. Or my mother. Just go”

She smiled. “Okay, I’ll be just a minute”

“Take your time”, I told her. “Go be with the guy you love”. ‘One of us should’, I thought, nodding my head quickly after the thought. ‘I’m fine’, my mantra resonated in my head. ‘What am I saying? I’m over him’.

“Okay”, Janine said, turning off her call. “Now- Where’s Monica?”

“I’ll translate”, I told her, smiling.

She sighed. “She went to see Hill, didn’t she? She told me they had arrived”

“She’ll be right back”

“Honestly, Jenifer, I love Monica, but-“

“Good! Me too”

“What are we talking about?”, my mother asked, coming back from a trip to the lady’s room.

“How much we love Monica”, I told her. Janine rolled her eyes.

“Oh, me too. Such a lovely girl. Although I do wish she had taken better care of you with your, you know… drinking”, she whispered the word as if just saying it was a sin.

“I pay her to make my life easier, mother, not harder”

“My point exactly”, Janine said. “And with this new relationship of hers she’s traveling even more than she did before to be able to be with Max-“

“Oh, don’t bring Max into this. We knew she had a son when we hired her”

“And that wasn’t a problem before… but now there’s a son and there’s a long distance boyfriend!”

“She and Thom are having a hard time making it work, but they want to try, and I’m not gonna make her choose between her job and him”

“Why not?”

“Because no one should have to!”, I told her, in a low, irritated tone, letting go of her arm to get yet another glass that didn’t stop me from seeing the look she exchanged with my mother.

“…so”, Janine said. “How was it? With, you know…”

“Fine”, I said. “I’m fine. He was… very-“, as I struggled to know how to describe my conversation with Harry, Janine gave the people behind me a stunned look before abruptly interrupting me.

“Don’t forget we have the photo-op tomorrow, we can go do that after your lunch meeting with your charity’s chairwoman”

“I-what? I know”, I was about to tell her if she didn’t want to hear the answer, she shouldn’t have asked the question, when I saw that someone had approached me from behind, and turned around to find my ex-boyfriend standing there, looking just as surprised to see me despite the fact he was the one to come over.

“Hi”, we said, together, and then giggled, together, nervously. This entire night was making me so embarrassed I felt like puking.

“Well, I guess I should go see if they have those little shrimp appetizers”, Janine said. “Vanessa, translate for me?”

“Oh, sure. Excuse us, kids”, my mom said, leaving with Janine, making me so grateful there’d be no witnesses to the awkward convo about to happen.

Harry and I stared at each other for a couple of seconds, both trying to think of what to say. ‘God!’, I thought, ‘someone shoot me right now!’

“You look good”, I said.

He smiled, looking down at his tuxedo and touching his bowtie. “Well, you…”, he looked me from my Bonnibel by Beston Women’s sandals, up to my long and white Zuhair Murad dress, to my eyes, then sighed.

“Thanks”, I said, smiling, a bit breathless. I wanted to say something, so I talked more about the dress. “It’s American. Not the dress, the dress is… well, It’s Zuhair Murad, so technically it is Lebanese. What I meant is, the dress is white. Clearly. I have to wear soft colors so I don’t look Brazilian. Which is weird, considering, you know, I am Brazilian. So you could argue whatever I wear, I still look Brazilian, because that’s what I-“, I sighed, realizing I was babbling – but that now I had to finish my train of thought. “…am. But the-“, ‘where was I going with this?’, I thought. “The dress, yes. The dress is supposed to detach me from that image. Because I guess everyone would assume I’d only wear bright colors just because I’m here. And my management team thinks it’s more profitable for me if people relate me to America and not Brazil when they see me so they have me wearing a lot of white and pastel tones these days”, I laughed, nervously. “Which is ironic considering they really wanted me to wear blue to the Oscars in February, and it was my idea to change the dress last minute. I had told Oscar de La Renta I was gonna wear his dress and then I didn’t, which in the fashion world is a huge offense, because, you know… nothing is set in stone, but is really good for designers to have their dresses in award shows like this, especially if you’re nominated because it means more exposure for them. But when the day came, there was this beautiful Stephane Rolland on my mind, and then it hit me. I’m supposed to wear that dress! And everyone told me I shouldn’t, because is really revealing and stuff, but I said ‘screw it’, and I wore it. And I don’t regret wearing it because I stuck with my gut and that’s what matters, and all the fashion critics seemed to be pretty positive about it, so all was well”, I sighed, deeply, out of breath. “And, you know, you can get into this conversation whenever you want...”, I joked. “Which I’m sure you will as soon as I stop talking”

He laughed to the ground. “This… this is awkward”

“Wow”, I said, sarcastic. “Thank you for your contribution, Harry, if I’d known I’d keep talking”. He laughed again.

“So you’re an aunt”, he said.

“Yes”, I smiled; glad for a topic I was comfortable with. “Arthur. He’s… perfect”

He smiled. “I saw the pictures… Congratulations”

“Thank you… you… saw? Pictures?”

He smiled confident, but I noticed the blood rushing to his cheeks. “I don’t have an Instagram, but I do get internet in London. I googled you”, he shrugged.

“You googled me?”

He seemed to instantly regret his words. “Not like that. Not in a creepy way. I just… when I heard something in the news, I googled you to get details of-“, he sighed, looking at me. “Wow, there’s no way to make that sound normal, is there?”

I laughed. “Don’t worry, I get it…”, I sighed, wondering if he had any way of knowing the embarrassing amount of time I had googled him.

“I went to America!”, he changed the subject, making me look up at him. “Memphis. In, uh, May. For a wedding. Guy got married. Not a guy, the Guy. That’s his name, Guy. Well, I guess technically, he is, too, a guy. It was good, quite… pretty”

I smiled. “I heard about that actually… actually I read that your lookalike was in town too, pretending to be you and no one could tell the difference”

He looked frustrated. “Yes, that’s… happening”, he said. “Did you hear about the reality show?”

“If I heard about it?! I’m so gonna watch it!”

He laughed, blushing, “Oh, don’t to that-“

“Oh, I am”

We let the laughter die out, then he looked serious. “I’m sorry about the…”, he said, and looked like he regretted the words as soon as they came out. “… you know, the... drunk dials… about, what? A month after I left?”

“Right”, I said, unable to hide the smile in my face. “It’s… fine”

“You told me to lose your number… clearly I should have”, we chuckled.

“We’ve all been there”, I said. “If it makes you feel any better I got drunk a number of times after we broke up too, it’s part of the ‘moving on’ process”

“But you didn’t left an embarrassing number of voice messages on my phone”

“Well, I’ve always been classier than you”. We laughed.

Of course he didn’t know I copied his number in a note on my phone and deleted it from my contacts, knowing I’d never be able to dial his number or copy and paste it while drunk. You learn a few tricks after drunk calls. But Harry didn’t know this.

Harry didn’t know that I had to google him on my phone most nights when I couldn’t stop thinking about him, sorting through tabloid headlines, ignoring the ones that were so obviously fake, until I found the real bits of information. He didn’t know I kept finding comfort in the fact I already knew what they were about, that I still knew what he was doing. That I still knew him. He didn’t know the gut wrenching feeling I got when the headlines stopped making any sense.

Harry didn’t know I had to force myself to put on makeup, and a dress, and go out. And how I let cute guys flirt with me, only after a while trying to flirt right back. He didn’t know how long it took to be able to say yes when they asked if I wanted to go back to their apartment. And to be able to have sex again, for fun; or how long it took for me to stop thinking about him while I did it. He didn’t know I missed being able to sleep with someone merely because the opportunity presented itself.

He didn’t know it took all of me not to call him back after the drunk voice messages. He didn’t know I still had them saved on my phone and I kept listening to them whenever I felt sad because his voice made me feel better somehow. Harry didn’t know whenever something happened, I imagined the conversation that we were supposed to have if I could tell him about it.

He didn’t know how long it took me to enjoy the life I had, because I might not have him anymore, but I still had so much. Like the week I spent back in Manhattan for the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show, hanging out with the other models, making friends and going out. Walking out on that catwalk as if the world was my oyster and I wasn’t scared of it. Holding Taylor’s hand as she sang and we walked up and down. Posing at the end of the catwalk picturing every single one of my fears at the other end of those camera lenses, staring at them with the victorious look I had earned. After I felt comfortable enough, I even managed to picture Harry, and I wink, like I had promised I would.

I went out with the girls afterwards, and enjoyed the introductions to the cute male models they knew. And I let one of them take me out for drinks, and I let the media say whatever they wanted, and didn’t care. Not one bit. And as November made its way through us, bringing the cold and the award season, Wild & Free got nominations for the Hollywood Film Awards before it even premiered! And Harry didn’t know how I rejoiced with my cast and team for the awards we took home – including mine, for best actress.

“It’s just the beginning!”, Richard said, smiling, as he hugged me that night.

And it was, because when December came, the smaller award ceremonies came as well. And I was announced as the best actress awarded by the New York Film Critics Circle, and the National Board of Review of Motion Pictures.

Harry didn’t know that when I traveled Europe with the cast of Wild & Free, avoiding to think of the irony that I was in London just when he was in the South Pole, we were actually using all of our energy trying not to get too worried about the award nominations. And when they came out, he didn’t know how we celebrated! Time and time again, crazier each time, whenever we saw our names or the names of our production and writing team in the nomination’s lists… Harry didn’t know the overwhelming feeling of validation and accomplishment that came over me when I saw my name in every list. As the press tour ended, we went home for the holidays, waiting for the time to go to the ceremonies and find out if we would get to take those awards home with us.

Harry didn’t know that was the easiest time to pretend I was over him.

Going home for Christmas, it was harder. It was harder pretending there wasn’t something so big in my mind. It was a mixture of emotions, listening to the same patronizing questions about my career, feeling like everything could be about to change, waiting on the ceremonies and the big Oscar nomination as everyone took turns letting me know how much better I was off without Harry. ‘Is this it?’, the question constantly in my mind. ‘Is this my big break?!’.

Harry didn’t know though, that it felt like putting my war paint on. The moment I set foot back in Los Angeles and ran to meetings with Richard and Janine to plan my award season strategy, I felt like the old me again. Planning, making appointments, knowing what would happen and when, planning what to say and not to, dreaming about the speeches I could maybe have the chance to do, researching new fashion collections and sending pictures of my favorite dresses to Rachel Zoe so she could get them for me to wear. Harry didn’t he was in my mind less and less as I kept myself busy, as I reached for all the things I wanted, wondering if I could get them.

I flew my parents in from Brazil, this time determined to bring them with me, so if I won at least one of my nominations, maybe they’d know why I’m doing what I’m doing: because I’m good.

Despite the preparation, there were only three things I was absolutely sure of during award season: one, I never knew where I was going when I got into a car, no matter how many times Monica had reminded me beforehand. I always had to ask again. There were too many interviews, too many talk show appearances, too many talk show skits, too much to do and remember and at the end of the day, the itinerary was not a priority. Two, I never unpacked. I flew back and forth from New York to Los Angeles, to Vegas, to Miami, to Los Angeles, and to Europe, and back to New York for a day before Los Angeles. There was always a party I had to be seen at, always an interview live in another state, and I just found it easier to stop pretending I had the time to unpack. Three, I always had a glass in my hands. This is why I had to let my parents know that the daughter they had raised in a perfectly Christian environment was now an avid consumer of alcohol – because I just couldn’t keep doing the ‘it’s just water’ trick through season award. It was stressful, and I was stressed and constantly ready to fight someone, and I needed to not have to lie about what was in my glass the whole time. They didn’t like it, but let it go after a while.

When the first award ceremony came, the Golden Globes, it brought back a world of memories from the past year’s ceremony, when I won my first big award, in a television category. I remembered texting Harry through it, and coming home to Princess Madeleine thinking I was his girlfriend. My speech that time, the one that went viral and turned me into a meme, still hunted me. This year, however, I was sitting closer to the stage, on a table with my cast-mates and directors and producers, and my dates were my parents. There was no breakdown in the bathroom, just alcohol and my very unrest leg, shaking under the table the whole night long. This time, I wasn’t some girl from a teen show who got a special part in Game of Thrones and scored a lucky award. This time, I was one of the most frequent nominees of that award season.

This time, I had the cameras on me almost constantly, cutting from the ceremony to my reaction at any give point – which meant my image brought them more audience. This time I wasn’t wearing a basic, black jumpsuit. This time I was wearing a Paolo Sebastian silver, glittery, ethereal dress. This time – and all the times in every ceremony for those two months - the hosts were making jokes about me or my role or my movie, and whatever personal thing I had going on – often about Victoria’s Secret, Harry or David, which meant I was a popular subject. The jokes were often in the range of:

[Insert highly enunciated host voice] ‘Jenifer Silva is here, of course’, pause for the applause and a close up on my humbled, shy face. ‘Although after her role in Game of Thrones and her latest gig in the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show, I was expecting her to show up with a lot less clothes…’, cue picture of me in the Victoria’s Secret catwalk, to the whistles of the crowd, and my blushing, smiling face. ‘Talk about a versatile actress, am I right?’

‘Jenifer Silva is, of course, nominated tonight for her role in Wild & Free’, pause for the applause and close up, ‘looking as beautiful as a princess, isn’t she?’, cue wink from the host, energized applause, and another close up.

‘Jenifer Silva is here tonight’, applause and close up, ‘To put it simple, this Jenifer is this year’s last year’s Jennifer Lawrence, she’s winning everything and looking gorgeous at only 23 years old...’, cue applause. ‘Somewhere in Manhattan David Cobb is probably regretting his life choices’, cue big applause, close up on me, who had to mask my laughter with a drink of champagne flute, which still didn’t mask the smugness on my face. The two pictures together – with the line, and my reaction – went viral, which this time did not bother me one bit.

So the Golden Globes moved along, and things happened way too fast, as one moment I was laughing at a joke, and the next they were announcing my category, and Tom Hanks was reading: “The winner is… Jenifer Silva!”

Cue my surprised face as I felt the air scape me. My shaking leg froze. My father jumped in the air from his chair, screaming and clapping, getting laughs from everyone around and everyone watching. My mother hugged me, as surprised as I was, and I made my way to the stage – much steadier this time around. When I got there, with my jaw hurting from smiling so much with my mouth open, and got my second Golden Globe from Tom Hanks, I stared at the familiar auditorium, just as intimidating as it was the year before.

“I need you to know, and this is very important”, I told them, “A lot has happened this past year, but I still have no idea what I’m doing here”, and I broke into a weird crying laughter, hearing the auditorium laugh with me.

Harry didn’t know I had never felt so free of him and so confident that I would be just fine.

Time after time, week after week, it went on like that, and we fell into a familiar routine: pre-party cocktails, mingling with other nominees, introducing my parents to famous people and watching them freak out. Wake up early, be so nervous I can’t eat, try on the dress, put on makeup and get my hair done, drive to the red carpet doing shots of vodka to calm down. Give interviews, answer the same unimaginative questions about the movie, try and use the exposure to shed some light on the cancer fight and how people could help. Sit down for award ceremony, be happy for my friends winning, tweeting on the breaks with my opinions and congratulations, cracking jokes when possible, try to survive until they announce my category.

‘And the winner is… Jenifer Silva’, cue the air escaping my lungs, and my father jumping up and freaking out making everyone smile, and my mother crying making me cry, and my shaky walk to get my award, thinking ‘I didn’t lose! I didn’t lose!’ after having spent so long trying to prepare psychologically for a loss.

