If We Were a Movie

by Kelly Oram

  “Don’t worry,” she said softly, as if trying not to disturb the atmosphere. “You’ll figure something out. I have absolute faith in you.”

  “Thanks.” Her sympathy and understanding meant more to me than any praise ever would. I sighed. “It’s okay. It stings a little, but better I realized it last night while I still have time to fix it than during the showcase.”

  She opened her eyes and smiled up at me. “You’re amazing, Nate Anderson. Do you know that? That you can look at your disappointment so objectively, and use it as fuel instead of breaking from it—that’s why you’re going to be the one to rock the music world.”

  I knew what she meant, and I even knew there was some truth to that—no one succeeded in the music business without a certain amount of tenacity—still, the compliment was startling. Swallowing a lump in my throat, I smiled and started combing my fingers through her hair. I liked playing with Jordan’s hair, but mostly I just knew how much she loved it. She almost always fell asleep when I did it. She said it was relaxing and would melt at my touch. She closed her eyes and let out a quiet moan of pleasure that made me smile.

  We fell into a comfortable silence, both lost in our own thoughts. “You just need something a little different,” Jordan said out of the blue, just as I’d started to drift back into sleep. “Something a little offbeat, but in a good way. You have this adorable-yet-sexy thing going for you, as I’ve mentioned before, so you need some kind of adorable-yet-sexy song to match. Like a love song that’s both serious and playful.”

  I was stunned by her insight. What she was saying made so much sense. And then, before I could say as much, she did something I never, ever thought I’d hear her do. She referenced a song. “You know,” she said, “like that one song.” And then sang, “She’s my cherry pie.”

  My hand stilled in her hair. I was so shocked I couldn’t move. I could only sit there and watch in awe as she kept talking. “That song has it all. It’s sexy and silly all at the same time. You need to try something like that. Only, you should write an ice cream love song. Cherry pie is good and all, but it’s no Double Fudge Chunk. You know what I’m saying?”

  She finally quit talking and noticed the way I was gaping at her. “What?”

  “Did you just reference a song?” I gasped. “An actual song? As in, something that plays on the radio and not on the big screen?”

  Maybe I shouldn’t have gawked so much, but I couldn’t help myself. I honestly never thought I’d see the day. I wasn’t prepared for such a historic moment. She sat up and shrugged, blushing as if she’d just been busted for doing something against the rules. “I told Colin you were teaching me about music, and he’s been trying to help out with your quest to find my favorite song. He prides himself on being a music connoisseur like you, and you know how he gets.”

  “Overzealous?”

  She laughed and nodded. “He’s been making me playlists about things I love. The last one was all about dessert.”

  I burst into laughter.

  She punched my arm lightly but laughed along with me. “I haven’t found The One yet, but I’ve found some good ones. So far I like Taylor Swift’s You Belong With Me the best, and I’m sorry, but I really do love Maroon 5.”

  I sighed as if she’d failed me with that last confession, but really, I think that may have just been one of the proudest moments of my life. My little movie lover was listening to music without me forcing her to. She liked a band because she liked it, not because I told her she had to. Maybe it was Maroon 5, but still. It was progress.

  “All right, I guess I really will have to write you an ice cream love song. Anything to keep Maroon 5 or Taylor Swift from being your favorite.”

  “Music snob,” Jordan teased, and kissed my cheek.

  “Movie snob.”

  She stuck her tongue out at me. I was tempted to mirror the gesture. Thankfully, my dad joined us before I stooped to her level of immaturity. “Good morning. What are you guys up to today?”

  I yawned. “You’re looking at it.”

  Dad chuckled. “Sounds nice. You sure you wouldn’t rather go shopping with me instead? Take pity on an old bachelor and help me out? I have no idea how to pick out a nice suit or shop for a woman, but Patricia’s birthday is next week, and I made reservations at a really swanky place. I want something nice, so I’m hoping to catch some leftover Black Friday deals.”

  Ugh. That sounded about as fun as swallowing tacks. I was still trying to think of an excuse when Jordan said, “I’ll go.”

