s i x t e e n
“I watched him with wonder like the stars watch the moon,
falling in love with every crescent, dark side, and dream.”
—Piper Payne
I think I’m falling for Zach. Hard.
We’ve been on a few dates now. He even took me to watch a taping of one of his shows at the studio and introduced me to the rest of the cast.
Going out with Zach is my only break from school and the campaign, especially since I’ve ruined my relationships with Antonia and Sam. Zach’s chosen most of the places so far, but tonight I’m taking him out—or at least I’m telling him where to go since Mom and Dad have still been too busy to teach me how to drive.
I haven’t called Sam. It’s probably for the best.
Do friendships between men and women always end in hurt feelings? Maybe there’s a certain age you get to when you can’t be best friends with a guy anymore. Maybe those expectations have been there below the surface for a long time. I need to focus on myself anyway. After our date last week, I couldn’t stop thinking about how Zach has the confidence to pursue his dreams outside of school without letting the rest of his life hold him back. Why can’t I do the same?
When Zach knocks on the front door, I feel my stomach cramp. Or are those butterflies? Either way, Mom and Dad aren’t home. Early December means that the fund-raising process is gearing up before Dad announces his campaign in January. They know I’m going out with Zach in general, but they don’t know we’re going out tonight. Dad still doesn’t want me going out at night. I have to make sure I’m back before they get home.
“Look at you,” Zach says, grabbing my fingers and guiding me through a twirl. It feels silly, but also so romantic I could melt. “You look fantastic.”
I blush.
“Have you always been this smooth?” I ask him, practically laughing. “Or did you have to practice?”
“You ready?” He puts his arm around my waist and squeezes. I tense up for a moment, but I try to relax. I’m not used to people touching me. The air outside is chilly and being wrapped in his arms spreads warmth throughout my whole body.
“Where are we going?” Zach asks.
“It’s still a surprise,” I say. “Let’s go. I’ll give you directions.”
Zach and I jump into his car. I look at the map on my phone while giving him directions. I end up taking him the long way just because I want to spend more time alone with him. I want to savor every moment. I want to memorize the lines on his hands as he grips the steering wheel and the sound of his laughter.
Traffic’s busy on Wilshire as Zach navigates through Beverly Hills past the chic shops and the palm trees in the center divider wrapped in tiny glowing lights for the Christmas season. He keeps trying to trick me into telling him where we’re going, but I just tell him to keep driving. After what seems like forever, I direct Zach around a corner into LACMA’s underground parking garage. He starts laughing.
“Of course you would take me to a museum,” he says, pinching my neck. “It’s kind of funny, but I’ve never been here. I’m always too busy.”
“This is one of my favorite places in the city. It’s kind of touristy,” I admit, “but I think you’re really going to like it.”
We head for the museum, holding hands without talking. It feels so comfortable to even be silent next to him. There’s a family with a few small kids walking from the parking garage to the museum, but the area isn’t as busy as I expected, which makes the moment even more romantic because we’re practically alone.
“Is the museum closed?” Zach asks.
“Not this part,” I say. “I can’t believe you haven’t guessed already.”
“I’m not as artsy as you,” he says.
“It’s a landmark. It’s already been here for years.”
We walk around the concrete building of the museum to find a large installation of around two hundred restored antique cast-iron lamps. The lamps are painted white and are lined up in rows that ascend in height from the outside to the center. The bulbs glow with a pure white light that seems almost heavenly in the dark Los Angeles night.
“It’s even more beautiful than the last time I came,” I say, gazing up at Zach. I love this place. The atmosphere takes you back to another century. “What do you think?”
“It’s amazing,” Zach says, pulling me close to him. “It’s so simple, but so striking.”
“It’s sad to think that all of these beautiful street lamps could have gone to waste,” I say, putting my arms around his neck. “I’m glad the artist saved them.”
“Me too,” Zach says, pulling away. “Let’s see what this thing looks like from the inside.” He grabs my hand and starts pulling me toward the center of the installation.
We navigate around the rows of lights separately, nearly bumping into each other then slipping away. I keep my eyes trained on Zach so I don’t lose him. It’s almost like walking through a labyrinth of light. Zach fakes like he’s hiding from me. When I reach out to grab him, he dodges my arm then somehow spins around and ends up behind me.
“Got you,” he says, pulling me into him.
“Not for long,” I say. I turn around and look up at him.
I can’t believe I’m staring into his eyes. The green eyes I always thought I’d be trying to catch glances of for the rest of my high school career. I feel like I’m in a movie.
“What can I do to make you stay?”
Dad’s campaign surges into my thoughts. If he wins, I would have to leave Zach. That’s the last thing I want to do right now.
He entwines his fingers with mine.
“That’s not something you have to worry about,” I say, laughing his question off. “I’m not even really that sure why you like me.”
“How do I love thee?” Zach asks sarcastically. “Shall I count the ways?”
“No. Definitely not,” I say, trying to pull away from him. “I probably sound like I’m trying to fish for compliments.”
He holds my hand tighter.
“Sorry. It was a bad joke, but there are honestly a ton of things that I like about you, Liv. It sounds like a ridiculous thing to say, but you’re a deep person. You think about things on another kind of level that other people barely ever do.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I don’t mean to bring her up, but take Cristina for example. All she ever talked about was how great she and her friends were. Or what kind of kombucha is the best for hangovers. Stuff like that. I don’t think I’ve ever talked to her about an actual book. She doesn’t even read Vogue. She just looks at the pictures.”
“So you guys are really over then?” I ask.
“I’m not seeing anyone besides you,” Zach says. “And I don’t plan to.” Does he mean that he wants to be exclusive? That he wants to be an official couple?
Couple is such a weird word. Two people who are closely associated, who are of the same sort. I start thinking. Are we of the same sort?
I hope so. I’ve needed someone to love for so long.