I held the award, went for the microphone, tried not to trip on my dress, and heard my own shaky voice as I said thank you. Then, walk out, take pictures, answer questions in the press room, give interviews backstage and party hard all night long – in a different dress, of course -, and get ready for the next round, about a week from then, while I tried to pretend I could focus on my normal work.

Every single one of these steps was of vital importance, and you couldn’t miss one. And I didn’t.

Four days after the Golden Globes the Oscar nominations were supposed to be announced at a formal press conference at five in the morning. Everyone in the Wild & Free team was excited. My parents were cautiously eager. Richard, Janine, Monica, the Artchet children, Selena, Taylor, Ally, Lucas, Livia, and pretty much everyone else I knew was practically celebrating already.

Meanwhile, Harry didn’t know that Entertainment Weekly published an article called ‘Oscar Bait – this year’s movies that are trying too hard’, naming Wild & Free the type of drama that is ‘too hysterical’, and most likely made exclusively to ‘try and snatch a nomination’, which is why, on the author’s opinion, it ‘most likely wouldn’t’. ‘Jenifer Silva’, he wrote, ‘is a twenty-three year old overrated child-star whose little knowledge of motherhood or grief translates into her poor performance’. That was the most negative critic Wild & Free had gotten to date and it kept resonating in my head at such a loud volume I couldn’t even sleep that night.

I rolled over in my bed in my Los Angeles house until about four-thirty before giving up and getting up. My parents were in the guest bedroom, as was my brother (who came to see at least one award show before heading back to be with his wife as they got closer to her due date). I took a shower, had coffee, and went to sit by the pool, overlooking the city and waiting for five in the morning to hit so I could learn my fate. Harry didn’t know I spent some huge amount of time staring at my phone considering very seriously if I should call him. ‘He’d understand’, I thought. ‘Harry would know’. But I had told him to lose my number, and it wouldn’t be fair of me to call him.

When it was almost five, someone opened my door, turning the lights up and screaming ‘rise and shine! It’s Oscar nomination day!’. I got up, and walked back inside, only to find Richard, all of his four kids (Hunter had moved back to Los Angeles), Janine, Monica, her son Max, Selena, Taylor and Alli (these last two whom I didn’t even know were in the country), all walking in and making themselves at home after giving me a hug.

“What is happening?!”, I asked, seeing my parents were also up and making everyone coffee.

“It’s Oscar nomination day”, Payton, now an increasingly pretty, almost fifteen year old, said.

“Yeah, you can’t celebrate alone”, Alessa said.

“When did you even get here?”, I asked her.

“Good morning, internet. It’s almost five in the morning, you know what that means”, Asher had his youtuber voice on, speaking to his camera. He put an arm around my shoulder to film us both. “It’s Oscar nomination day”

“Guys, I told you I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I’ll probably not even get nominated. Is not a big deal!”

“It’s beginning!”, my brother said, and everyone shhhed at the same time.

I gave up, and sat down. Soon there were two arms around me – Taylor’s and my mother’s – and I felt claustrophobic, so I got up and decide to just stand up near the TV so I could hear what was being said instead of the stats Janine was telling whomever wanted to hear.

“If she wins she will, of course, be the first Brazilian to ever win an Academy Award, the first Latin American actress to win in the leading role category, and fourth youngest actress in history!”

Janine’s words echoed in my mind until they began announcing my category (‘first Brazilian, first Latin American actress, youngest in history’), and I found myself overwhelmed with how much I wanted this.

“The nominees for Best Actress in a Leading Role are…”, our room was filled with shouting of ‘it’s happening!’, and ‘shhh!’. “Amy Adams, American Hustle… Sandra Bullock, Gravity”

“Oh, that was a great movie”, Asher said, and got about ten sshhhs.

“Judi Dench, Philomena”, I closed my eyes. ‘That was such a great movie. She’s so great. I hope she wins…’. My legs felt weak. I wanted to crawl up in a ball and sleep for a week straight. “Meryl Streep,”, the sound of ‘ugh’ in the room was so loud no one even heard for what movie Meryl had been nominated. It was a mixture of a positive ugh (‘Ugh, she’s amazing!’) with a negative one (‘Ugh, it’ll be hard to beat her!’). How many names had it been? Was it over already? Could I finally go to sleep to pretend I don’t care? “And finally…”

The world was quiet in anticipation.

“Jenifer Silva, Wild & Free”

I breathed as if I had just come up for air after almost drowning. I started crying so fast I almost didn’t feel it. I had Taylor, Selena and Alli’s arms around me and it was like I had gone deaf, because I knew they were all screaming and celebrating, but I could only hear the voice in my head: I did it!

I had never wanted to call Harry so bad.

January 18th brought the SAG awards, and the SAG awards were important. One, because the winners were chosen by fellow actors. Two, because there were big chances – although it wasn’t a certainty - that the same people who won SAG awards, would win Academy awards.

I took my brother and my father to the SAG Awards, my mother choose to watch from home and give my brother a chance, since that was the only one he could go to.

We sat through the same routine, except this time my brother was live tweeting/instagramming/snap-chatting the whole thing, which made him pretty internet-famous. Jokes. Skits. Speeches. Alcohol. Friends winning. Happiness. Twitter. I probably won’t win. It’s okay. It was a good award season. I got the Critics Choice. And The New York Film Critic award. And the Hollywood Film award. And the National Board of Review of Motion Pictures award. And the Golden Globe. That’s good enough. That’s more than enough. That’s amazing. I’m so proud of myself. I’m okay. I’m-

“And the winner is… Jenifer Silva”

My father jumps. My brother is filming himself giving me a kiss in the cheek for a vine. I’m in shock. I can’t cry or laugh, I just have my mouth open in shock as I hug Jonathan, my costar. I walk to the stage, trying not to trip on my trembling legs or my Krikor Jabotian golden dress or my heels. I hug the presenter and get the statue of the dark gray naked man and take a deep breath before the microphone trying not to cry, trying to get through the speech without crying. Finding new ways of expressing my gratitude to the people who gave me this award, who cast me, who acted alongside me, who raised me, who took care of me. Finding new ways of making people realize we need better research for childhood cancer. My voice breaks, I clean my tears, I thank the fans, and say goodnight, overwhelmed, thanking the stars because I still haven’t run out of luck! Pictures. Press room. Interviews. Happiness. After-party. And start the countdown for the next one: BAFTA awards.

The Bafta was awkward. One, it was in England. Two, Harry was from England. Three, his brother was attending. Literally, his brother was going. He was presenting an award for the actress who once portrayed his grandmother, he’d be watching first row. Do I say hello? Do I make a joke about it if I win? Do I dress more modest?

I arrived early. Did some talk shows – the same as I had done the last time around, still avoiding the sneaky mentions of Harry. Then I put on a dress, bright, edgy red that matched my ‘fuck it’ attitude, and headed to the red carpet with my parents ready to do it all again.

So I heard the monologues and the jokes, this time in British accents, a few that I didn’t get, because I wasn’t British, and I avoided looking at where William was sitting as most as I could. Then, finally, they announced my category, and I tried to breathe the nervousness stomachache away, as someone in a beautiful accent read an envelope that said that the winner was Jenifer Silva.

It was Europe, but my father still jumped in the air, arms up as if he was celebrating a Brazilian football goal. My mother hugged me quick, and I made my way as composed as I could, trying not to trip, or look at William, and failing – he was up on his feet, along with everyone else, giving me a standing ovation, it was hard not to look, and smile.

I smiled in front of the microphone, remembering the last time I was there. I thanked the director, Jonathan, the kids, Mrs. Thompson, I talked about cancer, and then I waited to thank the academy last, remembering the last time they had decided to nominate me for that honor:

“You know… when I was sixteen years old, the amazing people behind tonight decided to nominate me for a Bafta for a supporting role”, pause for applause. “I was young, school was hard, I barely had any friends, acting was impossible, I didn’t understand what I was doing, what was right or wrong, I felt… used, and lost and I had no idea what would become of me…”, I felt the tears accumulating on my eyes. “Then I made a movie, and you nominated me for this. And I got into a plane, and came here with my mother, who’s sitting right there, and we traveled around London, and came here. They read my name along with the names of other incredible actresses that I could not believe were even in the same room as me, let alone the same category!”, I laughed through the tears, nervous. “And I didn’t win then, but I went home feeling like that was the most amazing experience I had ever had. I felt validated, I felt important, I felt talented. I felt as if I could do this, as if I could amount to something”, me voice broke, and I took a deep breath, drying out a tear. “And tonight, tonight you did the same thing. You put me in a category with the amazing Cate Blanchett, the incomparable Amy Adams, the wonderful Sandra Bullock and the incredible Judi Dench, and you made me feel so incredible, that is hard to remember any time in the past where life wasn’t amazing!”, pause, for applause and for breath. “So to the British Academy of Film and Television, from the sixteen year old girl whom you helped not give up, thank you so much!”, I held the tears as much as I could, and smiled at them, before leaving.

Award season was just that: an emotional roller coaster. Amongst the madness, life went on. I went to auditions, and call backs, and as my Sidney Sheldon movie got pushed over to the second semester, I was cast in a low budget, indie film with Jennifer Lawrence. My mother had to go back to Brazil to help Lucas and Livia as their due date approached. Harry was spotted with another blonde in London. There were rumors I was dating Trevor Mock – the male model. I woke up everyday reminding myself of every award I had won – seven, at this point-, smiling at them in my dresser. Trevor came to one of the after parties to see me. We had dinner. People took pictures. Harry took his blonde to see a musical in the West End.

But Harry didn’t know then that when I put on my puffy, big Oscar de La Renta gown on that Oscar Sunday, I realized it didn’t feel right. It was too expected, too princess. I stared at the unclaimed pink roses amongst the sea of flowers I had been sent, and decided I was no princess, and didn’t want to feel like one. I wanted to feel like me – the girl who didn’t fit in that world.

So I went on game mode. I gave orders for Monica to call Rachel Zoe to get me the other dress. I called Oscar de La Renta personally, and explained I’d be honored to wear that dress some other time – the MET ball, maybe. I waited and waited until Rachel herself showed up, with the dress, and new shoes and jewelry. Which she didn’t give me until I had listened to her speech about how that was not an Oscar dress, and it was too edgy for American viewers, and it did have the wow factor, and would stand out, but it could potentially be a disaster.

“Please listen to her, Jenifer”, Janine, who had showed up just in time after checking in with her other important client – Jennifer Lawrence -, said. “We are this close to scoring an exclusivity contract with Oscar de la Renta, wear his dress!”

“Guys”, I told them. “If I lose tonight, I want to be wearing the right dress”

“Look”, my father said. “Parakeet, I’m not gonna pretend I know what any of this is about… but what dress do you really want?”

“The white one”

“Really?”, he asked, “’Cause that one is so revealing…”, I gave him a look. “Fine. That one. Wear that one”

My dress was like a white blazer on the top, with a huge cleavage, that melted into a robe-like skirt around my waist until my mid-thigh, with a golden adornment, and opened up in a long trail, leaving most of my legs visible. Rachel gave me nude Louboutin heels, and a new set of jewels, and we left my hair the same way – balancing out the dress. I left my house feeling like I should: myself. Because I might not have fit in his world, but it was because I was used to mine, where you’re supposed to stand out.

My father squeezed my hand when we arrived, before we left the car. “I’m proud of you, no matter what”, he told me. “And if at any moment you change your mind, just let me know and I can get you out of here in ten minutes”. I smiled, grateful, and nodded, before taking in a deep breath and knocking on the window so Monica knew she could open the door.

I heard the sound of the flashes before I saw any of it, and the shouting from the people who came to see the arrivals behind a security rail across the street. I waved at them, and made sure my skirt was okay, and my boobs were covered, then I walked towards where Monica directed me, ignoring the knot on my stomach, and all the directions from which I could hear my name echoing as people realized I was there.

I answered questions on the red carpet, about how that night was exciting for more than one reason. Livia, whose due date was three days before, was being induced today. The doctors didn’t want to wait any longer, but somewhere in a hospital in Brazil, she was putting it off until the ceremony was over, so they wouldn’t miss it. My little brat of a nephew or niece was trying to steal my thunder and it such a me-move that I actually felt proud.

I posed for pictures on the red carpet staring at the cameras giving them the confident look and smile I knew I would want to see when I looked at those pictures later on. Most importantly, I imagined Adam, or David, seeing those pictures and I smiled at the lenses as if I was telling them to suck it.

I posed with my father, who did the pose I taught him, with a hand in his pocket and the other on my back, and gave the crazy photographers his best smile, often whispering some nonsensical joke to me so I’d ‘smile with my teeth, like you’re supposed to’.

We were sitting in first row, but in the corner left, near the side of the stage, not center. Which was good. Less pressure.

“Welcome to the final ceremony of this year’s award season, or as the kids are calling it these days, Jenifer Season”, Ellen DeGeneres, who was hosting the ceremony that year, said at the beginning of the show, fitting in that role as she fit everywhere: perfectly. “Jennifer Lawrence won everything last year, Jenifer Silva is winning everything this year, and together they’re plotting to take over the industry”, she said, making us laugh. “Yet no one seems to mind, because they’re so sweet”

She mentioned amongst us, we had made a total of 1400 films, warming my heart for being part of an industry that was so huge. “Fourteen hundred films…”, Ellen said. “And you have gone to a total of six years of college”. We laughed. “I’m kidding. Kids, stay in school!”, she joked. “I’m sure these people went to college, I mean”, she looked around, before resting her eyes at me. A camera turned to me and I had my face on the screens. “Jenifer Silva, you went to college, right?”

I made a face, getting into the joke. “Well… One semester”

“One semest-“, she said. “Well, six years and a half. Thank you for your contribution, Jenifer”, more laughter, and she went on to mock Amy Adams’s lack of formal education, before mentioning Meryl Streep who had been nominated for an academy award eighteen times, making it hard for me to forget exactly what I was up against.

Instead of seeing it as a challenge, I decided to see it as a compliment. Someone decided that I was just as good as Meryl fucking Streep. That thought got me through the night. That and the complimentary drinks Monica brought me during breaks.

Wild & Free lost the award for Best Writing Adapted Screenplay for 12 Years a Slave (well deserved), but we won the one for Best Cinematography, and I got to stand up and applaud as our producers accepted it. We lost Best Supporting Actress to Lupita Nyong’o (also well deserved), and Jared Leto won Best Supporting Actor.

Before I knew what was happening, Janine and Monica had come to ask if I was okay during a break. “Yeah, why?”, I asked.

“Your category is next!”, they said. And I felt like all of my organs were dropping inside of me. The break was almost over, and they had to go. I wanted to throw up, but I gulped, forcing myself to sit up straight. I focused on my loser face, and on the fact I was just twenty-three. I had time. It’s Meryl Streep. It’s fine.

And then I entertained a thought, on the secluded quiet of my mind, as the video with the name announcement of the nominees was playing short scenes form their movies. ‘What if I win an Oscar tonight?’. The melodic voice said my name, and my clip started playing, so I shook my head, getting out of my trance.