  Dad perked up like a puppy being shown a tennis ball. “You will?”

  Jordan laughed. “Sure. The best way to shop for a woman is to bring one with you, and I have excellent taste in formal wear.”

  I snorted. “I’ve got news for you, SoCal. Here on the East Coast, flip-flops aren’t considered formal wear.”

  Jordan rolled her eyes. “Just because I don’t like to dress formally doesn’t mean I can’t. I’m a rich kid, remember? I’ve spent half my life at stupid formal events. I had my own cotillion, for crying out loud. I know fashion.”

  Jordan? In some big ruffly dress, coming out to society? I couldn’t picture it. I must have snickered, because I got elbowed.

  “Don’t listen to him, Doug. I’m an excellent shopping partner. We’ll find Patricia the perfect gift and have you looking so handsome she won’t be able to resist you.”

  Dad’s cheeks flamed when Jordan winked at him, but he was desperate enough for help that he forced himself to nod. “You’re a lifesaver. Thank you.”

  He was so relieved there was no way I could try and argue no matter how much I loathed the idea of wandering a crowded mall all morning. So much for lounging around in my PJ’s all day. I didn’t realize I’d sighed until Jordan laughed and said, “You don’t have to come.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll survive.”

  “No, seriously. Stay here. Take advantage of the peace and quiet for a few hours and work on your song. You know you want to. I really don’t mind. I could use a little dad time, even if he’s only a borrowed dad.”

  My instinct was to argue, but after the way Jordan had melded with my family at Thanksgiving dinner on Thursday, I believed she was telling the truth—that she really could use some dad time. It was sad to think she’d never really had a real family before, but I was happy to lend her mine if she wanted it. For all their faults, I had a great family. “Okay. Borrow away. I think I will stay home, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

  Jordan glanced at Dad, looking for permission. He looked surprised, but I think he saw the need in Jordan’s expression too, because his face softened and he gave her his best fatherly smile. “Why not? Maybe I can get my Christmas shopping for the boys done, too.”

  Jordan’s face lit up. “Ooh, perfect. You can give me ideas for them.”

  Dad’s face turned hopeful again. “Can we take your car?”

  Jordan laughed. “Sure. I’ll even let you drive, if you’d like.”

  This time, I joined her in laughing when Dad’s eyes bugged out of his head. He was practically drooling at the thought of getting behind the wheel of Jordan’s Ferrari. “Have fun, kids,” I teased. “Don’t stay out too late.”

  “I’ll get him home at a reasonable hour. Write me an awesome ice cream love song while I’m gone.”

  . . . . .

  After Jordan left, I couldn’t help myself and started writing her a song about ice cream. I started out just messing around because I knew it would make her laugh, but then the more I played around, the more I had something that started to take shape. I called it “31 Flavors of You,” and I actually liked it better than anything I’d written for the showcase so far. The song was unique. Original and fun—like Jordan.

  Once I had all the lyrics written, reading back over them was like being punched in the gut. Jordan was my best friend, but reading this song, I realized she was so much more. There was desire in these verses, a longing that I didn’t know I was suffering from.
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  Startled, I slammed the spiral notebook I’d been scribbling in shut, as if that would erase the revelation I’d just had. I shouldn’t want Jordan that way. She was my roommate. My friend. She was vulnerable when it came to guys, and she trusted me to watch out for her. I couldn’t risk jeopardizing the relationship we already had by trying to complicate it with romance. Could I? Deciding it was too much to think about at the moment, I abandoned my song notebook for my laptop and went to work on the song I was supposed to be writing.

  My brothers who, no surprise, had crashed at Bret’s house last night, came home around four. “Where’s Jordan?”

  “Shopping with Dad.” I shrugged at both of their frowns. “Better her than me.”

  They thought about it for a second and decided I was right. “Call her and tell her to come home soon,” Chris said. “A bunch of people are going to the bowling alley tonight.”

