You Before Anyone Else

by Julie Cross

  The designer leans on one elbow against a small drink table. “All the best ones are, honey.”

  “I can give you my personal email. Promise not to give it out?” Finley asks, dead serious.

  The guy comes to life, punching the information into his phone and then explaining a bit about a tutu line he’s developing for men. I can barely hold in my reaction to that, but luckily, we’re interrupted by a middle-aged woman seated one table over. “Did I hear that right? Prada is using real dancers as consultants?”

  “Well, of course!” the designer guy interjects, putting on his best networking face. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Summer, who Finley says is still scarred from her day in pointe shoes, snorts back a laugh.

  “I’d love to run that story in a Cosmo issue,” the woman says. “Maybe February. I think we’ve got a slot open.”

  She and the guy go back and forth with too much fake conversation for my taste. I reach for Finley again, shift her hair over to one side, and bring my mouth close to her ear. “One party and you’re all kinds of famous. Novel-writing, pointe shoe consultant, friend of Toby Rhinehart…”

  “I think Toby and I really hit it off,” she says. “I’d definitely consider us BFFs.”

  “Soon, you’ll ditch me for someone with a bigger name.” I touch my nose to her neck, wishing we were alone. Maybe lying in her backyard again. Or swimming naked in the pool. What happened to that plan?

  “I just realized,” the Cosmo lady says to me. “You’re the billboard guy.”

  I’m about to ask what the hell she’s talking about when Finley elbows me in the side and points to a set of three giant posters. The middle one is the biggest, and it features Toby—with very little clothing. The poster on the right is of a guy I did the shoot with, modeling a suit. The one on the left is me. Wearing the exact same clothes Toby’s got on tonight.

  “Holy shit…” I mumble. I lean in to whisper to Finley again. “You don’t think that’ll end up—”

  “In Times Square?” she teases and then turns serious when she sees my face. “It’s blown up from the catalog. I’m sure it won’t make any billboards. Just the website, and that’s only seen by people shopping for clothes by Alexander Wang.”

  I release a sigh of relief. Me on a billboard is the last thing I need right now. Toby sends me a text that says #twinning, and when I look up from my phone, he’s taking a selfie beside the poster of me. Is he planning to post that online?

  Finley turns her head to whisper, “Are you okay?”

  I nod, forcing down the bubbling anxiety. It is what it is. Eventually, I’m not planning on hiding anything from anyone. “Have you two ever shot together as a couple?” the Cosmo editor asks.

  Since I’m not sure exactly what she means, my response is vague. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Not a specific piece at the moment, but sometimes, I get inspired to work in reverse,” she explains. “We take some shots and let the article emerge from that. I’ve got a Columbia student shadowing me this month, and she’s itching for her own project. I’d love to turn her loose with a camera on you guys.” The woman stands, turns around to talk to someone at the table beside us, and then returns with the Ivy-League girl from Dima’s party. “This is—”

  “Eve,” Finley says, grinning. “Cosmo now, huh?”

  “I take it you know each other,” the woman says. Then she catches Eve up on our Prada ballet shoe discussion.

  I almost don’t recognize Eve. She looks very different than she had at Dima’s party. Instead of casual jeans attire, she’s wearing a business suit, her hair up in a bun.

  “Eddie, right?” she says to me, and I nod. She and Finley seem to share some silent conversation, but eventually, Eve turns back to the Cosmo lady and says, “Did you have any concept in mind for the photos?”

  The woman studies us in a way that’s too intrusive for my taste. “Might be fun to turn you loose with them. Especially going with the ballerina theme. We haven’t done that in years.”

  Eve lifts an eyebrow at the ballerina mention. “So something couple related, coupled with dance…sexy, yet artsy…”

  The Cosmo woman beams at Eve. “Are you sure I can only have you for a month?”

  Eve turns a bit pink but doesn’t respond to that comment.