My clip was a scene in which my character is trying to keep her family’s life together, and she’s walking around the house, in a frenetic pace, moving things around fast, yelling at her husband that things were in the wrong place. He says ‘I know, I know’, and she turns to him livid, angry at so much more than just a messy house. ‘Do not tell me that you know!’, she screams. The clip ends and the image cuts to a close up of me, looking intense as I watched it. I breathe in, trying to relax, and smile. In a millisecond, my father, by my side, leans in so he can be in the frame, showing two thumbs up and smiling widely as he did. I laughed at him, blushing, but so glad he was there.

“And the Oscar goes to…”, Daniel Day-Lewis, handsome in his silver hair, says as he opened the envelope. In a moment of pure honesty, alone with my thoughts, I knew it: I was fine. “Jenifer Silva, Wild & Free”. Then, I was great.

Loud applause fills the place as my father jumps from his seat, hands in the air, shouting of joy. This time I had no time to prepare or to try and choke back the tears, I broke down crying, covering my mouth in shock with my two hands as the biggest cliché anyone could have come up with. Everyone around me was standing, but I couldn’t see much else through the tears. The music from our score was playing, and as I forced myself up, my father quickly wrapped his arms around me and pulled me up, spinning me around as if I was a child again, making me laugh. He kissed my cheek, before letting me go, and I hugged Jonathan.

I made my way to the stairs, trying to steady me legs. ‘Don’t trip!’, I thought. There was a staff member to help me climb the stairs, and I was glad for it, and for my dress being short in the front. I walked the stage up to Daniel Day-Lewis and I didn’t know what to focus on. His handsome face, the envelope that I wanted to check – ‘does it really say my name?’ -, or the big, shiny golden statue that he handed over to me. It was heavier that I ever thought. I got the envelope, I guess he said congratulations, and walked to the microphone as I looked at it.

I giggled, before looking up. It read ‘Jenifer Silva – Wild & Free’.

“They spelled my name right”, I said, my crying voice startling me again. I was gonna start to speak when I felt it – like in slow motion – the metal slipping between my fingers as my Oscar – my Oscar! – fell to the ground in a loud noise.

There was a gasp from the audience, before laughter, and all I could do was cover my face with my hands and my envelope in frustration. ‘WHY?!’. I looked up, as people were applauding, still laughing a bit. Daniel had picked the award for me was handing it over again. I held it, tighter this time, with both hands, as if it was a baby. I checked it for scratches.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”, I apologized to the Oscar. “I’m so sorry”, I raised my head again, giggling. “It’s fine, it’s not broken!”, they laughed, and I felt at easy. ‘I’m fine’, I thought. I took a deep breath, trying to get on with my speech, and not to focus too much on the fact that I was making an Oscar speech. I spoke slowly, trying not to cough or have a meltdown, trying to keep my accent away, trying to stay whole as I filled with more joy than I ever thought I could get. “Thank you Charles Leonard for”, I remembered the Entertainment Weekly article, and allowed myself a victorious smile, “for believing this twenty-three year old overrated child-star’s little knowledge of motherhood and grief could translate well into the story you were trying to tell. Thank you, Jonathan Groff, for being the sweetest on screen husband. You have made this intense journey lighter and at times even funnier, and I love you for it. Thank you to our unbeatable crew, and to the talented children we got to act with every day, I don’t know what you’ll choose to do with your lives, but I’m sure you’ll be amazing, because you are amazing!”. I took a deep breath, and the thought came back to my mind: ‘I have an Oscar!’. I laughed, nervous, and looked at my father, who was smiling. “I wanna thank my brother, my sister, and my soon to be born nephew or niece, who’s not even alive yet, and already owns my heart. I wanna thank my parents”, my voice broke before I could do anything to help it. “Because I know their only goal has only ever been my happiness, even when it meant to be away from me. I love you. I miss you every day”. I swiped away a tear, looking away from my father to try and control myself. “I wanna thank Richard Artchet, his four ridiculously great kids, Janine Merchant, Monica and Max Williams, for giving me a home away from home, and a family when I was alone”, I coughed, trying to steady my crying voice. “You know I would not have survived this without you. I love you”, I sighed. “And if I could, I would like to acknowledge two educators right now”, I said. I had been thinking about this for a while, about what I would say. And I knew I wanted to let people know about the two people who mostly shaped who I was as a person – the good and the bad – at that moment. “When I was eleven years old, I had just moved to California, and I barely knew the language, and I had no friends, and I was very shy. My English teacher, the wonderful Ms. Fleming, saw how much I was struggling and brought me to the drama club she coordinated. They were putting up a production of Newsies, which was met with some disagreement by the students, who were mostly girls. Ms. Fleming cast girls for the male roles trying to teach us that talent does not see gender”, they applauded. “And so I was cast as an eleven year old girl version of Jack Kelly in the 2001 winter show in an elementary school in Sacramento. I had no idea what I was doing, but I did it, and when I came backstage from singing Santa Fe on opening night, Ms. Fleming put her hand on my shoulder and told me: Jenifer, I don’t know what you’re gonna do with your life. But if you decide you want to keep on doing this, I know that one day”, my voice cracked again, and I was glad the acting awards had more time for speeches because I had to speak slowly so they could understand me through the tears. “…you’ll be thanking me while you accept some fancy award on TV! So, thank you Ms. Fleming, for seeing a student who needed you”, they applauded again, and I got ready for my big finale, steading my voice. “The second educator was a college professor, who was the most uncaring, misogynistic, asshole I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. For all the months he was in my life he never wasted one opportunity to diminish my accomplishments, my talent and my ambitions. Expressing time and time again how the things I had achieved were directly due to my looks. And that was all I was bound to get, since I was not, to quote from him, the type of actress people gave awards to”, they interrupted with applause, seeing where I was going with this, and I kept a stern look on my face, with a victorious grin I was not able to hide anymore. I took my time with the ending, enunciating carefully, staring straight ahead. “So tonight, I wanna thank the Academy for proving him wrong and for providing me with the perfect opportunity to tell him, wherever he is, that he can kiss my Oscar-winning ass.”

I held my Oscar with one hand, raising it high in a victory sign, and smiled directly ahead as I saw the entire audience stand to applaud. I smiled smug until I couldn’t handle the sight of all those people standing up to applaud me and laughed widely before spinning around in my white dress and taking the arm Mr. Day-Lewis offered me to escort me backstage, feeling like I had all I could have ever wished for.

That was the last time I truly wished Harry was there.

Afterwards, I was too busy to remember how much I missed him. I took the photos backstage, and at the end of the ceremony with the other winners. I gave interviews about being the first Latin American actress to win in the leading role category. My father rushed to meet me, he interrupted an interview to hug me, making me laugh until I cried. The interviewer asked him how he felt and talked about how in between being a electrician, and having to move to the United States to try and give us a better life, he never thought in a million years that would ever happen. He cried, and I cried, and that was just another face of that award season that we heard about for months to come. We went to the after parties – when I got a call from my brother letting us know Arthur had been born. And only a few hours later, on the next day, I did a Ellen interview and she showed me a montage of all the times in every ceremony my father had jumped in the air after they announced I had won. She showed me the twitter reactions to my speech (#kissmyass was trending for days with people sharing stories of adults who didn’t believe in them), and that was still the beginning.

I took a week off to be with my family in Brazil, bonding with my nephew, but after that, I had to go back to being who I was now: the first Brazilian to ever win an Academy award, the first Latin American actress to ever win on a leading actress category and the fourth youngest woman ever. I started to feel like I was enough for myself, and that maybe I could do this without Harry. So I gave an interview to a Brazilian reporter, did shoots for magazines covers, did more in-depth interviews than ever before in my life, and headed into my new projects as an award-winning actress. I could stand by myself. I could do it. I was strong.

I was fine.

I shot a movie – Leah. I read Harry was in the country for a wedding, but I was in Utah when he was in Memphis. I told Trevor we weren’t even exclusive so I didn’t think it was a good idea for him to come to Brazil for the world cup with me to meet my family. And when we sat on a plane to come to Brazil – me, Monica, Janine and Eddy -, I already felt like I was the person I wanted to be. I was getting informed about the protests against the World Cup and tweeting about it – to the displeasure of Adidas. I was talking to a publisher who wanted me to think about having my memories published, and I thought I could help other girls try and realize when they were being manipulated and used. I had a meeting with a company about designing a fashion line for their label. I was shooting a movie with Chris Pine and George Clooney in a month. I had a hot guy I was sort of seeing. I made an audition for a Netflix show. Everyone wanted an interview, and a cover, and a quote. Brands wanted me to talk about their products. Things were good. Things were great. I had everything I wanted. Which is why I was fine when Monica informed me that Harry would be in Brazil at the same time as I would.

“He’s only there for a week”, she said. “Then he’ll go to Chile, and he’s going to one of the Brazil games you’re not going to, so that’s lucky. I guess you’ll only be in the same city in São Paulo, but what are the chances you’ll run into each other?”

What were the chances? What were the chances the British ambassador in Brazil would invite me to the dinner in his house in honor of the Queen’s birthday? What were the chances I would be so eager to prove to everyone that I was fine that I would say yes to going? What were the chances I would spend the entire night regretting that decision? What were the chances that when I saw Harry my heart would start beating so fast that I wondered if I could go on cardiac arrest? What were the chances I was melting inside and using all of my energy trying to avoid the realization that I so obviously wanted to kiss him?

I didn’t know what to say anymore. Or what to do. I didn’t think I could keep on pretending I was fine with how different everything was now, but I felt like I had to. Ten months had passed since I last saw him, in those ten months he had walked the South Pole, gotten a new office job, and was planning a huge sports event to help wounded veterans all in his own. And he was seeing a blonde. I was an Oscar-winner whose name everyone knew, and everyone was waiting to see go into a down spiral. I was officially out of reach; too wrong for him, and I owed it to him to not complicate things anymore, so he could keep moving on. And I owed it to myself, so I could do the same. I was fine without him, and I didn’t need anymore complications in my life. So I said goodbye.

“It’s just… I have, you know… things. I have to go to the mall tomorrow”, I immediately regretted the ridiculous excuse. “So I should go…”

He nodded. His tone said goodbye, but his eyes didn’t leave mine. “It was, uh… good seeing you”

“You too”, I said, smiling maybe a bit too much. “Bye”, I looked into his blue eyes, realizing what I had now, what I had always wanted – the career, the awards – was the reason I couldn’t be with him. I’m too known. I’m too big. Harry needs someone like the blonde he was seen with – someone normal, that no one has ever heard of. Someone who could shape her image after his if it ever came to it, without the amount of baggage I had in my name. I remembered Payton’s song, about the two stars who shined too bright on their own and exploded when they wanted to be together, realizing I am shining too much now.

I started to walk away, every fiber of my being complaining, asking for more of him. I turned back, feeling I needed to make something clear – for both of us.

“I’m fine”, I said. He looked at me, happy to see I was still there. His smile almost made me forget what I was gonna say. “I’m fine. I’m really good”, he nodded.

‘And yet…’, I thought. ‘Here I am feeling like nothing is okay because I don’t have this stupid ginger in my life anymore…’

He looked down, smiling, before gulping and looking at me. He opened his mouth, and closed it, a couple of times, and I waited for him to say something.

He didn’t, and I left. ‘I’m fine!’, I thought.

I found my mother, Janine and Monica, and we said goodbye to the hosts before heading to the garage. Eddy went ahead to tell the driver we were leaving. I told them my conversation with Harry went fine. ‘I’m fine’, I told them. My mother said that was good, that was closure and she was glad I had broken up with him. Monica said from her own experience the long-distance relationship thing was not for me. Janine said Harry was not an appropriate relationship for a movie star on her way to owning Hollywood. “Sure”, she said. “You too are great, but you just don’t match”.

“And you know his team and his family doesn’t approve”, Monica emended. She and my mother went ahead talking about something that I couldn’t care about. Janine was re-reading the itinerary for tomorrow and I started to walk slower than her, absentmindedly.

I stopped, my feet frozen on the concrete as they made a turn to get to the car. I played with the thin bracelets in my wrist - diamonds, not the Hermès he had given me. I was alone in a hallway on the way to the garage. ‘Go back’, I begged myself, even though I had no idea what for. I don’t know what I should tell him, but I know I’d regret it. And I know I can’t seem to move because I want him. I want him. But I shouldn’t because I have everything I need and want and it should be enough. I should be fine. I’m fine.

I heard the door back to the party behind me open, thinking it was a sign. ‘Go back!’, I begged myself. I turned around. He stood there, looking just as distraught as I felt.

“I’m happy for you”, he said. “Sorry, that’s what I was trying to say back there. And I guess I lost my voice, which was weird. And I don’t want it to be weird. I want you to know that I am happy for you. Because I am, I am so happy that you’re getting what you wanted, and you deserve all of it, and all of the recognition. Because you’re amazing, and you deserve it. And you’re getting it and I’m happy for y-“

I walked to him, held the lapel of his suit so I could make him lean down, so I could kiss him. So his lips could find mine, and his hands could find my waist.

Then, it was like nothing had changed.

Golden Globe’s Outfit

SAG Outfit

Bafta Outfit

Oscar’s Outfit

Ambassador’s Ball Outfit

Tweets and news and magazine covers! (pls forgitve my horrible photoshop skills?)

After our kiss in the beach – or should I say kisses? – we went back into the park through the second entrance, closer to the other roller coasters and the carrousel, which I ran to immediately, pulling a giggly Harry with me excitedly.

I sat in one of the ceramic white little horses with both my legs to one side and my pretty dress falling down. To my surprise, Harry sat right behind me in the little space I left behind, instead of going for another horse. I looked back at him inquisitively, but as he hanged on to the metal pole in front of me, his face was right before mine and it left me so breathless I couldn’t even remember what was it that I was gonna say. So I just smiled, nervously, and faced forwards again, feeling his arms around me. The sappy song started playing, over our music through the speakers, and we started to go up and down and around in the dim colorful lights. Harry’s hands found mine in the pole as he held himself closer to me. His soft lips touched my naked neck and I felt like my heartbeat was louder than the songs as my skin grew hotter. Then, his lips got creative on my neck and by then I only knew three things: 1- it would leave a mark; 2- weirdly, I wanted it too; 3- I wanted him. More of him, all of him, all to myself and no one else.

I felt like I was gonna explode after a few rounds in the carousel, feeling his lips in my neck and his breath on my skin. Harry held me tighter and after I couldn’t handle it anymore, I jumped down in the back of the ride, where our security detail couldn’t see us. I pulled him with me, and made my way through the lines of ceramic horses and carriages passing by, and went to the center of the carousel, leaning back against the wall. Harry followed and I pulled him close so he wouldn’t be hit by a horse. Also because I wanted him close.

And I kissed him. I framed his soft, warm, lips with mine and explored his tongue with mine and ran my hands around his waist up his back, under his jacket, making patterns down with my nails very lightly. I felt him press his body stronger against mine and even through the two songs I could swear I overheard a small moan, soft as a whisper, coming out of him when I bit his lips ending the kiss.

We breathed strongly together, our hands still hanging on to each other, before we heard the guys calling out to us.

“Are you guys serious?!”, Clark said, seeming distressed and looking like he had just ran to where we were. “They’re fine!”

“What?”, Harry asked.

“Maybe don’t just disappear out of thin air when our literal jobs is to ensure your safety?!”

Harry and I tried not to laugh, awkwardly. “Sorry”, we said.

