Jane Austen Goes to Hollywood(63)
Author: Abby McDonald

“Lucy’s photostream from Vegas. She didn’t marry Theo,” Hallie declared, gleeful. “She married Rex!”

“Theo’s brother?” Palmer asked. “But I thought you said he was . . .”

“Gay! I know!” Hallie pulled Grace into a hug. “See? It’s OK! Whatever’s going on here, it has nothing to do with Theo. He’s not married, and he’s definitely not with Lucy anymore! He’s free!”

Grace caught her breath, reeling. In barely three minutes, she’d plunged from joy, to misery, and back again, and now the relief was almost too much to take — a sharp thunder of adrenaline in her veins. She clambered to her feet, unsteady.

“I have to go.” Grace took another breath, light-headed, and then said it louder. “I have to go. Now. To Stanford. Where are the keys?”

Hallie shrieked in delight. “Yes! Oh, my God, road trip!”

“I’m in!” Palmer exclaimed.

“No.” Grace scrambled for her bag, pulling her dress back on. “I have to do this on my own, I —”

“Will chicken out the minute you get past Santa Barbara,” Hallie interrupted. “Are you kidding? Of course I’m going to come. Brandon!” she yelled. “Brandon!”

“I’m right here.” He was behind them.

“Oh, OK. Get your stuff,” Hallie ordered. “We’re taking Grace to Theo.”

Brandon raised an eyebrow.

“Please!” Hallie wheedled. “It’s true love! You can’t stand in the way!”

“It’s six hours on the freeway.”

“And you drive so masterfully.” Hallie beamed.

He sighed good-naturedly. “One of these days, I’m going to have to teach you how to drive.”

“Stop!” Grace yelled, interrupting them all. They turned. “You’ve got it wrong,” she insisted. “I just need to talk to him, that’s all. Alone.”

There was a beat.

“We can get the gelato before we go, it’s right by the gas station.” Palmer hoisted her purse.

“Great idea,” Hallie cried. “Road snacks!”

“You girls take my credit card,” Amber added, digging in her wallet. “You’ll need someplace to stay, and I’m not having you at one of those roach-motel places.”

“And no backseat driving,” Brandon warned. “My wheels, my rules.”

Hallie giggled. “Isn’t he so cute when he gets all dour and manly?”

“Come on!” Palmer called, already ahead by the path. “It’s a long way to Stanford!”

Grace sighed. She wasn’t sure whether to scream, or hug them for being such good friends. She suspected hugging would be easier.

“Fine!” Grace told them, as if she’d ever really had a choice. “But I call shotgun!”

Hallie turned out to be right. By the time they cleared Malibu city limits, Grace was already having second thoughts; as they cruised past San Luis Obispo, she was begging them to turn back; and by the time they headed up past San Jose and turned into the campus itself, Grace knew without a doubt that this was the most foolish, reckless, doomed-to-humiliation thing she’d ever done.

“Well, quite possibly, yes,” Palmer told her, in what Grace supposed was a comforting voice. “But we’re here now! Remember why you decided to come at all.”

“A brief mental break?” Grace replied, looking around at the sprawl of Spanish-style buildings, their red-tile roofs lit up under streetlights and spotlights. It was almost midnight, but the campus was still lively — students heading out to parties, or returning to their dorms. Grace swallowed. Her elation at discovering that Theo was not, in fact, joined in holy matrimony had faded a while back. About a hundred miles ago. “Guys, this is a really bad idea. . . .”

“Exactly.” Hallie reached forward from the backseat and gave Grace’s shoulder a squeeze. “But when was the last time you went running off on some random quest, or cared enough to risk everything? Never! This bad idea could be the best idea you ever had.”

Grace didn’t quite follow her logic, but it was too late: Brandon was pulling up outside an ivy-covered residence hall. “Roble Hall . . . that’s him, right?”

Grace didn’t move. “What am I supposed to do, just march in there and tell him how I feel?”

“Pretty much.” They all nodded.

“Brandon, you’re the sane one.” She turned to him, pleading. “Tell them this is crazy.”

“Hey, I’m just the driver!” He softened, looking at her clearly panicked face. “Do it like a Band-Aid: just rip it off, fast. Then, at least, it’ll be done.”

Fast. Painful. That sounded about right.

“But what will he say?”

Brandon gave her a rueful look. “Does it matter?”

Grace stared. Did it matter? She was about to go pledge her affection for a guy who hadn’t even bothered to e-mail in months, who might turn around and run — or, worse still, laugh in her face! Of course it mattered!

And yet . . .

No. It didn’t. Grace realized with a shock that the reason she’d come all this way, the reason she’d even wanted to in the first place, didn’t have anything to do with what happened after she told Theo how she felt. The only thing that mattered was that she tell him. Finally.

Grace took a breath and reached for the door handle. “I’m going in.”

“She’s going in!” Palmer cheered.

“I saw a café-slash-juice-bar-type-place just back around the corner,” Hallie told her. “Come meet us there after. Or, you know, bring Theo along.” She winked.

“Uh-huh.” Grace stumbled down from the car and paused a moment, looking up at the building. This must be how pro athletes felt, trying to psych themselves up for the big game. Or those men who ran with the bulls in Spain: embarking on a reckless mission that may well end in bloody, painful death.

“You can do it!” Palmer called.

She could. Do this.

Oh, God.

Grace hurried up the steps, slipping into the building behind a group of girls in matching team sweatshirts. She waited for the elevators with them, her skin prickling; never so glad that nobody could see the hot flush that was spread across her face. Theo lived on the third floor, and too soon, Grace was standing outside his room.

She raised her hand to knock, then lowered it. He might not even be in. He could be in the library, studying, or out with friends, or even some other girl —