Page 56 of How to Write a Rom-Com

“Sounds kind of abrupt, don’t you think?” I ask Elle, showing her my phone.

“Only to someone overthinking the situation who may or may not have hinted at the fact that she has hard and heavy feelings for this man last night,” Elle says matter-of-factly.

I spend the rest of the night thinking about it, about Liam. Hours later, once we’re both settled on the couch with the television on, Elle turns to me.

“What if you actually got together with Liam? What would that look like?” Elle asks. It’s comforting to be sitting next to her again. As fun as it’s been to be on my own, being able to dance in my underwear or go to the bathroom without closing the door, I’ve missed my best friend.

“I don’t think I can let myself picture that right now. Not when there is a good chance I won’t see him again after next week,” I say, running my fingers through my hair. I pull a blanket over me and snuggle myself further into the couch. The last twenty-four hours have been draining. The lastweekhas been draining—ever since my trip up the mountain with Liam, things have been tough. Thankfully my mother texted me soon after Elle got here to say she had landed and was on her way to see Josie, and she would call when she could.

“You’ve thought about it, though.Everyonethinks about it,” Elle prompts.

“Of course I have, but it feels like a dream.” I sigh. “I have to go back to my life in the city because that’s what’sreal.”

“But Liam is real. Your feelings for him are real. What’s happened to you here, that’s also real. You’re doing yourself a disservice if you can’t admit that,” Elle says, placing her hand on top of mine.

“The truth is,” I start, but I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence.Why is it so hard for me to say it?Why can’t I just admit what I want?

“The truth is what? What do you want, Lucy?”

“Sometimes I really think you can read my mind,” I say, warily.

“I just know you,” she says with a comforting smile. “You think about everyone else and then alter your actions to fit what you think their reaction is going to be. You can’t go on like this.”

“You sound like Liam,” I mumble. Elle looks at me curiously. “He asked me what I would do if money or my parents didn’t matter, what was the first thing that came to mind.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said being an editor was my dream, and that dream was in the city.”

“And did you mean it?” she asks, widening her green eyes at me.

“Yes,” I reply, almost automatically.

“I feel like you’re saying that because you feel like you have to,” Elle says, turning her body to face me. “Don’t you feel like this trip has changed you?”

“I love it here,” I admit. “I’m… at peace here. In New York, I’m in a constant state of ‘avoid that pile of garbage on the street, dodge that cab crossing 6th Avenue, try not to gettooupset when I see dogs that have no grass to run around and play on,’” I ramble. “But that doesn’t change the fact that publishing is my dream.”

Elle doesn’t have to say anything for me to know that she thinks it’s all bullshit. The expression on her face says it plainly. “I mean—it really is my dream. I’ve waited so long for it.” I throw my arms in the air, thrumming with frustration. “Why does no one believe that I know what I want?” Elle is taken aback by the tone in my voice. “I’m sorry, but first Liam and now you. I love my job. I will be so happy when I get the promotion. It’s what I’vealwayswanted.”

“Just because it’s what you’ve always wanted doesn’t mean you can’t change your mind,” she says, her eyes wandering to the lake.

I follow her gaze. “Thiswon’t change my mind. I’m here to do a job, and next week, I’ll be back in the city. That’s it.” But even as I say it, I know my voice lacks conviction.

*

The next morning, Elle climbs into bed with me, her face bright and refreshed from a good night’s sleep. Mine, after hours of relentless tossing and turning, tells a very different story.

“Yes?” I croak, groggily.

“I’ve developed a plan,” she announces.

“Does it involve breakfast?” I mumble, rubbing my eyes.

“Yes, but after that, it is going to beGet Lucy on Track Day,” she proclaims.

“Get Lucywhat?”

“Alright, I admit the name is a bit rough, but it’s the thought that counts,” she says, grinning.

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