Page 49 of Not that Impressed
Every time I think about my sister being in Mexico with Grayson, my heart starts beating too fast. In the thirty-minute drive from Will’s to my parents’, every time my breathing picks up, he realizes it before I even do.
“Stay calm,” he says in a low soothing voice that makes me breathe slower. “We’re going to do everything we can to get her back safely.”
“Okay.” I squeeze his hand a little harder, and he nods at me.
When we pull up to my parents’ house, the crew’s van is in the driveway.
“Thank you for driving me,” I tell Will as I move to open the door.
He shakes his head and won’t let go of my hand. “You’re freaking out and I understand. But I can’t leave you, Ellie. Can’t,” he repeats. There’s more he wants to say. Even so soon into whatever this is between us, I’m learning to read his intense expressions. His jaw is clenched, and he hasn’t taken his eyes off me.
“Will.” I shake my head at him. “I won’t drag you into this.”
“You didn’t drag me anywhere.” His tone is gruff and grumpy, but I recognize the protectiveness. It reminds me of the way he pulled me close when we kissed, as though he never wanted to let me go. I don’t want him to come inside, where cameras are waiting to capture every bit of drama they can.
But having someone beside me right now? And someone who’s a big, strong man like Will, cliché as that is? I do want that, and I can’t deny it.
He lets go of my hand and pushes open the door. I lift my chin and prepare to go toe-to-toe with Victoria, because there’s one thing I’m going to demand if Will insists on being here right now.
Will rounds the car and opens my door before I get to it. He doesn’t move to take my hand, but he walks right next to me as we make our way up the driveway. He studies the van as we pass, his expression tensing. I open my mouth to tell him to goback to the car, but he shakes his head at me before I can say anything.
Then my phone buzzes as we reach the door. I pull it out, expecting to see Janelle’s name. I gasp when I see Libby’s name and quickly answer, gripping Will’s arm. His fingers drift to my waist, resting lightly there, a reminder that he’s here. Everything has changed in the last week and a half, and it’s surprising how much his touch soothes me.
“Libby!” I cry.
She lets out an exasperated huff. “Calm down. Why is everyone freaking out?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Libby, taking off to Mexico with a guy is a big deal.” I leave off the part where she’s only seventeen and he’s an adult. She’s made it clear that doesn’t matter to her. I swallow and try to channel the calm way Janelle’s been handling her via text.
Libby scoffs. “It’s just for the weekend. Can you tell Mom and Dad to chill?”
I force my voice to stay calm. “Grayson is lying to you, Libby. Trust me on this, please?” And grown men don’t take off with teenagers! It’s all I can do not to shout that at her.
“Of course you believe Will. Ugh. Just tell them I’m fine, Ellie. I’m old enough to go away for the weekend if I want to.”
You are a baby, Libby!
Why, oh why are teenagers so obstinate? So insistent on being grown-ups? I’m only ten years removed from being seventeen, but it feels like a lifetime ago. Was I this oblivious?
“Libby, come home please. You and me and Janelle will go next weekend. It’ll be fun.”
She laughs. “Yeah, we should sometime.”
“Libs,” I try again. “How about I come down and meet you and hang out? You can chill with Grayson, but Mom will feel better.”
“Yeah right. You hate him. I’ll see you Monday.” She laughs again and hangs up before I can say another word.
I look up at Will. All the words I want to say, all the warnings, all the pleas of don’t be so stupid crowd into my throat. I’m on the verge of throwing myself into Will’s arms and sobbing.
He puts his hands on my shoulders. “We can do this, Ellie.” he says.
I draw in a deep breath, and then another, staving off the tears for now. I nod resolutely and lead him into the house.
When we walk into the living room, a camera swings in our direction, and I put a hand up. “No filming Will,” I say. The camera operator, a guy we work with regularly, lowers the camera and looks over his shoulder at Victoria, who’s sitting in one of her usual spots at the kitchen island. Mom and Dad stand from their seats on the couch. They blink at me, surprised, and then share a look with each other. Janelle, who sits up from her perch in a chair across the room, stares at Will and widens her eyes before turning to me.
“Ellie,” Victoria says in a calm, but firm, tone. “Mr. Pemberton chose to come here when he knew cameras were filming. That’s his choice.”
I shake my head. “He did not sign contracts to be filmed, and the schedule says you’re filming Mom and Dad’s date night, which I know is over. Why is the crew still here?”