  Yeah. Bowling with my brothers sounded kind of fun. But bowling with a bunch of people—a.k.a a ton of single girls looking for easy hookups—while Chris gave me crap about telling him Jordan and I were dating, and Tyler hit on Jordan all night sounded exhausting. I couldn’t handle two nights of drama in a row, so when they both disappeared to shower and get ready for the evening, I bundled myself up, grabbed my laptop, headphones, and my notebook, and climbed up in the old tree house in our backyard. We used to play in it as kids, but it’d been years since either Ty or Chris went up there, so I figured I was safe. I used to hide in it all the time in high school, and they’d never found me yet.

  I hadn’t been outside very long when I heard someone climbing up the ladder. I was annoyed that my lifelong hiding spot was no longer useful, until I heard Jordan’s voice. “A little help?”

  I opened the hatch and happily took the steaming cups of cocoa from her hands so she could climb up. “The Southern California girl is going to brave the cold weather, huh?”

  She snuggled up next to me in an attempt to steal a little extra heat. “Trust me, it wasn’t my first choice, but when I asked your dad where you were, he told me you were probably up here hiding from your brothers so you wouldn’t have to go to whatever party they were planning to drag you to, and that sounded like a good idea to me.”

  I laughed. “He actually said that?”

  Jordan grinned. “He knows you pretty well.”

  “Yeah, he does. I just hope Chris and Tyler never figure me out. I’ll die if they find my hiding place.”

  “I asked your dad to tell them we left and to go ahead without us, so maybe they won’t come looking this time.”

  And that’s why I loved Jordan. She understood me more than anyone.

  For some crazy reason the atmosphere started to feel a little tense, almost awkward, so I thanked her for the hot cocoa and sipped it as long as I could, but then I nearly spilled it on myself when she picked up my notebook and flipped it open. “So, having any luck with the writing?” She gasped. “31 flavors of—You really did write me an ice cream love song!”

  “Wait, that’s not…”

  My heart sputtered when she began reading my song. I wanted to tear the pages away from her hands, but for some reason I didn’t. I held my breath and watched her curiously. She was smiling almost giddily when she started reading, but her excitement quickly faded into surprise. Her lips parted as she sucked in a quiet breath. “Nate…,” she whispered.

  I couldn’t breathe. She lifted her eyes to mine, torturously slow. What was she thinking? I was going to be sick. “I—” What was I supposed to say? I’d written her a love song. An ice cream love song, but still, it was a love song. And it was definitely for her specifically. “It’s not—”

  “Nate—”

  “I was just messing around after you said—”

  “Nate, it’s—”

  She stopped talking when the back door slid open. We listened for a minute while someone went out into the shed, and a couple moments later Chris was at the back door, yelling my name. “Runt? That you out here, dude?”

  Tyler answered him from inside the shed. “Chris! You seen my old guitar? Cory said he’d fix it up for me if I bring it to him tonight.”

  Chris headed toward the shed. “The black one that’s missing a string? It should be in there somewhere. Where’s Runt?”

  “I don’t know. Probably off getting dirty with Jordan somewhere.”

  Gotta love my brothers. I was used to it, but poor Jordan choked on her hot chocolate.

  “Bull. He’s not that cool.” Chris laughed as he walked into the shed, and then two seconds later said, “It’s right here, moron.”

  I figured they would go inside now, but Tyler must have sat down when Chris handed him the guitar because he started playing it, or, trying to, anyway.

  “That thing’s thrashed, man,” Chris said.

  “That’s why Cory’s gonna fix it, idiot.”

  “Whatever; come help me find Runt.”

  “I told you, man, check all the closets.”

  Chris laughed. “Yeah, right; Runt wouldn’t have the guts. He’s too Goody Two-shoes. She’s his roommate and it’s too soon after Sophie.”

  “I would, if I were him. Jordan’s hot.”

  “You think? She’s cute maybe, but she’s too sweet for me.”

  “No way, dude. She’s sweet, but she’s an athlete. She’s competitive. I was watching a soccer game the other day, trying to figure out what she sees in it, and it was surprisingly brutal. Way more aggressive than I thought. I bet Jordan gets feisty.”

  Okay, they weren’t going to stop. I slapped my hand over my face, ashamed of my brothers. “Should we go down there?” I whispered.

