Now and Forever

by Susane Colasanti

  We look at her expectantly.

  “So . . . you’re really bowling?” she asks.

  “I love bowling,” Ethan says.

  “Same! That’s why I’m here. Duh, obviously. My family’s over there.”

  “Cool. Well . . . it was awesome meeting you. Take care.”

  “You take care, too!” the girl warbles. Then she bolts.

  “Awkward,” I say.

  “She was sweet. At least one girl here is impressed with me.”

  “When have I not been impressed with you?”

  “I don’t see you asking for pictures.”

  “Ethan Cross!” I fling my arms around him. “I love you! I’m your biggest fan! Could you pleeeeease take a picture with me?”

  “Absolutely.” Ethan holds his phone out in front of us. We press our faces together, my cheek touching his.

  We smile for the camera.

  20

  [7,106,235 FOLLOWERS]

  Georgia’s trying my yoga class. She’s been saying she wants to try it. I’ve had this queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach about us ever since the Harvest last week. We haven’t really talked since then. It’s not like Georgia to ignore my calls. When she finally called me back, she just said she’s been busy. We’re obviously in need of some quality vinyasa time.

  This part near the end of class, when we sit cross-legged with the backs of our hands resting on our knees, eyes closed, and breathing deeply in lotus, is my favorite part. Practicing silence is a lot harder than it sounds. I always say I’m going to take time to sit like this every day for five minutes. Just five minutes a day to focus on breathing. Five minutes to be completely calm. To be completely in the Now. But it never works out. I’m always too busy or too preoccupied. This is the only time I truly experience being one with myself.

  The class apparently worked for Georgia. She’s acting like her old self on our way to the gym’s juice bar.

  “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk at the Harvest,” I say.

  “No, I’m sorry I acted like such a spaz. There was a lot going on. It’s not your fault everyone was bothering you about Ethan.”

  “They weren’t bothering me. It’s incredible that everyone’s into him.”

  “You handled it like a pro.”

  I smile at Georgia. It’s a huge relief to get back to our normal energy.

  A glaring typo on a sign at the juice bar wipes the smile off my face.

  “Excuse me,” I say to the cashier. “Your sign has a typo.”

  “Where?”

  I point to the its in TRY OUR PINEAPPLE TANGERINE SMOOTHIE. ITS YUMMO! “That should actually be ‘it’s’ with an apostrophe. As in ‘it is.’”

  The cashier gives me a blank look.

  “You can use my marker to correct the sign if you want.”

  More blank look. I don’t know if it’s because she doesn’t understand what I’m saying or because she doesn’t care. “We’re not allowed to write on the signs.”

  “Even when they’re wrong?”

  “My manager said not to write on them.”

  “Maybe you could ask your manager to fix the sign?”

  “I’ll leave him a message.”

  “Thanks.” She probably won’t tell him anything. Very few people are sympathetic to my mission. People who work in stores where I’ve pointed out errors on signs think I’m filing a complaint against them or something. They just don’t get that I’m trying to help.

  Georgia and I take our juices to the side bar. The bar runs against a glass wall that looks out on the cardio floor. There are always hot guys on the machines. We immediately start scoping out guys for her.

  “What about him?” I ask.

  “Who?”

  “Red shirt on the treadmill.”

  “He’s okay.”

  “You don’t think he’s cute?”

  “I could do better.” Georgia smiles into her Rejuvenate.

  “Oh? Like with who?”

  “Kurt.”

  “Wait. Kurt? As in Kurt who sent you some lame texts and then went MIA?”

  “Things change.”

  “He asked you out?”

  Georgia nods.

  “That’s awesome! When?”

  “Last night. It was amazing. I didn’t think he’d ever talk to me again.”

  “Why did it take him so long?”

  “I don’t know. It’s weird. This whole time I thought he was avoiding me because he didn’t like me. He even ignored me when I went up to him last week. I saw him at his locker and said hi and he hardly even looked at me. That’s what I was trying to tell you at the Harvest. But it’s all good now. He called me last night and we talked for over an hour.”

