“The way it ended?” I ventured. “Or just that it’s over?”
“I needed a good cry.” She blew out a long breath. “That’s what’s so great about movies like that. Once you start crying, you can cry about anything.” She turned to me with a watery smile. “What did you think?”
“It was definitely intense,” I said, borrowing a term from her. She nodded eagerly, the look on her face saying,And?
“I was a little confused about one thing. Why was the other guy—her fiancé—no good?”
“Same,” said Lydia. “What’s wrong with having a steady job and getting your hair cut on the regular?”
“But that’s the whole point.” Arden gestured at the silent television. “There’s nothing reallybadabout him except that he’s not Ryan Gosling, and, you know, destiny. That’s why it’s so bittersweet.”
And just a tad unconvincing,I silently added. “Then the theme is basically—”
“Follow your heart,” Arden said at once. “Don’t be afraid to put yourself out there.”
“Go with the guy who supports your career,” offered Lydia.
We paused to give Terry a chance to weigh in.
“Do crosswords and stuff? It keeps your memory sharp.”
“Valid point.” Arden patted her hand. “Then he wouldn’t need to tell her the whole story every day. They could travel.”
On the coffee table, Arden’s phone lit up. She lunged for it, sighing as she read the incoming message.
“What?” Lydia asked.
“I thought it was Miles. He was supposed to call me when he got back to the hotel. Maybe they’re still at dinner.” Her smile lacked conviction.
Lydia took a careful sip from her water bottle, eyes never leaving Arden. “You’re still worried about what’s-her-face?”
“Not all the time. I’ve been keeping busy, you know, concentrating on other things—”
“Like Winter Formal.” Lydia did not sound entirely approving.
Arden rubbed her forehead with the heel of one hand. “In case you haven’t noticed, we are up against the wall, time-wise. It’s the same thing every year. As soon as the weather gets colder, everybody’s like, ‘Okay, fantasy time is over, who can I realistically expect to go out with me?’ And now they’re scrambling to seal the deal. If we wait much longer, every eligible person at our school will be taken! Plus there’s Thanksgiving to worry about.”
Terry and I exchanged a quick look of consternation. “What happens then?” she asked.
“We lose almost a week of school. Which means no one is asking anyone to go anywhere!”
“That’s true. Good point.” Lydia’s voice had taken on a soothing tone I’d never heard before. “But I still think it might be a good idea to give it a rest, just for a little bit. Take a break from all this who’s-dating-who stuff. Think about something besides people’s love lives.”
Arden stared at her, crumpling a tissue in her white-knuckled fist. “Why? Because Miles is going to dump me? Is that why you want me to stop caring about love—because my heart is about to be ripped out?”
“No!” Lydia’s eyes widened. “I just thought maybe you were putting too much pressure on yourself with all this”—she held her hands to the sides of her face, suggesting the shape of a tunnel—“extreme focus. It happens, it doesn’t happen, it’s okay.”
Terry and I nodded.
“As for Miles,” Lydia continued, choosing her words with care, “isn’t it always like this when the debate season kicks into high gear?”
“I don’t know,” Arden said bleakly. “It feels different this time. Worse.” She turned to me. “Was there ever something like this in a book?”
“An elite debate team?”
She shook her head. “Where it seems like the other person might be losing interest. Or even possibly ... cheating.”
Talk about a minefield! There were dozens of depressing examples I could have shared, but it was hard to see how that would be helpful to Arden.
