I slide over to the door and carefully step out of the limo, adjusting my long navy dress as Liz helps my mother. From the front, my dress is nothing special, aside from the luxurious silky material. It’s high-necked and long-sleeved, even though the LA evening air barely holds a chill. But when I start walking, the high slit on the left side shows off both of my legs and the movement of the skirt. And when I turn around on the step and repeat, the crowd’sappreciation is audible. My back is almost completely bare, the dress swooping down to just over my butt with one thin gold chain dangling down my spine.
Amanda swirled my hair into an updo, and Sam went simple with my makeup, letting the dress do the talking.
After posing for a million photos, I speed through the line of reporters, not answering a majority of the questions thrown at me and doing my best to get inside as soon as possible, before Grayson steps foot on the carpet behind me.
We make it to the front doors of the theater just as a raucous cheer alerts me to his arrival.
I tell myself not to look, but of course, I fucking look.
He’s far enough away that hopefully he doesn’t see me completely freeze in my tracks. He’s wearing a standard tux, except his jacket is a dark navy velvet, almost the exact color of my dress. His smile, at least from a distance, seems genuine as he interacts with the fans lined up behind the metal barricades. Any hint of sadness I saw during the press junket seems to have completely faded away.
Which is a good thing. I don’t want him to be sad.
Okay, maybe I want him to be a little bit sad, but I certainly can’t begrudge him for moving on, even if the thought of him moving on does make me want to vomit all over the red carpet.
Liz links her arm through mine. “Ready to go in?”
I nod, letting her lead me away and into the theater. As we walk through, I throw a longing glance at my favorite supply closet of solace and solitude, but we’re ushered to our seats before I can duck away. I force Liz and my mom to let me have the aisle seat because the chances of memaking it through this without needing to step outside for some air are slim to none.
The seats around us fill with cast and crew as well as fans and critics. Jenna wraps me in a big hug before sitting in the seat right behind me. I should have done a better job staying in contact with her, but our relationship is just one of the many casualties of the big breakup. Everything that reminds me of Grayson is just too painful.
I feel him before I see him, the air in the room shifting as he walks down the aisle on the other side of the theater. Liz arranged for us to be seated in the same row but at opposite ends to ensure minimal potential interaction.
We’re right back where we started, barely able to be in the same room with each other. Only this time the anger and hurt are real and not some leftover teen-angst drama.
The lights go down, and I clasp my hands tightly together in my lap. The beginning of the film is easy to watch. It’s mostly me and Jenna, and we’re good together on-screen. The audience laughs at all the right places, and for a half second, I let myself relax. I let myself actually enjoy this monumental moment. That’s me up there on that screen. I’m not just a name in the credits; I’m there bringing my own character to life. I was terrified to step back in front of the camera, and I did it. That’s something I should be proud of, all other drama aside. A smile tugs on my lips as I watch my conversation with my movie dad. Maybe tonight won’t be such torture after all.
And then there he is. In all of his twenty feet of cinematic glory.
I dig my nails into the palm of my hand because hyperventilating at the sight of my ex in the middle of our jointmovie premiere is probably not the best look. How the hell was I so naive all of five seconds ago to think I could do this, let alone enjoy it?
Liz reaches over and squeezes my hand, saving me from drawing blood. I keep a tight grip on her fingers and try to keep my shit together. And I do okay, for a while.
That is, until we watch Isobel and Josh share their first kiss in front of the fireplace and I know what’s coming next. The raw footage Grayson and I watched in Liz’s room all those months ago was enough to shift the entire course of our relationship.
I definitely can’t fucking do it again.
“I need a minute,” I mutter to Liz, dropping her hand and bolting for the door at the back of the theater.
People notice as I make my way up the aisle, but I couldn’t care less. The door to the theater swings shut behind me, and ten seconds later I’m safely stowed away in my closet, my back pressed against the door. I flick on the light, illuminating the metal shelves towering around me.
I shuffle a few steps farther into the tiny room, one arm wrapping around my stomach and my other hand flying up to my mouth, as if that could keep in the sob.
It shudders through me, shaking my entire body until I’m doubled over and unable to catch my breath. The pain of seeing us, of knowing just how real those captured moments were, is more than I can physically bear.
I don’t hear the door open behind me. I don’t hear it shut. But I do hear him.
“Emmy.”
I straighten, but I don’t turn around. My chest heavesas I try to catch my breath while hastily wiping what is surely a travesty under my eyes.
He doesn’t say anything else but just waits for me to collect myself, the tension between us so thick it chokes my lungs.
After a minute, his hand skirts the bare skin of my lower back, and I can’t hold back the gasp his touch elicits. His fingers wrap around my waist, and he pulls me into his chest.
“Do you have any idea how fucking miserable I’ve been without you?” The rumble of his words shudders down my spine.
I want to see him, to read the emotion I know is clear in those blue eyes, but I’m paralyzed, homed in on every place our bodies touch. My back pressed to his chest. His hand on my waist. His mouth tracing the shell of my ear.