  “Let’s get them into a studio soon,” the woman says. “Just take it and run, see where you end up. You know my rules: give me something good, and whatever else you get for yourself is fine by me.” She flashes us a diplomatic smile. “I always support educational pursuits. How do you feel about this project?”

  Finley is sharing some inside joke with Eve and trying not to smile. “I would be up for that if Eddie agreed to it.”

  Cosmo. That’s pretty much as safe as it gets for me. “Yeah, sure.”

  “What about pointe shoes and sex for a concept,” the Prada guy suggests, butting in.

  I scratch my head, trying to get a visual for that. Yeah, nothing. But then I remember being alone with Finley in her parents’ studio. “Private lessons?” I suggest.

  “Oh, that’s good,” Cosmo lady says.

  Eve doesn’t respond, but she seems to be deep in creative thought. The Cosmo lady wants to introduce her to someone, so she mouths something to Finley that I can’t decipher before taking off.

  “Cosmo usually uses couples in their shoots, so I’ve never even been to a casting for them,” Finley explains once we’re alone again.

  I turn her around to face me. “Are you as distracted by you as I am?”

  She closes her eyes and groans. “Worst line ever.”

  “I’m sorry. I kind of wish I was joking. Especially with all the networking potential.”

  “So unprofessional,” she says before pushing her hands into my hair and bringing my mouth so close to her that I can barely hear above the rush of blood to my ears. “Want to leave?”

  “Yes, so much,” I say, earning more blushing from Finley.

  I wait by the bar while she leaves to retrieve her purse and goodie bag. While I’m standing there, Toby appears beside me.

  “Here I thought I was being nice, scoring you an invite to the hottest party, and you’re the fucking poster boy.”

  I laugh, but when I look at the giant picture again, my stomach turns. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “So not a good surprise?”

  I tug at my shirt collar, not sure how much I want to divulge. “Not so much. It’s complicated. Family shit.”

  “Right. I get it.” He nods like maybe he does get it. “And modeling…isn’t it usually a bridge to somewhere else? What do you do in real life, Eddie Wells? Besides stalking pretty blonds who are obviously too good for you.”

  I laugh at that. “You have no idea. And what do I do? Not sure, but so far, I’ve ruled out being a Princeton grad. I considered subway musician, but I only play piano, so that gets tricky, hauling that instrument around.”

  “You’ll figure it out,” he says. “There are literally a hundred ways to do everything. No one ever talks about that—it’s always about finding the one best way—but there are hundreds of ways to do shit.”

  Finley returns to my line of sight, still a distance away from us. Toby adds, “Even falling in love. One day, you’re trying to hook up with a stranger, and the next…”

  Finley appears in front of us, and Toby changes topics, pointing to an older man several feet away. “Scored you guys a spot on Good Morning America when the book releases.”

  “Great,” I say. “What exactly are we writing about?”

  He holds a hand to his chest. “Meeting me, of course. How I’ve changed your lives already.”

  “Totally,” Finley agrees. “We’ve already booked a gig with Cosmo.”

  He lifts an eyebrow. “Cosmo? I’ve got a stack of those in my b
edroom. I’ll be looking for you two.” He gives me another nod. “Dude, give me a call, and we’ll hang out sometime. I’ve got a decoy house uptown.”

  “A decoy house?” Finley and I ask together.

  “Yeah, you know? Where I ‘live.’” He uses air quotes on live and then turns around, heading out of sight.

  That made no sense, but whatever. I know nothing about movie stars.

  I take Finley’s hand and steer her out of there before we get caught up in any more conversations. It’s warm and clear outside, the sky lit up by all that is New York City. “If we weren’t wearing the wrong shoes, I think I’d opt for walking back.”

  Beside me, Finley tilts her head to look up at the sky. “Me too.”

  Instead, we get a cab, and the ride back to our building goes way too fast. I’m not sure why I wanted to leave so urgently, considering there isn’t really anywhere to be alone. But when we approach Finley’s apartment door, she looks at me and says, “You’re coming in, right?”