“Come on”, I pulled him after Clark was gone, stepping out of the running ride. “I wanna beat you on the race cars!”

“Let’s see about that!”, he said.

We made the guys race with us, and Nate had us all beat with the best time, actually.

After that, we went on the roller coasters we hadn’t gone to yet, holding hands in the way and smiling at nothing and everything.

Finally, the last thing on the script was the wonder wheel.

“Why is there two entrances?”, Harry asked. I saw the guy on the staff getting ready to answer and interfered.

“Nothing, really, this is the one we should go on”, I said, pulling him to the one on the left, having an idea on the spot about something I had heard before about the Luna Park Wonder Wheel.

“Oh, would you look at that”, Harry mentioned, as we got into the cars and sat across from each other, “The cars are, in fact, closed”

I laughed, remembering the single mistake that had almost gotten the story ruined when we first came up with it back in July.

We went up, slowly, the sound of the engines filling the delicious silence as we looked around.

“Why are we sitting so far from each other?”, he asked, looking at me now.

I shrugged, playful. “The view?”

He smiled. “My view is, indeed, great”

I chuckled, realizing his view was me.

I laid my head back and sighed, looking at him. “Tonight was… great”

“I had a great time”, he agreed, smiling.

Suddenly, our car started to move to the center of the wonder wheel, at first very slowly, then faster. I saw the smiled disappear from Harry’s face and realization take its place.

“Look out, we’re falling!”, he yelled as we moved, jumping from his seat faster than I could make sense of it, sitting by my side and wrapping his arms around me protectively in despair, trying to place himself between me and the ground. He closed his eyes tight and with a firm hand lowered my head.

I tried to hold it in longer, but couldn’t help it and started laughing. Harry came out of the cocoon he had made with his embrace and looked at me, unamused.

“What is happening?!”, he asked, still distraught, as our car swung itself in place when it reached the end of the trail.

“I’m sorry”, I pleaded, covering my laughter with my hands, “I couldn’t help it, you should have seen your face!”

“What is happening?!”, he asked again.

“The white cars stay in place on the ends of the wonder wheel, the colorful ones swing to the center and back throughout the ride”

He stared at me, serious. “Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m sorry”, I laughed again.

“They move?!”

“Yes”

“Why?!”

“Adventure?”, I suggested. “I’m sorry, I heard about it once and I always thought it would be a good prank idea for someone who didn’t know. You shouldn’t have seen your face-“

“Jenifer”, he started, serious, but I could see the smile trying to make its way into his lips, “I thought we were about to die, there’s nothing funny about this”

“I know, and you protected me, that was so sweet”

He stared at me for another second, then sat straighter in his new seat next to me, still trying to play mad. I tried not to laugh anymore, but then I started again.

And his hand found its way to my neck, turning my face to his delicately and he kissed me mid-laugh. He still had his other arm around my back, which pulled me closer to him, as our tongues intertwined.

His hand left my neck to my leg, my arms brought him closer, and we kissed and kissed until it was time to leave the wonder wheel.

 We walked back to where the cars were parked in silence. Harry slid his hand to mine gently, and I crossed my fingers with his until we were back at the limo.

We took one last glance at the lights in the park and got into the car to head back to the heliport.

Once we were moving, still with the partition closed, I was very aware once more of how alone we were. I was sitting in the middle seat this time, though, and I enjoyed the closeness.

I leaned my head in his shoulder, sighing, happy.

“This was the best date ever”, I whispered.

I felt him kiss my forehead. He grabbed my hand and crossed our fingers together again.

“I’m glad you’re happy”, he whispered back.

I bit my lip, realizing it was a twenty minutes ride back to the heliport, and there was only one way I wanted to spend that time.

I raised my head and he turned his at me, too close. I kissed him. His hand found my cheek, and he held me with his other arm, spraying his hand on my back. I guess more than the smell of his cologne, or the touch of his soft, wet lips on mine it was really the speed and intensiveness of his response that set my insides on fire.

It was the way his hand grabbed me, how fast I was in his embrace, and, before I knew it, I raised my dress so I could throw one leg up and sit in his lap. Harry’s arm hugged me, bringing me even closer with passion – our lips never got away from each other.

I sprayed my legs open wider so I could sit closer to him – our crotches thrusting against one another. His fingers went from doodling up and down my arms gently and sensually to grabbing my tights so intensely my dress came up. His hands were in my skin now, in my legs, and as more time passed, more I wanted his hands to be on all of my skin.

I didn’t remember doing it, but I untied his bow tie and unbuttoned his first few buttons, and I hated that he had an undershirt. Took a little work, but Harry took his jacket off. I ran my long nails up and down his torso, his back, his neck. I held his hair firmly between my fingers and bit his lips gently.

When the car made a turn into the heliport, we were still kissing and I was strongly thrusting my waist against his crotch area. Harry’s fingers had found the lace of my underwear and were teasingly playing with it. When we had made that journey to the park it had seemed excruciatingly long, now, on the way back, when we were happily entertained, the way passed faster than we cared to realize.

We forced ourselves apart, breathing heavily. My hands on his chest, his on my arms, we smiled with our eyes closed.

“I, uhm”, he sighed, “I’m gonna need a minute”

I hoped off of his lap, feeling the volume that had emerged between his legs, smiling proudly at myself. I politely pretended I needed a minute as well, fixing my dress down and my hair – letting it all down now that his grip had messed it a little bit. I reapplied my lipstick, Harry picked his jacket and we got out of the car and back into the helicopter.

Harry put his jacket around my arms on the way, the late night in south Brooklyn had gotten windy, and he kept his arm around my shoulders until we got into the helicopter.

The flight back home was slower than the first time around as well, probably because I couldn’t stop asking myself what would happen next.

We landed in our building, and Harry followed me to the elevator with Eddy and Nathan. Eddy said goodbye after we got to my floor, and went home. Nathan, as usual, followed us to the door and searched the place before we walked in to make sure all was well. Harry was polite enough to act as if he wasn’t sure what the next step was.

In the kitchen, after I couldn’t pretend anymore and kissed him, his hands found my back. Mine found his buttons, all the ones I couldn’t reach in the car, and unmade each one, pulling his shirt from inside his pants when I was done. Harry’s hands left me just long enough so he could take his shirt out – I used that time to lift his under one as well, splattering my hands in his chest until the shirt was on the floor where it belonged.

Harry’s hands were unquiet, from my back to my hips, he grabbed my dress not knowing where the zipper was until I reached it myself and opened it. I took off the necklace and placed it in the counter. Soon enough, the dress was also on the floor where it belonged. I wasn’t wearing a bra, only the black lace panties he had playfully touched in the car. Harry took a couple of seconds staring at the sudden sight of me. I refused to look down, I stared at him, contemplating the breathless desire on his eyes. One second later, he took a step closer again and his hands brought our lips together once more. His hands left my face for my neck and torso until they cupped my breasts firmly once, and this time the small moan I overheard was my own.

His hands then left my breasts for my ass, and the next thing I know is he’s lifted me up to his lap. I wiggled my feet so my heels fell to the ground. Harry walked us out of the kitchen and through the hall, to my bedroom. We stopped kissing so he’d know where he was going, but my lips found his neck this time, and I too could be creative.

We stumbled against a wall in the hall. “If you keep doing that we’re gonna fall”, he whispered, playful, getting a better grip at me before walking us the rest of the way until the bed, where we fell together.

I held his belt before he could do anything and opened it. I unzipped his pants and he took them off, along with his shoes, as I placed myself better on the mattress. He came back at me and I threw my leg around his waist to pull him closer faster and felt the volume between his legs against me again. His forehead touched mine in a pause and he smiled slightly.

“What?”, I asked in a whisper, not being able to contain my own smile.

Our loud heavy breathing was the only sound in the room, and Harry ran his hands against my skin.

“I just”, he gulped, “I’ve fantasized about this for the longest time”

I smiled, holding his hand with mine and bringing it to my breasts, that he started to press gently.

I kissed him. And then I kissed him again. And again.

“I want you”, I whispered, in a moan, as he kept on playing with my breasts and thrusting himself tighter against me, the volume in his underwear against my crotch driving me insane. “Harry, I want you now”

My request was his order, and his tongue found my nipple. His other hand was on my tight, when I grabbed it, impatient. I slid it over my hip all the way across my waist under my underwear, between my legs, until his bulky fingers were over my big lips. He didn’t need any more direction than that.

His hand moved down and up again firmly a couple of times before his fingers made their way in between my big lips, where they started to rhythmically circle around until I was arching my back up in pleasure, moaning at his body over mine after so many nights of having only my imagination; and his warm, wet, soft tongue on my nipples; and his hand, faster and faster, moving around in me.

“Oh, fuck”, I whispered, my nails leaving marks on his skin as I tried to let him know how good it felt. “Oh, oh- Harry!”

As I breathed heavily in bliss and stroked his hair with one hand, scratching him gently with the other, Harry raised his head from my breasts. He placed a kiss on my lips with his eyes opened. His hand between my legs never stopped moving, but got faster.

I moaned breathily inside his kiss, until the pleasure felt so good my head turned to the sides in spasms of bliss. Harry kissed my neck, and my earlobe, and his hand in me reached a place I couldn’t let him let go off, so my hand met his down there again.

“Here”, I whispered, “Here”

“Like this?”, his voice was deep and rough when he spoke and I wanted to fuck it – I wanted to fuck his voice, and his blue eyes, and his smell of man’s cologne and after shave cream.

“Yes”, I said, in a breath, all that I could muster.

His hand got faster and my breath got so heavy I started to breathe in gasps.

“Oh”, I moaned, again and again as I felt his breath on my ear and neck. “Harry”, I cried in bliss. It was like I could hear the smile in his lips when he spoke.

“I love it when you say my name”

“Harry”, I repeated, smiling in a whisper as the movements of his fingers grew faster and stronger. “Don’t stop”, I begged. “Don’t stop”

“I won’t”, he promised.

“Harry!”, I cried again, pulsating with pleasure, as my legs jumped time and time again in spasms. Harry kissed my neck again. “There, don’t stop. Don’t stop!”, I repeated, breathless.

Harry didn’t stop. And he kissed me, his tongue so intertwined with mine I couldn’t know which was which.

“Hhmm”, I moaned, with his lips on mine and his fingers on me until I felt my back arching one last time as my muscled contracted in pleasure before I breathed out.

I sighed, strongly. I laid back into the mattress and pulled his hand up from my legs. He held my ass, bringing my leg up, and I hugged his waist with it. I breathed heavy as he kissed my cheek slowly as I calmed my own body a bit – but I couldn’t. It was still alive and excited with his body above mine and his lips on my skin.

We let some time pass, I ran my hand over his back slowly, feeling his skin on my palms. I turned my face to him, and our lips glued together like magnets. I pulled his lip with mine, feeling his breath on my skin, and his tongue made way into my mouth. His hand cupped my breast again, and I broke the kiss.

“Get a condom”, I breathed out.

“Now?”, he asked, “Don’t you need some time to-?”

“Harry, shut up and get a condom”

He jumped up from the bed, leaving my body aching with his sudden absence. I bit my lip while I waited, smiling with my eyes closed feeling so grateful for the box of condoms Monica would send along with my groceries every month – that every month I had to throw away so she’d buy new ones and think Harry and I had a sex life. Every month the ritual of throwing one away without her seeing it and finding a new one in the bathroom cabinet made me very depressed with the thought of how pathetic was my life. Not today.

Today Harry came back from the bathroom and took his place between my legs again. I felt his rigidness in my crotch and pushed his chest with my hands fast, rolling him over so he’d lay one the bed and I could sit my wet big lips on his now exposed crotch.

I sprayed my hands open on his stomach and kissed his belly button, then moved up slowly kissing him up until his chest and neck, moving my hips in circular movements on his hard cock. I heard his breath get heavier and he gripped a handful of my hair between his fingers, and pulled my head back, gentle but eager.

I felt his teeth lightly trace the delicate skin on my throat until my ear, teasingly rehearsing a bite that only came in my earlobe. I pressed my hips onto him harder.

“Now”, he begged, whispery, in my ear, one hand in my ass pulling me closer, begging to go inside of me. I could feel him hard between my legs as I adjusted my position, sitting on him.

“Now?”, I asked, teasingly thrusting myself forward again, rubbing us together. I heard a breathy moan come out of him and he nodded emphatically.

“Yes”, he begged.

I kissed his neck, making a trail from his jaw line to his chest. I ran my nails up his sides, and saw the chills on his skin. His hand was on my breast, pressing it tenderly, but firmly, his index finger and thumb rubbing my nipple deliciously.

I kissed him, thrusting my tongue deep into his mouth after his, feeling our lips together. I was aware of how wet everything felt, form the sweat in our bodies, to the soak between my legs, to our lips everywhere, and I didn’t mind; I loved every ounce of everything between us because for the first time in what felt like forever, there was nothing between us.

So I reached down, closed a gentle grip around his cock and pulled it up between my legs.

“Yes”, Harry begged, breathily.

I teased him, rubbing his knob up and down my wetness a couple of times. Harry eyes were closed but I saw how the veins on his neck were protuberant now and how red his skin looked.

Finally, I sat down on him, bringing him into me, moaning as I felt his thick, hard self finally where it should be: inside of me.

I arched my back erect as I started to grind him, forward and back, in and out, my hands still on his stomach. I saw his chest go up and down as his breath got heavier.

I laid down again on top of him, kissing his nipple, to his neck, before he grabbed my hair again, bringing my mouth to his. Harry kissed me, differently than he had kissed me before, all the other times before, with consuming passion as I increased the speed of my hips on his cock.

His other hand made its way down my back to my stomach until his fingers were again between my wet lips, in my clitoris. He started to rub it, fast and I had to break the kiss because I just needed air now. I kept our lips close, not wanting to let him go, not wanting to let any of him go.

“Oh, fuc-fuck, Jenif-“, he gasped, as I shoved myself onto him with ardor, faster. He let go of my hair, and cupped my face with his hand. “God, I lo-“, he gulped. “I like you so much”

I bit his lip, finding a faster pace now, hearing his moaning get more frequent before I couldn’t tell which were his and which were mine.

“Oh, oh”, he shouted, “there!”

I smiled, seeing the bliss in his face. Then I stopped. His eyes opened, and he looked at me in agony, for about two seconds, before I started again, faster than before, and I watched as he threw his head back in the bed, his eyes closing in desperate pleasure.

Harry took an impulse then, grabbing my legs under my knees and threw me on my back again. With the movement, he had to slide himself back into me, which he did, fast, making me scream in ecstasy.

He grabbed my hands and put them over my head in the mattress. He intertwined our fingers, and touched my nose with his, biting my lip this time. Then, he began. He pulled himself in and out fast.

“Is this- oh- good?”, he asked, in a whisper, his own voice was a moan.

I pressed myself to him as well. “Yes”, I cried. “Faster”, I begged, closing my eyes, feeling his uneven, heavy breath on my neck as we grew closer to climax. “Faster!”, I begged again, knowing it couldn’t be humanly possible, yet we did it.

We went faster and faster, until my muscles hurt with pleasure, and I couldn’t control the spasms. I heard Harry’s barely audible ‘there!’, and felt his hand let go of mine and go to my thigh. His fingers brought me closer, as if it was possible, and his breath got rarer and rarer as he reached peak after me. We cried out each other’s names once more, the chorus of breathy ‘Harry!’, ‘Jen!’ being the loudest song in the room.

