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cities popping up occasionally and disappearing before I can begin to guess where we are.
    Every mile takes me farther from Graham.
    And every mile makes me less sure that what happened between us actually happened. It’s like a dream. All of it. I tried to explain to Dad what had taken place—the share-with-your-parent version, of course. I didn’t tell him Graham came to the hotel last night. Or that I texted him at 2 a.m. But he knows something’s up—more than just meeting a friend for breakfast. He’s given me a couple of sidelong glances I’m probably not supposed to have noticed. He knows that Graham has all of a sudden become significant. I don’t know how to explain myself. I know what I feel; I’m just not sure how to make it sound as sensible as it seems to me.
    I turn it all over in my head. Neither of us said the words, but they hung over our heads like a shared thought bubble: I love you . I can’t reconcile the fact that the words seem both too soon and past due.
    Emily will help me sort it out. Before I left for New York, she asked me if I was falling for Marcus. We’ve gone out together several times, the four of us. Emily’s boyfriend, Derek, is one of those guys who gets along with anyone; so is Marcus, usually. Which makes it all the more odd that they don’t seem to relate to each other. Emily and I have watched the two of them talk, and we decided they’re like polite coworkers, or neighbors who’ve never seen the inside of each other’s houses, and don’t really need to, thanks.
    We shrugged and said, “Boys,” though it annoyed us both.
    I text her right before takeoff.
     
    Me:  I have news
    Em:  You changed your mind and aren’t going to move THOUSANDS of miles away from me?
    Me:  Um. No. That’s still happening. I thought you were okay with it? :(
    Em:  Of course I’m not ok with you leaving Cali! I’m going to miss the shit out of you! What is this news of which you speak?
    Me:  We ran into Graham
    Em:  Get OUT. MILLIONS of people in nyc… and you run into the hunky, mysterious costar with whom you shared a steamy hotel room moment?
    Me:  You’re reading those trashy romance novels again, aren’t you
    Em:   I dunno what you’re talking about
    Me:  ANYWAY. So graham has a daughter.
    Em:  WHAT?!?!?!?
    Me:  And also, we’re sort of seeing each other now.
    Em:  WHAT?!?!?!?
    Me:  Gotta go. Getting the evil eye from flight attendant. Meet me at home at like 3.
    Em:  I’m just… WHAT?!?!?!?
    ***
    Two minutes after we land and right after I power it up, my cell is ringing. I’m surprised to see Dan’s name in the display, but he did warn me he’d have School Pride promos set up and we’d discuss them when I returned from my “little college tour.” I didn’t know he meant we’d talk about them the very minute I got back. My energetic agent is probably on high alert, though I suppose he doesn’t really have any other setting.
    “Hi, Dan.”
    “Emma, glad you’re back. I have a tentative schedule of interviews, appearances, etcetera for you— Ellen , by the way—woot!—we can go over that in a moment, though, because first I really have to ask—are you absolutely certain about this whole college slash career-killing slash no-more-movies decision? Because I’m getting tons of calls about parts you’d be perfect for—”
    “No, Dan. I’m sure.”
    “Now hear me out just a moment—the call that came in this morning was actually an action flick and you’d need some personal training to get all badass of course, but hey if Linda Hamilton can do it for The Terminator sequel—oh, I guess that’s before your time, though—” he chuckles and I take that opportunity to try to stop him again.
    “Dan, seriously, I’m sure that I’m not interested. But thank you. Really.”
    He sighs in his long-suffering agent manner. “You’re killing me, Emma. Killing. Me.”
    This is not an appropriate time to laugh. Not even if I can picture