  CHAPTER 30

  Finley

  Is it a bad sign that Eddie is hesitating? Isn’t that what he meant when he said he wanted to leave?

  “I didn’t mean—I just…” he starts and then stops. “Do you want me to come in?”

  Some of the worry falls away. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

  Once I’ve got the door unlocked, he touches his fingers to my wrist, stopping me again. “What about Elana? And her mom.”

  I touch a finger to my lips. “Walk quietly.”

  This time, I don’t wait for his response. And he follows me, his feet not giving even the smallest creak against the floors. Once we’re in my room, I turn on music, not loud, just enough to keep our voices from projecting outside of the room.

  Eddie glances at my dresser top then picks up a little plaster creature Connor made me in school a couple months ago. “It’s weird being here now. Not strangers.”

  “Sober,” I add. I watch Eddie move around the room, studying objects, keeping far too much space between us. It’s surprising, considering how cool and confident he’d been during the party. Not to mention all the touching. Which I quite enjoyed. “We can just hang out. I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you.”

  “Now that’s a thought…” Eddie turns around to face me. He’s wearing an amused expression—exactly what I’d hoped for—and he takes a couple steps in my direction. “You’ve gone all wild rebel, haven’t you?”

  My foot catches on the basket where I keep all my knitting supplies. “Yep. Totally.”

  Eddie reaches a hand to steady me and then slides his fingers in mine. He looks so far away inside his head, I have to ask him what’s on his mind.

  “I was just thinking…” He pulls our hands to his chest.

  “Yeah?”

  The smallest brush of his mouth against my knuckles sends my heart racing again. But still, Eddie doesn’t make a move. “About the first time we did this and how much I remember and how little you remember…”

  “And?” We both step closer, and the little bit of space between us vanishes. My heart beats fast against my chest.

  Eddie dips his head, his lips touching my hair. “That seems important, you know? And then I was thinking about something Toby said to me right before we left.” He releases one of my hands, freeing it to slide down my back. “He said there’s a hundred different ways to do everything, and I was thinking about how true that is.”

  I’m starting to wonder if Eddie ever had a single shallow bone in his entire body. I wanted him to be that way. It might be the only reason I saw him like that in the beginning. I don’t think he actually did anything to prove this theory.

  I rest a hand on his cheek, moving my thumb over his jawline. “And how do you want it to be different this time?”

  I’m half expecting some humorous if not dirty comment with specifically what should be added to the big event. But instead, Eddie says, “I want you to tell me something I don’t know about you.”

  “Like what?” I ask, but when I see how serious he is, how intensely his gaze locks with mine, I know he doesn’t want a fluffy story; he wants to know me. Even the ugly stuff I keep on lockdown. “After my mom died, when my dad was still in the hospital…”

  Eddie takes my hand from his face and holds onto it. “Yeah?”

  “My grandma had to run to the store, and I promised her I’d watch the boys really closely. She’d been at my house, taking care of us twenty-four seven, and she just needed to get a prescription filled.” I pull in a breath, surprised by how shaky it is. “The boys were in their pack ’n’ play on the back porch sleeping, and I must have dozed off while laying out in the sun. I woke up when I heard the splash. Braden had climbed out of the playpen and walked right into the pool.

  “For a second, I froze up. I couldn’t move. My mom was the one who anticipated these things—she was the one who kept everyone alive. I mean, I knew how to feed the boys and change diapers, but I was too busy with my friends and with dance classes. I think that’s why I froze. If she had been alive, I would have yelled for her. She would have gotten to the pool before me. Hell, she would have gotten there before Braden even fell in. But she wasn’t there.”

  Even though Eddie looks about as haunted by that memory as I am, he still says, “It was an accident.”