We hanged onto it as much as we could, and finally our throbbing muscles gave in and we sighed together, heavily. We didn’t move as we tried to control our trembling breaths, still with our arms around each other.

His lips found mine once more, and with a gentle peck, he pulled himself out and laid by my side. Ecstatic, my body complained against the movement, wanting, needing to stay still, to hang on to what it had just gone through.

Harry sat up. I avoided looking, but just assumed he was taking the condom off. I climbed to the top of the bed, and got under the sheets. I laid in my stomach and hugged the pillow, staring at the other side of the room before sighing, satisfied, and closing my eyes.

It was a trick I had learned early on to avoid awkwardness: I’d turn my back to the guy, instead of clinging on to cuddling, to give him an easy way out. So if he wanted to leave, he could just say so without worrying about looking in my eyes to do it.

I heard Harry stand up, and heard his footsteps to the bathroom. I tried to be as okay with it as I had been in the times before, but, with anticipation, I knew this was different. I closed my eyes, trying to drift off, trying not to care.

I heard his footsteps back as he made his way to the bed. I felt the mattress and the blankets move as he made his way into it after me. I felt his arm sliding in with mine, and his nose in my hair as he held me close. We sighed together.

I smiled, turning to him slowly, and passing an arm under his to hold him by his back like he held mine. Our legs intertwined, and we looked at each other, as we mindlessly traded slow eskimo kisses. We smiled.

Then, that was it. As we laid there in our silent embrace all of the cards were on the table. All of our walls were down. Our vulnerability was as naked as we were. There were no longer fake-dating agreements, unspoken rules, or games. There was no more guessing or pain, it was just us. It was just Harry and Jen, Jen and Harry. And it felt incredible.

I moved just a couple of inches, and touched his lips with mine in a peck. Once. Twice. Three times before sighing again. A pause. Harry then kissed me. Once. Twice. The third time at the tip of my nose making me smile. Then in my chin, and my lips again. Then my nose. And my temple. And my eyebrow. I laughed. He took it as a sign of encouragement and kissed me gently in my eyelid and down my face multiple times faster until my neck.

“You’re tickling me!”, I laughed, trying to push him away from my neck, burying my face in the pillows to the sound of his lips on my skin and my own laughter.

He laid down again, smiling, and I got my hair away from my face, looking at him in quiet amusement, biting my lip. We were laying on our sides facing each other, mere inches between us. I saw the big smile dim slowly in his lips until there was just an air of joy about him.

As my lids grew heavier, I watched as his eyes went from mine to my nose, my lips and my chin. I watched his eyes rover over all of my exposed skin – in my arms, my chest – until my hair. He leaned in and placed a kiss in my forehead.

“I like you a lot. Did you know that, Jen Silva?”

The ghost of a smile never flickered from his lips and when I drifted off into sleep, I could still feel mine.

When I woke up a few hours later, in the middle of the night, I heard the sound of the bedroom door closing. I turned around to see the bed empty and realized Harry had left. I was still sleepy, so that didn’t leave much room to think about it too much, but part of my brain hanged on to consciousness to see if he’d come back; maybe he had just gone to get a glass of water. I waited and waited and after a while I gave up.

I sat up and saw his shoes by the bed, still where he had left them. He wouldn’t go back home without his shoes – I thought. I took a deep breath, considering if it’d be too ridiculous to go after him and, before I knew what I was doing, I was wrapping my robe around my body to go to the kitchen. Nothing weird if I just need a glass of water, right?

I found Harry sitting in the couch, staring at his phone wearing my big golden headset. I approached him from the hallway – from both behind the couch and him, and realized he was on skype with Lame-Fucks before he turned to me.

“Oh, hey”, he said, turning to me and getting the headset off of one ear.

“Who’s that?”, I asked, pointing at his phone, to the toddler Edward was bottle-feeding.

“Edward”, Harry said, raising his phone so I could see.

“No”, I said, “That”, and pointed at the baby.

“Oh, that’s Nene”. In the screen, I saw Edward’s lips move as he said something and his face grew annoyed.

“Nene?”, I asked as Harry said a ‘shut up’ on the headset.

“She’s Edward’s daughter”, he told me, “Eponine”

“He named his daughter Eponine?”

I saw Edward say something. “She doesn’t care, Edward, I gotta go-“

“No, what did he say?”

Harry sighed. “He said, yes, that’s her name, and what do you think he is? Some kind of uncultured, medieval man who’s never seen Les Misérables? And that’s when I cut him. Ed, I’m gonna go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Or, in a few hours for you”

I went around the couch as they said their goodbyes and sat in the other end while Harry took the headset off and placed it in the coffee table with the phone. He was still shirtless, but with his pants on.

He looked at me, sitting on top of one leg, trying to keep my robe closed. He rested his head on his hand, his elbow on the back of the couch.

“What was so urgent that couldn’t wait ‘till morning?”

He took in a deep breath. “Uhm. Just work stuff”

“At three a.m.?”

“It’s seven there”, he said. “He was just getting up”

“He always calls you first thing in the morning? That’s dedication. That’s actually worse than Monica and me”

He smiled, staring at the couch. “I called him, actually. Couldn’t sleep. Thought since is morning there, I’d get some work stuff out of the way”

“What’s up, Harry?”, I asked.

He looked up, sighing. “…I told him I’m not moving back”

I felt my heart skip a beat, and then go back to beating in my throat. “You- Uhm. You- what do you mean?”

“I told Edward that in two weeks, after the Halo concert is done, I’m not going back to London”

I pinched my own thumb with my nails, just to have something to look at that wasn’t his eyes. “...why?”

I heard his muttered laugh. “What do you mean, why?”

I looked at him. “Well, don’t get me wrong…”, I mumbled. “I’m not asking if it’s because of me, I just-I mean, I’m wondering-“

“Jen”, he said, getting up from his seat and crawling across the couch closer to me. He sat down in front of me, holding my hand. “It is absolutely because of you”

I hanged on to his hand, realizing the knot on my throat. He intertwined our fingers, and I bit my lip, trying to think of what to say.

First, I realized how it hadn’t yet downed on me that his date to go back home was so close. I hadn’t realized that we only had two weeks. Then, I realized how bad I wanted him to stay.

I thought of our late night Friends binge marathons, eating breakfast food at two in the morning, laughing in the kitchen watching Vodka do tricks. I thought of the day I took him to the old Bowery Poetry Club near NYU that I used to go to every week in college to perform slam poetry, and how he made me go up so he could see it (it was news for about two weeks, considering the club filmed every poem for Youtube, and so everyone found out).

I thought of the weekend we went up to the Hamptons to his friends’ house and just laid by the pool in the sun all day before playing Cards Against Humanity at night with the guys, and the weekend we went to eight different restaurants trying to prove everything they mentioned on a list of the most unique places to eat in the city.

I remembered the laughter-filled night we had had just a few hours before, the roller coasters and his desperate face on the wonder wheel, and how his body pressed against mine in the carousel, and how he had stopped himself from saying he loved me during sex (‘I lo-like you so much’), like he had said he would, as to not scare me off.

I looked at him, at the way he smiled looking at me and remembered something else too.

“I didn’t ask you to do that”, I said, soft as a whisper.

“I know that”, he said. “It’s my choice. If I’m being honest the only reason I agreed to setting a date to move back to London was because I, I needed to get away from you. I thought, you know, since I had no chance with you, I should get away from you as fast as I could… try and get over you… but now, Jen”, he came closer, “I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave you. I wanna be with you”

“Harry….”

“And I know you don’t believe in long distance relationships, but is fine. You don’t have to. I’m not going anywhere”, he squeezed my hand, “I’m not leaving you”

“What did Edward say?”

“Well, he’s gonna take some convincing. But I can do it-“

“Harry, stop”

He sighed. “What?”

I took a deep breath. “Even if you’re not leaving in two weeks, I am”, he seemed confused. I pulled my hand from his. “You know what I’m doing in two weeks?”

“Me?”, he offered, with a cheeky grin. I laughed.

Then I slapped his knee. “I’m serious”

“Sorry”, he said, going serious. “What?”

“I’m flying to Canada to shoot a couple of episodes for-“

“Right! The Walking Dead”, he nodded, “Yeah, you were all excited about that, I remember. So, that’s… that’s just a couple of weeks, right?”

“Almost three, actually”

“Well, I’ll be here when you come back”

“After Canada, I’m-“, I sighed, “I’m flying straight to Los Angeles for the Emmys. I’m attending both ceremonies, the smaller one on Saturday and the main one on Sunday”, he was nodding, and I knew he’d say that was just a weekend, and I’d be back to New York on Monday, so I just went on. “And after California, I’ll fly to D.C.-“

“D.C.?”

I gulped. “Yes, I’m shooting the Winter Soldier there”

“Well”, his confidence flickered. “Okay… so, that’s… that’s, what? Another two months?”

“One and a week, my part is small”, I said, and he smiled.

“That’s not much! I can handle it, come on. I’ll be here when you come ba-”

“After that I do come back to New York, for about… one week for the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show”. We stared at each other. “And then what? You’ll go to the show with me? Sit in first row?”

“Well, I can watch from home”

“It’s not on until December”

“Still, I’ll- I’ll just wait here then”

“Don’t tell me you won’t get a lot of media backlash for having your girlfriend walk down a catwalk in lingerie”

He laughed, but nothing was funny anymore. “I’ve had worse”

“Harry”

“No, Jen, I’m serious. I’m serious about this. I’m serious about you, about us”

“There is no us”, I said. “Remember? Taking it slow? No labels? No exclusivity?”

“Okay, fine, yes. You know what I mean. What I’m saying is…”, he shrugged, taking a deep breath. I wondered if he even knew what was he was saying.

“After Victoria’s Secret, I’m flying to Europe for the press tour with Wild & Free”, he sighed, then nodded.

“Do you have any days off of that?”

“Yes, a few. But I’ll be in a different country every three days, I won’t have time for anything but sleep in the day off. We go all over Europe, before coming back for the premieres in LA and Manhattan…”

“Okay, so-“

“And after press, I go back to Brazil for Christmas with my family. Which is a big deal, since I didn’t go last year…”

“Right, of course”, he nodded, understanding, looking down. “And after that you have the award season”

“Well”, I shrugged, “If we get nominated, but that’s a big if. I start shooting another movie in January, if we do get nominated and I have to attend award season, then I’ll be flying in and out of LA”

He gave me a sad smile. “You’ll get nominated”, I grinned, just slightly. “That’s until February, right?”

“The last ceremony is the Oscars at the end of February, yes. After that I go full time to shoot the movie until at least May, and after that I have to get ready to go represent Adidas in the World Cup in Brazil”

His face brightened up. “I’m going to that! I’m the royal sports ambassador for my grandmother, I’ll be there for about a week”

I gave him the sad smile this time. “We’re probably not even gonna be in the same city, and even if we manage to, Harry, that’s almost a whole year from now”

“No, it’s not”, he stopped, mentally counting the months in his head, and then sighed, looking down. It was eleven months – I had made that count just a few minutes before.

Harry turned to sit straight in the couch, with his legs down, not looking at me.

“You’ll still be here in those two weeks in November”

I gulped, feeling guilty. “You want to take on a fight with your family and your advisors to see me for two weeks two months from now?”

My eyes started watering up, and I felt the knot on my throat again. ‘I will not cry over this’, I thought. ‘I’m the one bringing him to his senses, I cannot cry over this’.

I waited for him to say more, to complain or try again, to be honest, I hoped he would. I hoped he’d say it would be alright, that he’d fly to see me wherever I was shooting, that we would talk on the phone, and it surprised me to realize I was wanting a long-distance relationship when that was the one thing I hated the most in the world.

“If you…”, he started. “You know if-“, he cleaned his throat, pausing. He let some more time pass. “If you don’t want me to stay, you can just say it, you know that, right?”

“It’s not that!”, I said.

“’Cause I know it sounded like I was trying to put us in a relationship and all, but it wasn’t like that, and I’m sorry if I freaked you out, but don’t just push me away. If you don’t want me to stay, or if you don’t really want to be with me for longer than two weeks, you can just tell me as my friend, as you have told me everything for the last eight months”

“Harry, is not that at all”, I said. “It’s not like that”. I cleaned the tears from my eyes, and moved to sit by him. “I have work…”, I shrugged. “I, I’m sorry, but… you know that… you know how it is, I can’t help it”

I raised my arm and held his hand, intertwining our fingers, and laid my head on his shoulder. Harry sighed, and laid back in the couch pulling me into his arms, caressing my back.

“So you don’t…”, he started, “not like me?”

I smiled. “I don’t don’t like you”, I granted, making him smile at my choice of words. “You’re the best thing I’ve had in my life in a long time”, I whispered. He went serious, his look got intense.

“So maybe you even like me a little bit?”, we laughed.

“I like you a little bit”, I said, and he touched my forehead with his. We sighed.

“I don’t want to say goodbye to you”, he gulped.

I nodded, biting my lip to keep the tears away. I wanted to say that I didn’t want him to either, that maybe we could do it, that I didn’t just not not liked him, or liked him a little bit, that I liked him a lot, that I wanted the serious relationship, with the whole process of talking about seeing other people and labeling us as boyfriend and girlfriend, and making plans for a future that was longer than two weeks. Instead, I tried not to make it hurt even more, so I stayed quiet.

“Yeah”, I whispered.

What do you do when you have something amazing that you know will only last for the next sixteen days? Do you end it as soon as possible so it’ll hurt less? I know that’s what I would have done a few weeks before, but now that I had him, I couldn’t. Not when I had seen the joy in his eyes that the idea of staying with me brought him. Not when I had been the one to turn it into sadness and the pain in his eyes hurt me so.

So I took a deep breath, and decided to expose a little more of me, to try and brighten up a bit of him.

“I didn’t tell you this in the park”, I started, and paused, biting my lips thinking of how to admit it.

“What?”, he asked, when I didn’t say anything.

“I also kissed you a couple of times when there was no one watching us”

He raised his head, smiling largely. “What?!”, he laughed, and I smiled, the happiness in him warming up my insides.

“It’s not a big deal-“

“It is! It is a big deal”, he said, “You wanted to kiss me”, he teased. “You wanted to kiss me so bad you lied to me. You wanted to kiss me! You wanted to kiss me! You wanted to kiss me!”, he sang, teasingly and annoying, like a kindergartner.

“Okay, calm down”

“You know what that means? You liiiiiiiiiiiike me. You wanted to kiss me!”

“I just slept with you, that can’t be that surprising…”

“When was it?”

I sighed. “Well, there was my brother’s wedding in Brazil… and we were dancing at the reception… it was right after I was teaching you how to dance forró, and they suddenly started playing a slow song-“

“Do I Wanna Know!”, he shouted, enthusiastically.

“Yes”, I agreed.

“I remember”, he smiled. “You had your head on my shoulder… like this”, he approached me slowly, touching our cheeks making me giggle. “And then you raised your head just a little to speak in my ear, like this”, he whispered, his lips touched my earlobe, sending a quiver through my whole body. “I remember because it was so hard pretending that it wasn’t making me feel anything…”

I smiled at his confession. “And I told you that my family was watching, and gossiping about us, and I asked if I could kiss you to rub it in their faces”, we chuckled.