  “But then why did he ignore you last week?”

  “He said he was nervous. Seeing me in the hall suddenly caught him off guard or something.”

  “When are you going out?”

  “Next Saturday.”

  “Where?”

  “He said he wants to surprise me.”

  “Love that.”

  “Right?!”

  “What are you going to wear?”

  “I’m not sure. How do I know what to wear if I don’t know where we’re going?”

  “Just do jeans and a dressy top. You’ll be ready for anything.” I’d love to discuss her date ensemble in detail. But Georgia isn’t really into clothes. Her style is more tomboy than girly.

  “So guess what?” I say.

  “Martha Stewart invited you to her next dinner party.”

  “My mom’s letting me go on part of Ethan’s tour.” I smile into my Replenish.

  “Seriously?”

  I nod.

  “But where will you stay?”

  “At Ethan’s hotels. The only reason my mom’s okay with it is that I’ll have my own room. She doesn’t need to know that my room and Ethan’s room will technically be connecting rooms in a suite. We can go in and out of each other’s rooms without his bodyguards or anyone knowing.”

  “I thought he didn’t have bodyguards yet.”

  “He has to get them for the tour.”

  “That’s intense. Who would have imagined Ethan Cross would have bodyguards one day?”

  “Ethan. He imagined all of this a long time ago.”

  “Truth.”

  “I seriously cannot wait for the tour.”

  “It sounds amazing,” Georgia says. Only she says it with less enthusiasm than I was hoping for. I’ve been dying to tell her about the tour so we could both freak out. Buzzing with anticipation over her freaking out was making me even more excited for the tour.

  Why isn’t she freaking out?

  Georgia pulls the latest Seventeen magazine out of her bag. She flips to a dog-eared page. “Let’s take this relationship quiz.”

  “Bring it.” Ever since Ethan and I started going out, I’ve loved taking these quizzes. They always say that Ethan and I are perfect together. Not that I need a quiz to tell me that. We love being together. We make each other happy. And we have tons in common. That’s why we’ve been together for over eight months.

  Georgia reads the first question. “On a typical Saturday night, you and your BF: A. Do dinner and a movie. B. Stay in and snuggle on the couch. C. Avoid making plans, opting for spontaneity. D. Attend a book reading.”

  “C,” I tell her. “We’re all about being spontaneous.”

  “In Far Hills?”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “I’m going with A. Kurt’s probably planning something classic for our first date.”

  “I can’t wait to find out where he takes you.”

  “Dude. I’m getting nervous just thinking about it. Next question. The scenario that best describes your ideal relationship is: A. Going out with mutual friends every week. B. Lots of kissing and romantic gestures. C. Sharing exciting new adventures. D. Geeking out over activities you both enjoy.”

  “Hmm. Can I pick A, B, and C?”

  “Nope.
Only one.”

  “This is too hard. They should ask which scenario best describes the relationship you don’t want.”

  “Really. Like, which scenario best describes the worst relationship ever? A. Long-distance. B. All of the above.”

  “You were right to break up with Andy.”

  “I know. I’m feeling much better about it now that I’m going out with Kurt.”

  “Now that Kurt’s about to be your boyfriend.”

  “Don’t jinx it,” Georgia warns.

  “I know what I don’t want.” I point to a profusely sweating, overweight, middle-aged guy huffing on an elliptical. More like dying on an elliptical. “Please tell me that’s not my husband in twenty years.”

  “Ethan would never get sloppy. He’s too gorgeous.”

  “Maybe that guy was gorgeous in his teens. We don’t know.”

  “But we know what we want. And we know what we don’t want. So the chances of ending up with the right person have already increased dramatically.”