  “Yeah, it was,” I agree. “And it wasn’t the first time either of the boys had gotten close to the pool like that. But this time, I was the one jumping in to get Braden. It was so real. She was gone. And I had to be her now. I haven’t been able to stop worrying about them since. My dad teases me all the time about being paranoid and overprotective, but he doesn’t get it. That I have to be. He wasn’t there. I don’t think he’d believe me if I told him it was a sign. From my mom. Or God. Or the universe. I don’t know.”

  I stop talking and look Eddie over carefully. I’m already regretting the sharing session. That’s not a story I tell people. Like ever. “Not what you were hoping to hear, was it?”

  He hesitates long enough to make me nervous and for me to notice how blue his eyes are, even in the dim light of my room. Then his hands are touching my face, and his mouth is on mine. I fall into him, in every sense of the words. And every movement that follows, every touch, is fueled with depth that is so much more than…than before. How much different would it be if I told him something else? Another secret I keep close to me? And something else after that?

  I’m breathless, my hands working the buttons on Eddie’s shirt, his fingers toying with the zipper on my dress, when I think to say, “What about you? Aren’t you going to tell me something I don’t know about you?”

  He stops messing with my zipper and nods. “That night at the party? When we came up here… I’ve never done that before. Not like that anyway. Not with someone I didn’t know.”

  “Never?” I was right about Eddie lacking the shallow player guy persona I pinned him with in the beginning. When he shakes his head in response, I ask, “Why did you do it?”

  I mean, I know why I did it. But him? I don’t know. And hearing that it’s a singular event for him, the why seems important.

  “At first I wasn’t going to,” he admits. “It seemed like a bad idea for me because of—since all that shit happened last winter. But then you just seemed so…different. More. I just really liked you.” He smiles. “Like you. I really like you. Present tense.”

  My fingers slide back to the untouched buttons on his shirt, and I try to imagine being inside Eddie’s head several weeks ago, meeting me, being led into my room…but it’s hard not to add what I know now about him to that memory. It really does change everything.

  “Plus, there was your beer pong skills,” he adds. “That was hot. Big selling point.”

  I laugh. “Told you I only did it to seduce you.”

  “It worked.”

&n
bsp; After I’ve gotten his shirt off, Eddie is still working the zipper of my borrowed dress. “I think…I think it’s stuck.”

  “Huh.” I’m too distracted by forthcoming activities to grasp what he’s saying at first, and then my face is hot for completely different reasons. “I had to squeeze into it.”

  Eddie tugs me toward the bed and sits on the edge. “Turn around.”

  The only light is a dim lamp over my dresser. I’m hoping Eddie doesn’t get a glimpse of any marks on my skin from the constricting clothing. “I can’t believe she’s a size double zero. Then again, she eats, like, nothing and is super tall. I should have worn something else. But shoving everything in did give me cleavage.”

  “I noticed.” I can feel Eddie smiling behind me. His fingertips brush my skin. “Hang on. I’m gonna try to do this carefully.”

  I’d been fine all night in this dress, but now that I want it off and that’s not happening, the material feels even more tight and restricting. I shift from one foot to the other. “Any luck?”

  “Got some tweezers handy?”

  “Tweezers?” I tug at the top and then attempt to lift the bottom and allow some air to flow underneath. “Is it hot in here?”

  “Or I can just use scissors.”

  “What? No!”

  “Kidding.” Eddie plants a kiss on the back of my neck and then rifles through items strewn across my dresser top until he locates a pair of tweezers.

  I continue to wiggle around uncontrollably. Beads of sweat form on my forehead, chest, and back.

  “I think I’ve”—Eddie hands the tweezers forward for me to hold, and then finally, the material gives, and my lungs expand with fresh oxygen—“got it.”

  I sigh with relief while the zipper glides all the way to my lower back. I step out of the dress and rub my sore ribs while Eddie drapes the dress over a chair in the corner of my room. “You’re my savior.”

  He laughs and ditches his shirt, which I left hanging open. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed and turns me to face him. “Completely selfless act.”

  My heart is thudding again, watching him examine the crease lines along my sides. He traces a finger over my skin and says, “Jesus, that really was tight.”