“And I said, sure…maybe a bit too eagerly?”, he joked, making me laugh.

“You did, I remember that I was overthinking that whole thing… and then you said sure, and I was like, well, that was easy”, he smiled.

“And then I just looked at you, like this”, he ran his lips over my cheek, from my ear to mouth, but didn’t kiss me. “And let you close the distance between us”

I smiled, and then closed the distance between us in a simple kiss, framing his lips with mine for a while.

“I remember”, I whispered, when we broke apart, “that we stayed like that for a while before you started kissing me harder, and I had to stop it, because, you know, we were still in a room with all of my family, and making out with my boyfriend in public was frowned upon”, he laughed.

“I couldn’t help it”, he said, “That was the day I realized I had feelings for you, I was jumping into every opportunity of kissing you… I actually almost did kiss you when nobody was watching us the very day before”

I felt my eyebrows frowning in confusion. “When?”

“You know, when we were in the pier? You were having an anxiety attack and I hugged you and jumped in the water with you in my arms…”, he smiled. “When we came out of the water I was still hugging you, and I just, I had never had you that close to me… and the way the sun was shining in your face, I just- I went this close to kissing you”, he brought his fingers together, leaving almost no space at all between them. As he spoke, my jaw had been dropping more and more. “What?”

“I just-“, I shook my head, getting out of my trance. And then I laughed. “I almost kissed you in the pier!”, I told him, when I had calmed down. His expression was of disbelief.

“No, you didn’t”

“Yes, I did”, I said. “But then…”, I sighed.

“Clark”

“Yep”

“Damn it, Clark… Think of how much time we could have saved… we could have been together this whole time, maybe you would even let me call you my girlfriend by now”

I laughed. “No, it was good that we didn’t kiss then”

He looked at me. “It was?”

“Yeah”, I said. “I wasn’t ready then… I was still… I wasn’t ready. For you. For lo-“, I gave him a side eye, trying to think of how to fix it, “lo-iking someone again, you know? I mean, I would have just… ruined it. I would have pushed you away. We probably wouldn’t even be friends anymore”

Harry was kind enough to pretend he didn’t hear the new word I had just invented (‘lo-iking’), and instead just wrapped his arms around me tighter, bringing me closer to him. We laid there, in my couch, me in my robe, him in his pants, shirtless, at three in the morning on the night of our first date, trying not to think about how much time we lost.

“Jen?”

“Yes, Harry?”

In the dim lights of the buildings around ours, getting into the apartment by the floor to ceiling windows that had the curtains pulled open, I saw him turn his head to me.

“What are we gonna do?”, he whispered. I realized I could be wrong, but I just knew exactly what he meant: what would we do with all that we were feeling and the very little time we had with it?

I sighed, enjoying the smell of his skin and his embrace on me, “Well”, I started, trying to be my practical self, the one who had come up with all of the rules for our dating-stunt. “We can… We can just be friends…”

“Just friends?”, he asked, disappointed, not letting me finish.

“You don’t wanna be friends?”, I asked.

I remembered Tyler, who decided he couldn’t be my friend anymore after I told him I didn’t want a relationship after we slept together. I remembered how it was another piece in the down-falling domino line in my life. My heart was pounding heavily in my chest.

“No, I do. I do!”, I took a deep breath, relieved. “But, you know… just friends?”

“Well, for the next couple of weeks, we can be friends who, you know, really, really enjoy spending time together…”

“…just to make it clear, by spending time together you mean making out and sleeping together, right?”

I laughed. “That too”

He smiled. “Okay”

“Really?”

“Yeah”, he said, “I can do that”. I smiled.

“Maybe we could start by going back to bed”, I said, getting an impulse and throwing one leg above him, sitting in his lap. “You could carry me like you did before… that was really hot”

He grinned. “Really?”

“Mm-hm”

“Or… we could stay right…”, he gave the couch a look, “…here!”, and then threw me laying on my back, lying on top of me.

I giggled. “Really? My white couch?”

“Do you know how many times I sat here with you watching sitcoms and eating pizza and daydreaming about this?”, he asked, filling me with joy.

“A couple of times?”, I asked, playfully.

“Many times”, he said, before he leaned in and put our lips together taking my breath away. “… Jen?”, he asked, eyes closed, pulling our lips apart for a moment.

“Yes, Harry?”, I asked, in a whisper, wrapping my legs around him. He opened his eyes, and looked into mine.

“I’m really glad we’re still friends”

“I thought you were joking!”

“But you said you wanted to dress up, it made you feel more comfortable and feel your best. I even brought you diamonds!“, he showed me the jewelry package in his hand, big enough to fit a necklace. My hand started itching for it.

“Yes, but it doesn’t make any sense, if we’re still going to the same place where it was appropriate to dress casual, how can we now dress up?”

“I told you, it doesn’t matter”

“It can’t not matter, Harry”

“It doesn’t, you’ll understand, just go change”

I sighed. “People will see us and speculate-”

“Jenny”, Harry held my shoulders and smiled. “Go change”

There were very simple reasons why I obeyed: I really like dressing up. I really wanted to leave already. I was really excited about going out with him and also about finding out what was in the jewelry package.

So I marched back to my closet and started to unzip my dress down, thinking of what to wear.

Back when I was still shooting the second season of The Mediator and people were still getting to know me as ‘celebrity’, going to premières, award ceremonies and after-parties were almost just as big a part of my job description as filming was. Janine used to say I had to ‘build myself as a brand’. The list of people I employed then was as short as just Richard, Janine and Joshua – my lawyer. I still wasn’t as busy to need Monica, whom I wouldn’t hire for another two years, and I refused to pay for someone to tell me what to wear if I considered myself so much a fashion fan, so I had no stylist.

It was at an after-party for the Marc Jacobs fashion show in New York City that I met Rachel Zoe, the biggest stylist for celebrities at the time. When we met, as a fan of both her styling and reality show about her career and struggles, I had to do my best to keep it together, but, in the end, it was her who took me by surprise expressing how she was a ‘fan of my style’(!). ‘Who dresses you?’, she asked, then. Proudly, I answered: ‘I dress myself’. Rachel didn’t really answer for almost a minute as she was stunned. ‘But how do you get the dresses?’, she asked, finally, ‘do you know many designers?’. My answer was quite simple, for it was all I knew then: ‘I buy them’.

The thing is if you have a stylist, someone who knows designers and has a good business relationship with them, you don’t have to buy every dress you wear to a work event, they borrow the dress for you and you return it afterwards, this way you look incredible and the designer gets the best promotion ever. Rachel was so surprised that I was spending actual money buying dresses I wouldn’t be able to wear for at least another five or ten years according to social convention that she tried to convince me to let her style me for the Emmy’s, which would happen a week from then.

‘I already bought a dress for that’, I told her. And it was not only true, but it was a dress I was extremely excited about, for it was the pre-fall 2010 Oscar de la Renta red dress Blair Waldorf had worn in a very iconic Gossip Girl episode that had aired recently. Sleeveless, ethereal and light, the dress was then my definition of perfection and nothing had made me happier then to be able to buy it before any stylist had snatched it for their clients.

As Rachel was kind enough to explain then, there was a reason for it: no stylist wanted their clients to wear something people had already seen on TV, the point was to get the fashion police talking by wearing something new. ‘Also’, she went on, ‘the dress is not exactly an Emmy dress, is more for the Oscars’.

She proceeded to offer to style me again, for free. ‘Just this once’, she said. ‘If you like it, you’ll never spend your own money on a work event again and I get the chance to work with someone who clearly knows what they’re doing, which is always fun’. She has been my stylist ever since, and the dress I almost wore to the Emmy’s that year, my gorgeous ruffled skirted, red, Oscar de la Renta, ‘Blair Waldorf’, dress had been since then safely hidden away in my closet, waiting for an opportunity to come out and play. I had never had the heart to return it. Or the opportunity to use it.

Until that day.

I stared at the big garment bag, biting my lip, for a long time before thinking ‘screw it’ and going for it. I unzipped the bag, feeling I had just opened the doors to heaven and imagining a beam of light fall on me and a chorus of angels singing in the back of my mind. My Giambattista Valli fell to the ground and soon enough I was right where I was supposed to be: inside an Oscar de la Renta red ball gown.

When I came back into the living room, we tried it again, seeing each other for the first time on our first date: he heard the sound of my Kate Spade pink heels on the hardwood floors first, and then turned around, and I was able to fully gather how handsome he looked in his tux, like his own version of James Bond.

My dress, shorter in the front, allowed my shoes to be seen. My purse, a fuchsia envelope Armani in the same tone as the shoes, was in my hand, ready to go, and I had managed to pull my hair half up and curl the tips of it. Going for simple and neutral, the pear-shaped brilliant diamond drop earrings were the only jewels adorning me – I had almost kept the Hermès bracelet I had been wearing with the other outfit, but finally decided I didn’t need it today. Finally, I had also changed the makeup just a little bit, darkening my eyes and changing the previously pink lipstick to a red one. All ready and feeling like a princess in my own weird version of a fairytale, I stared at him in anticipation.

I saw Harry gulp. “There you are”, he said, his voice soft as in a whisper, his tone and the look in his eyes being all the compliment I really wanted. He blinked, like coming out of a trance, and squinted his eyes at me. “But there’s one thing missing”

I looked at myself. “Well, I don’t have a jacket now-“

“I mean this”, I looked up.

He took three steps closer to me and opened the box in his hands, showing me the most beautiful diamond and pearl necklace I had ever seen – with two rolls of round pink pearls and two rolls of diamonds interleaved until the final roll, of drop pearls.

I smiled, breathless. “That’s gorgeous”

“No”, he said, removing the necklace delicately, and walking behind me to place it in my nude torso. I got my hair out of the way, awkwardly. “Now it’s gorgeous”, he said, after he was done, turning me to the mirror on the wall. I smiled again, touching the pearls and cold diamonds feeling my heart skip a few beats when his hands slid down my arms.

In the mirror, it was easy to see how we managed to easily fool the entire world: in his tux, hair slicked back, head held high as a superhero, Harry looked like he belonged in a James Bond movie; me in my red, sleeveless, ruffled designer dress, with my hair half up and diamonds adorning my ears and neck, I could have been Judy Garland in The Good Old Summertime; Together, I felt like we should be a painting in a museum. Anyone would like to believe we’re real – even us.

“We should go”, he muttered, taking a couple steps to the door and raising his hand at me.

In the movie of my life, an exciting rhythmic melody started playing, first very low, then increasingly higher, until the girl – me – gives the guy her hand with a smile and they go into the night.

We rode the elevator and I felt so intense that I didn’t realize we weren’t going down until the doors opened and I noticed we were in the roof. The night sky and the lights from the skyscraper around us were even more intimidating, until I noticed the helicopter waiting for us – that was worse.

“It’s faster”, Harry justified, jokingly, when I inquired about it. “And this way we get to avoid being followed by the paparazzi”. With a playful wink, he pulled me to the helicopter and I made the mental decision to save everyone some time and just go with it.

“Am I ever gonna know where we’re going?”, I asked, loud, after we were strapped to our seats and up in the air. Harry smiled, but didn’t answer.

I tried to keep track of the places we were flying over, but it was difficult. Honestly, just the view from the helicopter ride was already entertaining. I remembered how Harry had said in Scotland that he knew I loved heights. I wondered if there was an actual reason we needed the helicopter or if it was just to amuse me. Either way, I liked it. I looked at him, smiling, trying not to give it away how actually excited I was about all of this.

We flew over the East River, and I saw Brooklyn Bridge pass by underneath us. By my calculations, we were right above Brooklyn, flying over Highland Park, Brownsville, so not even the good Brooklyn. I wondered if we were going to the Hamptons, or Long Island, but when I saw that we were approaching the ocean, I wondered if we could be going way farther than I had predicted.

“Harry?”, I asked again. “Where are we going?”

“We’re landing”, he granted.

Soon enough the helicopter started to descend and we landed in a heliport that according to my calculations was by south Brooklyn. Harry helped me down the helicopter and there was a limo and a town car waiting nearby.

“A limo?”, I asked, teasingly. “Black tie, a fancy necklace, a helicopter, and now a limo? If you take me to a restaurant to have a candlelit dinner this will be the biggest rich people cliché ever”

He laughed. “Admit it, you love clichés”, he opened the door to the limo for me.

I rolled my eyes, fighting a smile, and got in, hoping we weren’t really going to a restaurant. With the partition closed and the guys in the other car, we were alone. I expected Harry to roll down the partition and give the driver directions so I could know where we were going, but it was pointless. After he closed the door, we just started moving, so the driver already had his orders.

As the cars made their way out of the heliport and around Brooklyn, I cleared my throat in a cough. “So… we’re in black tie…. In south Brooklyn…”

“Stop trying to think of where we’re going, just… enjoy the ride. You’ll find out soon enough”

“Okay”, I said, sighing, hating to know that he was right: I loved everything about it.

Sitting in the car I realized I had no idea what I was supposed to be feeling. I knew I liked Harry, I knew I liked Harry a lot. I also knew, because he had told me in pretty explicit words, that he liked me too, but I couldn’t help but wonder if Harry knew I liked him.

As I sat there, watching as Harry rubbed his palms in his pants before mindlessly placing his right one in above his heart, as he always did when he was nervous. I smiled at myself, over the effect I had on him, wondering if he knew his effect on me.

“A penny for your thoughts”, he said, when he saw the smile on my face.

I laid my head back, “You’re nervous”

“…that’s what you’re thinking about?”

“Yes”, I said, “I was looking at you and I realized I could tell that you’re nervous”. He nodded, looking out the window. “Am I wrong?”

“No”, he said, and looked back at me, laying his head back too. “I’m nervous. Are you?”

I smiled with the corners of my mouth, very slightly, “You don’t know? Can’t you tell?”

“No”, he chuckled. “I have no idea. I see your cheeks go red sometimes, and sometimes I can tell you’re thinking about something or other, but usually you just stand there, tall and straight, with this look of confidence about you and I have no idea what is going on in your head. Especially when it involves me… And, you know, us. Then I just have no idea… You’re a total mystery”

I felt the confusion was showing in my face because, after all, it seemed ridiculous he didn’t know… well, everything. What I felt, what I wanted, how nervous I was, and how ridiculous it felt that we had to sit there and pretend we didn’t know we’d both just rather go back home and do it.

I retraced – as I had done so many times since – everything that had happened since the start wondering what he could be thinking. He kissed me in Scotland, gave me time to tell him not to, and I didn’t. Then he said he loved me in the kitchen (‘I’m fucking in love with you!’), and I told him what a stupid idea the whole thing was – not that he didn’t already knew. He kissed me again and told me he loved me, again, to which I responded, channeling my former lover, ‘don’t’. In retrospect I realize now Adam is not the kind of person after whom I should have been mimicking my approach to love. After that, we went about our day until that night in his room, after he apologized for messing things up and expressing he still wanted to be my friend if that’s all he could be, I kissed him again. In retrospect I realize that was not my smartest move considering I was trying to convince him we could only be friends, which is what I said next, to which he responded by vowing ‘not to let me forget’, and so the messages ensued. Through them, Harry kept on reaffirming his feelings and I kept on running, until we finally met up again in the building and after I accidentally told him to stop, he listened and left, leaving me alone, until I reached him in the stairs to tell him I would go out with him. Then, of course, there was the amount of drunken confessions I might have made and forgot, which he might have believe or not, and neglected to tell me happened. All I remembered from that night was kissing him right before he left, but that could just mean I was attracted to him, which he had said himself didn’t have to mean anything other than that. I wondered if that’s what he thought was the case, that I was merely attracted to him.