  Surprisingly, Jordan shook her head, grinning as if she were actually enjoying herself.

  “Maybe,” Chris conceded. “She did bruise my shin yesterday.”

  “That’s what I’m saying. I would totally hook up her.”

  Chris laughed. “I dare you to try it. I’d love to see Runt beat you down.”

  “That shrimp could never take me.”

  “He would if you ever put the moves on Jordan. ‘Just friends?’ Please. He’s totally in denial about her. Sophie was right, you know. Maybe he didn’t cheat on her with Jordan, but she’s definitely the reason he dumped Sophie.”

  Tyler groaned at the mention of Sophie’s name. “Shannon told me Sophie’s planning to come tonight.”

  I was starting to go numb from the cold, but there was no way I was leaving my hiding spot now.

  “I know. I’m hoping for a little Jordan/Sophie showdown. I heard something almost went down last night. I can’t believe I missed it.”

  My brothers were such morons sometimes. I snorted accidentally, and it was almost loud enough to get us caught. Jordan waved a hand, shushing me. She was really into this conversation.

  Tyler tried another song on his guitar, but it didn’t quite work with the missing string. He sighed. “My money’s on Jordan.”

  Chris scoffed. “Are you kidding? Did you see Sophie last night? She was like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill, all scorned and crazy. She would destroy Jordan in a fight. Jordan would be more like Vivica A. Fox, protecting her child or something. She’d put up an interesting fight, but ultimately—against a bitter, pissed off psycho?”

  Tyler laughed. “Protecting her child? No way. True, Jordan and Nate have this whacked out married-couple-who-don’t-realize-they’re-married vibe, but if you ask me, she’s just waiting for Nate to man up and make a move.”

  Could that be true? I would’ve paid good money to sneak a peek at Jordan’s face right then, to try and gauge the truth of the accusation, but I did the gentlemanly thing and willed myself not to look her way. I stared really hard into my almost-empty cup of hot chocolate.

  “She wants him,” Ty said. “Trust me. And since she’s the one with the real chance, she’s got more motivation.”

  “I don’t know, dude. Revenge is pretty motivating.”

  “Twenty bucks.”

  “You’
re on. Get up, and let’s go find those two losers before they try to ditch us.”

  I sighed once they were gone and shrugged because there were just no words; at least, none that I could come up with. Jordan found the perfect ones, though. “I think you were adopted.”

  We both burst into laughter.

  Jordan and I hung out in the old tree house until we heard Chris and Tyler drive off and figured it was safe to go back inside. “Where are your manners, Nathan?” Dad asked as I set my laptop on the table and tried to rub some feeling back into my hands. “You’ve turned your guest into a popsicle.”

  “I wasn’t holding her hostage out there.”

  Jordan took off her gloves and blew her breath into her hands. “It’s true. Hiding with him in the cold seemed like the safer option.” When Dad gave her a curious look, she laughed. “I’m a lot more like Nate than your other two sons. I like my excitement in small doses. I don’t think I could handle two nights out with them in a row.”

  Dad chuckled. “Well, next time, try the laundry room. It’s a lot warmer, and there’s a good chance neither of those boys even know that room exists.”

  Jordan’s laugh was marred slightly by her trembling jaw. I handed her the blanket off the couch. “You’re still shivering. Sit, and I’ll start a pot of coffee.”

  “Actually, I think I’m going to go take a nice, hot shower to defrost for a bit. But coffee sounds excellent for when I get out.”

  “Okay.” I was definitely not thinking about taking a nice, hot shower with her. I headed into the kitchen and pulled the coffee beans from the cupboard. “It’s not a pumpkin spice latte, but it’ll be warm. I’ll try to save you some.”

  “And I’ll start a fire for you,” Dad offered.

  Jordan froze on her way toward the back hallway. She glanced at the empty fireplace and her face brightened. “A real fire? Like one that will crackle and smell good and produce actual heat?”

  Dad shot me a questioning look, but I didn’t know what she was talking about, either. “As opposed to…?” Dad asked.