  Georgia’s right. Finding the best relationship is all about visualizing what you want and then refusing to settle for anything less. That’s why I’m so happy with Ethan. We have the ideal relationship. Minus spending all this time apart. But like Ethan said, things will get back to normal. Probably not soon. But eventually.

  21

  [7,814,995 FOLLOWERS]

  I remember the first time Ethan talked to me. It was March 21. I remember how blue the sky was that day. Almost impossibly blue, like I was watching a movie where the color of the sky had been enhanced. My first thought when I woke up that morning and saw the sky was This will be a good day.

  Ethan came up to me at my locker before algebra. I was trying not to freak out. Ethan Cross was the cutest boy in our class. In the whole school, even. I’m not the kind of girl the cutest boy talks to.

  “Hey,” he said. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  “Hey.”

  “I like your purple streak.”

  “You do?” I touched my hair self-consciously. I couldn’t tell if he was teasing.

  “I do. It’s badass.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What shade of purple is that?”

  “Purple Haze.”

  “Nice. Are you into live music?”

  “Who isn’t?”

  “Do you want to go to a show with me this Saturday? Overlord is playing at The Space in New Haven. Have you been there?”

  “No. I mean, yes, I want to go, but I haven’t been there.”

  “You’ll love it. Pick you up at seven?”

  “Okay.”

  I was in a purple haze for the rest of the day. Going through the motions. Not hearing one word my teachers said. Going home and spacing out on my bed and getting halfway through cooking dinner before I remembered that Mom wanted to order in. I couldn’t believe I was going out with Ethan Cross.

  We’ve been inseparable ever since.

  Or . . . we were. Before Ethan blew up. I hardly see him anymore. Ethan’s mom finally convinced his dad that private tutoring was the only viable option. He’s been officially pulled out of school. Ethan has tutors for each subject who meet up with him at home or in the studio where he’s rehearsing for his tour. They’ll travel with him when his tour starts.

  Actually, an entire entourage will travel with him. I had no idea how many people were involved in a tour. Not only are there the essential players—Ethan, Gage, Drew, Stefan, Zeke, his choreographer, his vocal coach, his nutritionist, his stylist, his bodyguards—but the whole crew is like fifty people. There are experts who take care of the instruments. There are roadies in charge of setting up and breaking down the stage. There’s a lighting director and a makeup artist and a costume designer. Plus a lot of these people have assistants.

  My boyfriend rolls deep.

  Ethan explained all of this to me over the phone. He’s been spending most of his time rehearsing and doing marketing stuff. And he’s on a major radio/TV promotion spree. I haven’t seen him in eight days.

  “I miss you,” Ethan tells me on the phone.

  “When can I see you?”

  “Tomorrow. Wait, let me check . . . crap. I’m not going to be here.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “New York. I’m booked for the Today show.”

  “Oh, yeah. I can’t believe I forgot. That’s huge.”

  “We have to get there crazy early. Then these big record execs are taking me to lunch. Then I have an interview with Details that afternoon.”

  “Big day.”

  “I’m already exhausted.”

  “What time will you be home?”

  “Probably not until midnight. Zeke wants me to have dinner with a few of his people.”

  “So . . . when can I see you?”

  “What are you doing right now?”

  It’s nine thirty on a school night. I was doing my homework when Ethan called.

  “Nothing,” I say.

  “Is your mom home?”

  “No.”

  “Can I come over?”

  The thought of seeing Ethan after all this time makes my heart race. Feeling his lips on mine. His hands all over me. Pressing up against each other in bed. I can’t wait to touch him again. I know I should finish my homework. But it’s been forever.

  “How fast can you get here?” I say.

  22

  [8,477,090 FOLLOWERS]

  Ethan and I are going to an über fancy benefit tonight in New York City. It’s at the Waldorf Astoria. I’ve wanted to go to that hotel ever since I saw Serendipity. The scene where Sara is waiting by the elevators hoping that Jonathan pressed the same floor she did was legendary. The benefit is one of those twenty-thousand-dollars-a-plate functions guaranteed to be packed with celebs. I can’t believe I’ll get to see so many of my favorite actors in one place. We’re taking a stretch limo there and back. It will be my first time in a limo.

