Page 76 of Better Than the Movies
I ignored the knot in my stomach at the mention of next year. “UCLA. You?”
That made him look over at me like I was crazy. “Seriously?”
“Um…yeah…?”
“Why UCLA?”
I tilted my head. “Do you have a problem with UCLA?”
He had a weird look on his face. “No. Not at all. That was just… really unexpected.”
I squinted at him in the darkness. “You’re acting really weird about this.”
“Sorry.” His lips slid up into a half smile. “UCLA is a great school. What do you want to study—unrealistic romantic films?”
I rolled my eyes as he grinned a self-satisfied smile. “You think you’re funnier than you actually are.”
“I don’t think so.” He gestured with his hands for me to go. “Plan of study, please.”
I cleared my throat. I hated ruining the night’s vibes with talk of college. Talk of next year always left me feeling devastated because I knew firsthand how fast everything changed. Life pressed forward with a burning velocity that left all of the beautifully-pressed details quickly forgotten.
Once I went away, nothing would ever be the same again. My dad, the house,herrosebushes, our daily talks; those things would all be different when I returned. They’d fade into the past before I even had a chance to notice, and there would be no getting them back.
Even Wes. He’d been there since the beginning, living his life parallel to mine, but next year it would be different.
For the first time, he wouldn’t be next door to me.
I cleared my throat and said, “Musicology.”
“Sounds made up.”
“Right?” I felt like I had UCLA’s catalogue verbiage memorized after reading it so many times. “But it’s legit and a really, really good program. I can minor in Music Industry and get a certification in Music Supervision.”
“What job do you get withthatafter college?”
“I want to be a music supervisor.” Usually when I said that, I was met with a screwed-up face and the one-syllableHuh?But Wes just sat there, listening. “It basically means I want to curate music for soundtracks.”
“Whoa.” He gave his head a little shake. “First of all, I had no idea that was a thing. But second—that is the perfect job for you. Holy shit, you already do that all the time.”
“Yep.” I took another bite of my s’more and licked off the marshmallow dripping onto my fingers. “And you have no idea; I have shelvesfullof soundtrack notebooks. I cannot wait to get started.”
“Damn.” He gave me a serious look that I felt in my belly. His voice was so deep in the dark of the Secret Area that anything other than silliness felt intimate. “You’ve always kind of done your own thing, Liz, and it’s cool as shit.”
Was it weird that his compliment sent warmth from the tips of my toes all the way to the squint of my eyes? All of the stresses were pushed away with that onecool as shitcomment. “Thanks, Wes.”
“That’s Wessy to you.”
“Yeah, no.”
The moment was broken, but the warmth under my sternum remained, rendering me relaxed and blissfully content to thoughtlessly ramble. “What about you? Where’s everybody’s all-American going to college?”
“No idea.” He leaned forward and moved the fire around with the s’more stick. “Baseball is just getting started, so it’s still up in the air.”
“Oh—so you want to play in college?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you’re good enough…?”
