“I don’t really know how to do this. Tell me about yourself? I guess?”
“Why don’t we review what you already know, and I’ll fill in the blanks.” Grey turned down the Led Zeppelin playing on the radio. The car was too old for either of them to play their own music, so they’d been listening to the local dad-rock FM station.
Ethan took a big, dramatic breath. “Okay. Name: Emily Grey Brooks.”
“Very good.”
“Age: twenty…seven? Still? Are you twenty-eight yet?”
“Not yet.”
“When’s your birthday?”
Grey looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “April 22.”
“April 22,” he repeated to himself. “Coming up soon. Graduated from—sorry,attendedUSC.” His brow furrowed. “I don’t even know where you’re from originally. Did you grow up in L.A.?”
“No, New York. Westchester.”
Ethan looked at her, surprised. “I’m from New York, too.”
“Yeah, I know,” she said automatically.
“How did I not know that?”
She shrugged. “It never came up.”
“I don’t really know Westchester.”
“You’re not missing much. I miss the city, though; I was there all the time once I started working.” She turned her head the slightest fraction, looking at him as much as she could without actually looking at him. It was easier talking to him this way. “Do you miss it?”
Ethan took his time to consider the question. “I do and I don’t. I miss…I miss how dense it was. I miss the people. I miss that you can’t step out the door without seeing a dozen people from every walk of life. You’re never alone.”
“Really?”
He glanced at her. “Is that surprising?”
“I mean…” She chose her words carefully. “You could be surrounded by people all the time if you wanted.”
“It’s different here. In New York, they leave me alone. They look, sure, but there’s less people coming up to you, less paparazzi. You can just be anonymous. Living there was the last time Iwasanonymous, I guess. I miss that part of it.”
“I don’t think it’s possible for you to ever be anonymous.”
Ethan shrugged, his mouth thinning. “Yeah. Maybe not.”
Several minutes passed without either of them saying a word. Grey presumed he’d already gotten bored of the “getting-to-know-you” schtick, and looked out the window. She was startled to hear him speak again.
“Do you knowmybirthday?”
Anxiety pooled in her stomach. “Why?”
His smile deepened. “You already know everything about me,” he said teasingly.
Grey’s mouth dropped open and her face flushed. “What? Do you think I’m, like, some kind of stalker superfan?” Fucking perfect. Guess that answered the question of how he thought of her: a glorified groupie.
“So you don’t know it?”
“No!”September 3.“Get over yourself,god.” She glanced over at him, at the amusement that crinkled the corners of his eyes behind his sunglasses, and felt a surge of courage. She had to know,now,or this weekend would be unbearable.