Was it possible he didn’t know I liked him? And, in that case, how long could I still keep the lie up? It felt fun, to think I had this power in me, the power to change this date into whatever I wanted it to be, the power of knowing I had him, and knowing whatever I decided to do tonight, letting him know how I felt or not, he wouldn’t expect it. How long could I still play cool?

The car slowed down gradually until it stopped. “We’re here”, Harry said, opening the door himself and stepping out, seeming surprised we were there already, although if we’re being honest it had felt like torture to sit alone with him pretending it was not a big deal. I couldn’t see much out, but I saw lights.

Careful not to step on my dress, I followed him out. Before me stood the Coney Island Luna Park.

The lights were all on and I could hear music playing from the speakers inside (could it really be ‘You Need Me, I Don’t Need You’?). A little ahead I could see the beach, and hear the soft sound of waves, but there didn’t seem to be anyone there, or at the park now that I thought about it. It was deserted. The lights in the rides were on, the big, differently sized and colored rides, from the wonder wheel to the roller coasters to the carrousel, there was music playing and, except for a few staff members I could spot, there was no one in the park.

Squeezing Harry’s hand - that I was still holding since getting out of the car - I couldn’t hold my laughter when I realized how crazy we looked, wearing black tie in a mostly empty amusement park near the beach.

“Are we alone here?”

“Well… there’s a few staff members-“

“I mean beside them”

“Yes, we are… Do you like it?”, Harry asked, smiling, after I was still laughing seconds later.

I looked at him, sighing, imagining an answer that would cover exactly how happy I was with the amount of thought, time, energy, and frankly, money he had put into this. I just nodded, smiling.

“So I didn’t disappoint then?”, he asked, starting to walk towards the entrance and pulling me with him. The anxious excitement in his eyes warmed my heart.

"That's why the clothes didn't matter... Because we're alone in the park? You closed the park for us?!"

The expectant look on his face made me smile, he mimicked. "You get it right?" He asked, excited, "The reason why we're in Coney Island?"

The song, the park, soon it had started to make sense. "Maryland?", I tried.

"Yes!", he said, enthusiastically, "Our fake first date story you made up on the boat-"

"...because I didn't have one", I smiled.

"Well... Now you do"

I turned to him, realizing that, consciously or not, by making our first date story real, he was making us real.

I stared at the park entrance, the four big circle lights shining in the night, the red lights of the tall wonder wheel in the back, the song playing (the more acoustic version, from the You Need Me EP that was more melodic), and I felt like the movie of my life had just started to be real.

“This is incredible”, I mouthed. Harry pulled us in, and to the chorus of our song we walked into the park. “Did you pick this song?”

“Yes”, he answered, confident and satisfied. “All of the music for tonight was picked specially for you”, his tone was fun and laid back, as in an ironic joke, but I could tell he meant it, and I could tell how excited he was at my surprise.

As we walked in, and I saw the rides properly and the song changed to ‘So’, I started to accept this was real and got into the game very easily.

“Oh, my God, I can’t believe that you did this”, I ran a few steps ahead, to walk around the ticket stand to see the park properly.

Harry saw me spin around holding my dress up with my hands. “Have you really never been here?”

“No”, I said, outraged at myself. “I wanted to come when I was in NYU, but all my friends thought it was lame… and ever since I’ve just been busy”

“Good, then…”, he approached me, clearing his throat, “Ladies and gentleman!”, he said, grandly with arms opened, “Tonight I present you, Jen and Harry’s perfect first date!”

“We… have a theme?”

“Don’t mock, you’re the one who made it up”, he teased. “And tonight, I’ll make it come true. All of it. Exactly as you said it. From playing the kids’ rides that are too small for us-“

“Oh, I can get on board with that!”, I laughed, dying to see his big legs inside a kid cart.

“To roller coasters without lines-“

“Oh, this is a dream”, I laughed.

“To me letting you win a few of the games”

I challenged the smirk on his lips with one of my own. “Really? We’ll see about that”

“To me winning you a stuffed bear…”, he said, walking slowly pass me, with a smirk on his lips. I knew exactly where this was going.

“To you losing it…”

“Well, I don’t think I’ll mind losing it”

“…because you’ll lose it by being too distracted by me kissing you?”

“Hey, you’re the one who invented the date”, he said.

I laughed. “You're saying I'm going to kiss you”

“I'm saying that's what you said it happened… It's like in Doctor Who. You created it, now is a fixed point in history... We just have to go with it.”

I smiled. “Mmhm... Why?”

“Well… because we want to”

“How do you know I want to?”

He gave the ground a sad smile, which told me that he really didn’t know how I felt. “Ok, I want to. I can’t speak for you. I guess I can just give you your best date ever and hope for the best. How am I doing so far?”

Truth be told, he was doing amazing. But I wasn’t about to end the mystery of my feelings. “...Let's just ride the toy, Harry”, I said, going to the one with airplane-shaped cars that seemed to go round a lot, which I guess kids thought was interesting.

“No, seriously, how am I doing so far?”

“I'm not gonna kiss you first”, I said.

He made a face. “You might”

“I'm not. I think you’re gonna kiss me first”

“Well, I’m a gentleman. And you forget I made a promise... I'll only kiss you when it’s right. And that is after you kiss me”

“I think you forget I already know how you feel about me. That gives me an advantage. I can seduce you into kissing me.”

“I'm a strong willed man”, I laughed. “And I think you're the one forgetting that you were the last one to kiss me, so we know you're likely to want to do it again...”

“Okay. It's a bet. I bet you're gonna kiss me first”

He smiled. “I bet you're gonna kiss me first”

“Deal”

“Deal”

“This may just be the most idiotic bet we've ever done”, I said. “And that's saying something...”

We got to the first ride, Air Race, with cars that fit six people shaped like airplanes, so we assumed it was one of the kids’ rides.

“Good evening”, the smiley girl in a Luna park tee greeted us at the entrance.

“Oh, I forgot”, Harry said, after we had greeted her, “Wristbands”. He rolled up his sleep just a bit to take out one of the two silicon yellow bracelets he had on his wrist. He gave me one. “This will get us everywhere”

I put on mine, and the girl showed us to our seats and straped us in. There were prints of control panels in front of us, to make us feel like we’re in a real airplane.

“Ok, you're a pilot”, I said. “So you know what you’re doing here…”

“I fly helicopters, it's a tad different.”

“I've always wanted to learn how to fly.”

“Really?”

“Yeah... seems, you know… yeah”

He chuckled. “Seems what?”

“It's stupid...”, he gave me a face. The girl went back to the control room after checking our big seatbelts were properly tight, which seemed a lot of work for a kids’ toy. “Fine... Look, knowing how to fly an airplane… looks like something useful to save yourself from an apocalypse in movies”

He laughed. “Are you serious?”

“Yes”, I said, knowing the mockery was well-intended, and sort of well-deserved. “Look, did you never see 2012? Half of that plot was the characters trying to find someone who could fly an airplane… when the day comes, I’ll be ready”. He laughed again.

“All ready?”, the girl asked.

“Just a minute”, Harry told her. “Here, I'll teach you how to fly an airplane”

“You’ll teach me how to fly an airplane in a toy in an amusement park?”

“I’ll teach you the basics”

“Didn’t you just say you’re a helicopter pilot?”

“Yeah, but I learned how to fly planes before helicopters, I have a license and everything”

“You have a license to teach? ‘Cause then I could just get mine from you”

“No, you’ll have to go to someone official for that. But I can save you some time and money by teaching you the basics”

“Okay”, I said. “Question. Does that mean you can fly any plane and any helicopter in the planet?”

“…Not exactly”, he said. “I mean, helicopters, yes. You fly an apache you can fly any helicopter out there, it’s the hardest. But planes are different. I’m more used to the small ones. Commercial planes are a lot harder. The control panels are gigantic, there’s too many buttons. But, the core of every plane is the same, so if you know that, at least you could take over in case your pilot died mid-flight or something”

“That’s exciting”, I said, energetic, “Go!”

He grinned. “Okay”, he looked at the pretend panel in front of us, badly printed in the car, probably imagining the real thing. “So, first thing you do is you make sure you have fuel, and that the electric panel is off before turning the engine on. You check every part of the panel to make sure everything’s working properly, if it is, that’s eighty percent of the work, you just have to remember the right number and keep it that way. So, there’ll be two switches about here”, he pointed at the air, “Which you’ll pull out, turn and push back in and turn again, to make sure all the fuel goes to the engine when you turn it on. Now, if you’re already with your seatbelt fastened, you test your breaks, it’ll look just like pedals on a car, there’s two too, you push both to break”

He looked at me, attentive, but focused on the lesson, and then looked at the air in front of us, to the imaginary control panels and wheel. He spoke confidently, calm, on the one subject he knew the most in his life, all with the amazing accent I loved, and I had to remind myself to pay attention, because he just seemed so perfect at that very moment.

“There’s a master switch on this side that will turn on, then will take this plunger-“, he spoke about two sentences of technical bullshit where I just lost myself in his accent, until we were in the good part again. “So after this you use the key to turn on the engine, and now you’ll make sure the wing flaps are up, there would be a button here that you would put up… go ahead”

I looked at him, uncertain I knew what he meant, then raised my hand and pretended I was turning an imaginary button up. “Good”, he went on, making me laugh. “Now, the carburetor heat needs to be in the cold position, we’ll check that again…”, he pretended to turn another button around. “We make sure we really did pull full throttle, and cold carburetor heat, and now we’re all set. So now you call the control tower central to ask permission to take off, ahem”, he pretended to hold a radio to his mouth, “Central this is… uh… Luna Park 187”, he read the random number printed in the car, “asking permission to take off. Usually”, he told me, in his normal voice, putting his hand away as if to make sure central wouldn’t hear us. “Usually we tell them our position, and which lane we’re taking, then after they give us the go ahead, we can take off”

“We just drive the plane to the lane?”

“Pretty much, we drive the plane on position, is like getting it out of a parking space, pretty much like driving a normal car… You need to make sure you’re at the very end of the lane so you have optimized space to get a lot of speed to take off. After you check one last time all your control indicators are working properly, you increase the throttle to about two thousand rpms. So, that’s it. You take speed…”, he gestured to the girl in the cabin now, and she turned the toy on, so we started spinning around in our toy-planes slowly, “You take speed, and then there’s a couple indicators here you look to. The first tells you the pressure on the back of the plane. You can start pulling the steering wheel up when it’s at, say… 55 knots, and then wait until about 75 knots to bring it up again and start to fly, go on, you can do it”

He looked at me expectantly, I laughed slightly, before holding the imaginary wheel and pretending to pull it towards me, “Wow, okay!”, I said, as we turned almost completely to the side.

After almost a full spin around itself, the car we were in started to take up and turn to the sides, and the use of the very tight seatbelts became clear.

“I don’t think this is a kids’ toy”, I said, as the car went back to the original position and quickly turned to the other side.

“I think you’re right”, Harry laughed, and we laughed as we were turned upside down, and around faster and faster, yelling. “Well, this was supposed to be lesson two!”, he joked, and we laughed as the adrenaline kicked in and we rolled around ourselves wishing it wouldn’t end.

We walked the park, pointing at the rides and deciding which ones we should do first, before settling the next one should be The Tickler, a roller coaster of sorts with a big round car that twisted around itself as it went down its course: very fun, and also a very easy way to get yourself nauseous.

Flowers in Your Hair was playing now, and we felt just felt just like the song, and  decided on something calmer next. We went to Magic Bikes which was, now truly, a kids’ ride. It was basically a lighter version of the first, with a twist: the toy-plane-car only took flight if we pedaled it.

“Now, this is just cruel”, Harry said, “It’s just tricking kids into exercising”

We went for the Electro Spin next, a big circle of chairs pointed out, that also went around itself along a big platform in U form.

“Let’s get your pretty dress a bit up, so we can make sure you’re all strapped down”, another woman said as she helped us up this one.

“Yes, somebody”, I looked at Harry, “told me I could wear whatever I wanted”

“Okay, so I overlooked this small detail”, he granted, “You still look gorgeous, though”

I chuckled, blushing. The woman strapping my seatbelt smiled. “That you do”

When it started, and the small thrill of the initial movement began, the one before we know if a ride will be thrilling or terrifying, I saw Eddy and the new guy, Joseph, laughing together looking at us at a distance, as Clark and Nate stood behind in opposite sides, overlooking the park.

“You know we should make them ride these things too”, I told Harry.

“We’ll pick the worst one and dare them to go”, he said, and we laughed, right before our wheel of torture went around fast, going down and making us shout.

After that, we took a turn to the left and went for the Brooklyn Flyer – a double swing which rode around and very high, overlooking the park.

I sat with Harry and we started to lift and to spin until we were flying around seeing the whole park.

To the sound of a new song, I saw the moon, the stars, the reflection of the sky in the sea, and, most impressive, the park, all with its lights on, but almost nobody in it.

“I can’t believe that we’re actually alone here”, I said, smiling, feeling the wind blow softly on my face.

He looked at me. “You like it?”

“Do I like it?!”, I laughed. “Yes, Harry, I like it a lot… Since when did you know this would be our date?”

“Since you invented it”, he said.

“July?”, I asked, in disbelief. “You’ve been planning this since July?”

“Well, no”, he grinned. “I wanted to go out with you since before, but I didn’t start planning in July. Not actual planning. I just knew when you said you didn’t have a good first-date story that I wanted to give you one, but I didn’t know if I’d have the chance”

I let that sink in for a while, as we watched the lights fly by. “Since when?”, I asked. “Since when did you want to go out with me?”

Harry stared ahead for a few seconds. “’You mean since when I’ve had real feelings for you?”

I wondered if that was what I meant. Did I want to know? “You don’t have to say it… But yeah, it’s kind of what I meant”

It felt like we had been spinning around another five turns before he spoke again. “It’s complicated”, I grinned.

“Isn’t everything with us?”

He nodded, smiling. “Remember your birthday?”

I remembered the dinner, with a violinist serenating us, in his terrace, and my Mary Katrantzou dress. I remembered getting Vodka, and dancing with some of my closest friends, and realizing Tyler was hurt. I remembered dancing with Harry, twice, and fake-kissing Harry, also twice.

“It couldn’t be that long”, I said, realizing, timidly, it was probably around that time that it had started for me too, in the sad realization in our dance in the rain when the night was over that I wished it was real.

“Not really”, he said, and we started to be brought down gently. “But… I guess if I could pinpoint a moment when it started, it would be then. I didn’t notice right away, though. Or if I did in some way, I guess I just buried it inside and didn’t think about it as to not complicate things”

We remained quiet as we stopped on the ground, and a girl – the first one, I noticed – strapped us out. We walked out of the ride, still in silence, looking around.

“You kissed me”, he said. I looked at him in wonder. “After I gave you Vodka, you got really happy, and then you kissed me. And, I guess for about two, maybe three seconds before I realized you were just doing it because the guys were watching us through the windows, I did thought you had just kissed me because you simply wanted to. I thought you were making a move and we’d have to talk about it, and that’d be weird. But then it was just because we were being watched and I let it go, but in those three seconds, I did feel something, and I just pretended to myself that I didn’t”

My stomach seemed to be twirling inside of me at his words.