  Tonight is going to be fantastic.

  I started getting ready early this afternoon in an effort to look perfect. Or as perfect as I can hope to look. It took me over two hours to get ready. Half an hour of which was spent creating smoky eyes. My dress is floaty, my heels are four inches, and my clutch is beaded. Hopefully, I look presentable.

  “You look like a doll,” Ethan says when he sees me. He rang my bell even though I told him I could meet him out at the limo. He wanted to escort me down the walkway. He’s such a gentleman.

  “Thanks,” I say, blushing. “I’ll get my coat.”

  “Make sure it’s a warm one. It’s freezing.”

  The only coat I have that’s dressy enough for an event like this has no insulation. But we’re just going from the limo to the hotel and back. I take the long, thin, black coat out of the hall closet. Ethan comes up behind me, taking the coat from me.

  “Let me help you,” he says.

  He holds the coat open. I slide my right arm in, feeling Ethan’s breath on my neck. Ever since he came over last week after we hadn’t seen each other for eight days, there’s been this electricity between us. I mean, there’s always been electricity between us. But now it’s supercharged.

  I slide my left arm in. Ethan hugs me from behind.

  “How are you so beautiful?” he says.

  Melting. In. The foyer.

  We go out to the white stretch limo. No paparazzi are around. I guess they’re all waiting for us at the red carpet. The chauffeur gets out and comes around to our side. He holds the door open for us.

  “Thank you,” I say. A chauffeur holding a door open for me is so fancy I’m almost embarrassed. Ethan climbs in. The door closes behind him.

  I can’t believe how much room there is back here. There are condos in my building smaller than the back of this limo. The space is tricked out with a mini fridge, two video screens, a tray of champagne glasses with an ice bucket, tons of snacks, and throw pillows. We could live here for days.

  The partition between us and the ch
auffeur is up. We could do anything back here. He would never know.

  “This joint has a sick sound system,” Ethan says. He turns on Z100. Then he reaches for two champagne glasses. “May I interest you in an adult beverage, mademoiselle?”

  “They have adult beverages?”

  “Soda is very adult. Some refer to it as bubbly.”

  “Well then please pour me some bubbly, sir.”

  “Right away.” Ethan fills our glasses with Coke. “Here’s to a magnificent night.”

  “Cheers.” We clink glasses. I’ve never felt so grownup.

  “Any news on the new album?” I ask.

  “We talk about me too much,” Ethan says. “How are you doing with all this?”

  “All this what?”

  “The rock star girlfriend thing. Is it working for you?”

  “Oh yeah.” I slide closer to Ethan. “It’s working.”

  “You’re not overwhelmed?”

  “The paparazzi can be a little scary. But then there are nights like this with glitzy swag bags and major celeb sightings. So it all balances out.”

  “How’s it going at school?”

  “I miss you. So much.”

  “Sorry I’m not there for you more.”

  “It’s okay. Being the world’s biggest rock star is more important. But Miles and Reyna keep asking about you.”

  “I owe Miles a call.”

  “He really misses you. He doesn’t like to show it, but he does.”

  “Have I turned into a horrible friend?”

  “It’s nothing a call won’t fix.”

  “Okay, I’ll call him. What else is going on with you?”

  My idea for that cooking video series has been taking shape. I keep thinking about which recipes and techniques I want to share in the first few segments. But I’m not ready to tell Ethan about my idea yet. I don’t want to share it with him until I have a solid plan.

  “You know,” I say. “Yoga. Cooking. College apps.” It’s weird that Ethan’s not applying to colleges with me. I assumed we’d be navigating the whole process together. He’s not even going to college.

  “How’s Gram?” he asks.

  “Back to her old routine. Killing it at bingo. Baking up a storm. Having her back home is such a relief.”