“Right… Well, the guys were watching”, I started, interrupting him, realizing saying this would put him one step closer to realizing how I felt. I still wasn’t sure I wanted him to know. Still, I kept talking. “… but I didn’t know that until after I had kissed you”. He looked puzzled. “On my birthday? After you gave me Vodka? I was just… really, really happy, and excited, I guess, and I kissed you as a thanks, and just afterwards I realized I shouldn’t just kiss you for that, and so I said the guys were watching, which turns out they were. But I didn’t know at first…”

“You-“, he stopped walking, I went on to the Water Racer tent, having an idea and hoping he wouldn’t hang on to the subject. “Oh. So…”, I sighed, “Were there other times… when you kissed me without knowing if someone was looking?”

I waited until he reached me, right before the tent. Holy Ground started playing.

“I’ll tell you what”, I said. “Let’s play water race, and if you win, I answer a question. If I win, you answer”

“Okay”, he smiled, taking his hands off his pockets and walking to the tent with me. “But I must warn you, I’ve been shooting since ever, so I’ll probably win”

We showed the lady our bracelets and sat on the stools in front of water pistols. The goal was to shoot the biggest amount of water inside the mouth of a toy-clown head a few feet in front of us.

“Ready?”, the guy behind the counter asked. “One, two, go!”

Harry and I pulled the triggers on our water guns, which were too loose, and splashed water everywhere, laughing before we could actually point it where we were supposed to.

“Okay, you got me wet on purpose”, Harry said, and I laughed.

“I didn’t, I swear!”

“Five bucks says Jen wins”, I heard Eddy behind us.

“I’ll take it”, Clark agreed.

Ten minutes later we’re walking to the Tea Party and I’m carrying a Teddy bear in my arms with a victorious grin in my lips.

“Think about it this way, Mr. Prince”, I told him, “At least I still got my bear, everything is going according to the script”

“Okay, okay… you won”, he said, and we showed the bracelets again to the girl at the tea party before she let us in. “What do you want to know?”

I really did consider asking more about how long had he had feelings for me before we actually kissed, but I thought it just wouldn’t be as fun.

“Let me think…”, I looked at the guys standing outside. “Hey, you two, you wanna come in?”, they laughed.

“No, thank you”, Nate and Eddy said.

“You know what I like about this?”, Nate asked. “It’s not just some rubbish tea-cup set, it’s a really fancy tea-cup set!”

“That might have been the most British thing I’ve ever heard you say”, Eddy said, making us laugh.

When the tea cups started going around, and we started pulling the wheel inside so we would spin around ourselves, I thought of a question. “What is your favorite movie-?”

“Pulp Fiction”

“I know, I wasn’t done… I’m thinking of new questions… Like, what is your favorite movie to watch on Christmas?”

“Oh”, he said, thinking as we twirled around faster and faster, faster and faster, “The Cat In The Hat!”, he shouted, a bit too loud, because we were starting to spin too fast.

“Ugh!”, I let out. “I hate that movie!”

“You do not!”

“I do, that thing is scary! I can’t believe that was a kids’ movie”

“That’s ridiculous, everyone loves Cat In The Hat”

“I don’t, and I don’t understand people who do, that… Cat is a monster, it’s horrible. It’s just like Grinch. God, I hate The Grinch”

“Would you prefer me to say Love, Actually?!”, he scorned.

“Oh, no, that movie is terrible”, I said.

He held the wheel in the center of our tea-cup-car strongly, stopping us from spinning, so we just kept on going around the ride with the other tea-cups to the sound of a different song blasting through the parks’ speakers.

“You don’t like Love, Actually?!”, he asked, and in his serious look I couldn’t decide if I saw more disbelief or outrage.

“It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s a good movie. It’s nice. It’s just not everything is cracked up to be. Like, the guy literally tries to get with his best friend’s wife? What the hell?”

“Marry me”, he said and we laughed. “Come on, what is your favorite movie to watch on the holidays?”

“Nightmare Before Christmas”, I replied, “which is the only right answer!”

“Okay…”, he agreed. “That’s a good one”

“Now I’m gonna give you an easy one”, I said, “If you can stand up on your seat while I spin us around as fast as I can, I’ll answer a question for you”, I grinned.

“Okay, give me all you got”, he stood up trembling in his seat, and I started to spin us as fast as my arms allowed me.

“You can’t bend your body like that, you have to stand tall!”

Harry laughed, the sweet sound of his laugh unraveling things inside of me as I tried to keep myself in place

“How long?!”, he asked, trying not to laugh and not to move too much.

“How long can you?! That’s the right question!”

“Okay”, he chuckled, “I’m starting to laugh, I’m gonna fall”

I finally decided this would end up being a crappy date if he fell to his death – imagine what a way to go, ‘banged his head in the Luna Park Tea Party’ – so I slowed us down and he got back to his seat.

“That was easy”, he said. “Let’s see… what was it I wanted to know?”, he pondered.

“I think we should go eat now”, I said, just as the cups started to stop, and I got down and started to walk out.

“Okay, my question is, what was…your…”, I chuckled, as he seemed to be making the question up as he said it. “Dance theme?”

“My dance team?”

“You know, after you finish High School, you have a party beside graduation, right? The dance!”

“Oh, prom? God, why do you wanna know that?”

“Take me on a trip to high school Jen!”, I groaned, miserable at the thought of ‘high-school-Jen’, and he laughed at me.

We ordered ‘Hawaiian smoothies’ at a place called Maui Wowi, and pies at Pie Face, and I suggested we go eat by the beach, so we exited the park and walked the boardwalk to the pier, the beach on one side, the park by the other. It was late at night now, and summer was over, so there was barely anyone around, which was good. Anyone could have been drawn to the couple in black tie drinking smoothies in the Coney Island beach boardwalk.

I told Harry about High School Jen, and how despite thinking ‘Casino night’ was a very lame prom theme, she was really excited about it. I told him about Aiden Jackson, my date, who got high on the bathroom between songs and got mad that he didn’t win prom king and insisted we left early, but instead of taking me home tried to have sex with me in his car to the sound of Smack That, by Akon. That got some loud laughter out of him.

He calmed down to the sight of my timid smile, finally. “Yeah, you-“, he cleaned his throat, “You’re definitely not the type to have sex for the first time in a car…”

After a quiet few seconds of an awkward look I gave to the beach, he spoke again. “You had sex for the first time in a car, didn’t you?”

“Listen!”, I justified. He laughed. “I was seventeen, he was nineteen, we both lived with our parents and were way too prude to get a motel room or something, where else were we supposed to go?”

As we walked farther along the park through the boardwalk, the music got harder to hear, and I asked about his, ahem, experience and Harry told me about his ‘dance’, which was themed ‘Mardi Gras’, and how girls didn’t really care that he was a prince until he ‘grew into his own face’ – his words, not mine – and started looking better by 2002, also when he started throwing small parties for friends in his house with alcohol and weed, which suddenly got everyone interested and lent him a one-day visit to a rehab clinic once this leaked and the public grew concerned he was an addict.

I laughed so hard at this I almost choked on my pie.

“You laugh, but you weren’t the one who grew up being told any mistake could end everything generations of your family took years to build”, he said.

He told me about the girl who finally took his virginity when he was 18 – between the party reputation, the tittle and the promise he was about to leave for his gap year adventure, this ‘Charlotte O’Dell’ person assumed it was now or never, and so it happened.

“Wait”, I asked, “Are you telling me I lost my virginity before the so-called ‘party prince’?”

“I hate that nickname”, he said, grinning. “And listen, I had a weird face, ok? And my hair was all over the place-“

“Your hair is still-“, I mumbled.

“A tittle only gets you so far is what I’m saying so, yes, it took a while”, he stopped me. “And technically by the time I was losing my virginity you were… oh, yeah, twelve and being cast in Disney Channel…”, we were quiet, as I thought about that, realizing he was right. “Ok, you know what? Never mind. That thought just makes me feel old”, we laughed.

And we laughed.

And we laughed about how he almost tripped trying to prove he still remembered how to dance samba. And we laughed about how his physics teacher in high school was surprised he managed to graduate. And we laughed about the time Alessa and I decided we needed to try every type of alcohol in our senior year as to not be caught off guard in college – and ended up spending an entire weekend drunk while her parents were away, writing weird fanfiction and making stupid videos on her computer. We laughed about how he almost got killed by his own horse during a polo lesson while attempting to make an Indiana Jones pose once. And we laughed about my worst audition ever (“I had just come back from Brazil, literally, just gotten in the country, went to the audition straight from the airport, and I had been feeling crappy the whole flight, I had spent the previous whole week on the beach. I get there and read through about two pages before I start to get really nauseated and next thing I know I’m vomiting on camera… you’re laughing, but I’m not done. There’s this unbearable silence for a while before I clean my lips with my hands and try to continue to read like nothing happened until finally one of the directors tells me to stop and go home. It was mortifying”). He asked me what my favorite book I had to read for school was, which generated a whole discussion about literature.

“Les Misérables”, I said, “Mostly because by the time we read it for school I had seen it on Broadway and loved it. That was also the book that got Ally into French literature, which is why she’s getting her doctorate in it, but all the way to the one lit class we had in NYU I kept disagreeing that English lit was the best”

“Mhm, okay”, he sounded sarcastic, “You say that but you didn’t have to take three years of Shakespearean interpretation at Eton College. Name one British book you like besides Pride and Prejudice and Harry Potter”

“Okay”, I said. “…The Secret Garden”

“Oh, yeah”, he agreed, “Although I hated the movie”

“Oh, it was nice”

“Yeah, but they cut out all of the part in India about how truly awful Mary’s parents were. In the movie, you could almost believe they just happened to die at a party, but would have come back for her if they had the chance. In the book they had days to leave the country before the plague, but they choose to leave her behind!”

“You’re right”, I realized. “I always wanted to know if the song the author envisioned had really that melody they used for the movie”

He looked confused. “What song?”

“You know… how was it? ‘Mistress Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?’”

“Jen”, he said, appearing cautious, “that is the song. It’s a years old nursery rhyme”

“Really?”

“Yeah, ‘Mistress Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? With cockleshells, And silver bells, And fair maids all in a row’”

I realized my mistake in silence, and then smiled timidly. “You know, that makes a lot of sense because I always wondered how did those kids who were mean to her managed to make up that cute song”

He laughed. “Yeah, England is pretty great with children’s books. Just look at Alice in Wonderland, a classic –what?”

I was nodding negatively. “No, sorry, I like Alice in Wonderland but I have a problem with it”

“How can you have a problem with it? It’s great”

“The Disney movie scared me for life, Harry! A child shouldn’t be forced to watch sweet little Alice falling down a gigantic whole, somehow not bruise herself, and then almost drown  in her own tears, and that just in the beginning of the movie. How was Alice not crying for help, desperate to get home?!”

“Oh, God…”, he smiled.

And he smiled at the bit of pie crust in my chin. And he smiled when I twirled around in my dress to see the long red circle that formed when my skirt lifted. And he smiled when I asked him what place he had most liked to visit, and he smiled when he answered Lesotho. And he smiled when I answered the same question saying I still wanted to see so many places.

“Everywhere I’ve always been has mostly been at work, in a hurry. I wanna take time and enjoy a place at a time, you know? See the touristic parts and the urban parts, and the slums no one wants to go to, and the places you can’t help but imagine yourself in at those articles like ‘beautiful places you can’t believe actually exist! Like the Love Tunnel, in Ukraine, and the pink lake in Australia. And the Salar de Uyuni, in Bolivia. And Machu Pichu, which I’ve never been to, and Cambodia, and Mount Roraima which they used as inspiration for Up, and actually exists! And the Cherry Blossom Avenue, in Germany? I wanna go everywhere!”

And he smiled.

And I thought about how he seemed to be smiling ever since we got to the park, maybe even before. I thought about how his smile made me want to smile too, and about how I just wanted to kiss him. About how I wanted to kiss him and get this over with, the suspense, the tension, the big what if hanging on the whole night. And every time he smiled I wanted to cover his lips with mine. And he smiled a lot.

We burned topic after topic of conversation and when we were leaving the pier back into the boardwalk, Harry walked to the rail separating us from the beach.

“Come on”, he said.

“Where are we going?”

“To dance, of course”

So he helped me jump the small rail to the sand. I took off my shoes so I could walk to the beach, complaining about the cold a little, which made Harry take his shoes and socks off as well, making me laugh at his excessive manners. I let the trail of my dress sweep away, and we stopped by the water when he put our shoes – and the Teddy bear - on the ground and placed both hands in my waist, bringing us close.

We had our bodies together and I could smell his cologne. The sand felt powdery and cold but my body was hot in anticipation.

“Now what?”, I asked, softly, bringing my hands up to his shoulders.

“Now we dance”, he said.

We were far enough now so we couldn’t hear the music from the park anymore, but I remembered what I had said about it when I made up that date, so I had started grinning at what I knew he would say.

“This is the part, according to the script, where I tell you to sing so we can dance”

I nodded, we were both beaming now. “Right. But what should I sing, I ask you”

“Whatever comes to your head”, he said, as expected. So I chuckled a little, and gave it my best.

“Now I’m in town, break it down, thinking of making a new sound, playing a different show every night in front of a new crowd”, we got really into it, acting out as best as we could. I did my best no to laugh and Harry started spinning us around softly in a calm dance that did not go with the song at all. “That’s you now, ciao, seems that life is great now. See me lose focus as I sing to you loud. And I can’t, no, I won’t hush, I’ll say the words that make you blush. I’m gonna siiiiing this noooow, oh-oh. See, I’m true, my songs are where my heart is. I’m like glue, I stick to other artists. I’m not you, now that would be disastrous. Let me sing and do my thing and move to greener pastures!”, he dipped me, in a fast move, and brought me back up to the beat of the song in our heads, I needed a break to laugh. “…see, I’m real, I do it all, it’s all me I’m not fake, don’t ever call me lazy, I won’t stay put, give me the chance to be free…”, then he shouted the next part with me, “Suffolk sadly seems to sort of suffocate me”

We laughed, and went on spinning around softly, more to our own rhythm than any song, and I laid my head on his chest. Smelling the salty ocean air, the music I heard became the waves and his heartbeat, getting increasingly fast as we moved slower and slower.

I raised my head to look at him. Harry leaned in and touched my forehead with his. We closed our eyes together as we felt each other’s breath in our skin and I felt myself gulping for strength. His hands caressed my waist where they rested. I felt my skin burning up and opened my eyes again. He was looking at me.

I didn’t care about getting sand over my dress, or that we were in a pretty public space. I didn’t care he’d know what I wanted and how I felt. I didn’t care about the park, the limo or the helicopter, or the diamonds. I didn’t care about my career or his family, or that he had a date to go back to England. When he looked at me, it was hard caring about anything other than him; and him with me, and us.

So I got on my tiptoes and covered his lips with mine. Harry responded immediately, he leaned down so I could be on my feet and held me tighter as I touched his hair, his neck, feeling his soft, warm tongue with mine, making my entire body tingle.

When we stopped for air, still with our foreheads together, Harry was grinning. So was I.

“You lost the bet”, he whispered.

“I don’t care”, I told him. And I meant it.