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The doubt in her expression gradually fades, giving way to a glimmer of hope that brightens into an infectious smile.
“Oh my god, G – you’re a genius!”
“The Glow… what?” Henry asks, perplexed.
I chuckle at him before repeating the name.
“The Glow Gala!”
“Ooh,” he replies, letting out a low whistle. “I still don’t understand what’s happening.”
“The Glow Gala,” Eleanor explains, “was this huge community event thrown by the local Parks Department. People purchased tickets for the opportunity to release these glowing – and biodegradable! – lanterns into the sky. It was so pretty, and Georgia got to cover the event for the front page of the Tribune.”
“Yeah, practically all of University Station was there,” I remark. “They must have raised thousands of dollars.”
“There’s no way they didn’t.”
Eleanor nods affirmatively and, together, we shift our attention towards Henry.
“What do you think?” I ask tentatively, suddenly doubting if it’s a good idea after all.
I mean, where would I get lanterns? Where would people park? How would we advertise it? There’s so many questions already and we haven’t even started!
“Well, there’s a lot of questions that would need answering,” Henry begins, practically reading my mind, “but you two are some of the most determined and hardworking people I’ve ever met. I mean, just look at everything you’ve done to keep the Tribune up and running for years, even if no one reads it–”
“Hey!” Eleanor scolds.
“Sorry, El. What I’m trying to say is that, if anyone can do it, it’s y’all. And I know for a fact my team and I will have your back every step of the way. Just say ‘jump’ and we’ll ask how high.”
Eleanor turns towards me, a smoldering look in her eyes and mischievous smirk across herlips.
“We’re gonna get the Tribune back.”
41 | Henry
“Everything okay?”
Georgia’s soothing voice snaps me back into reality, where pages of research documents lay strewn across the small coffee table in front of us.
“Y-Yeah. I’m sorry, princess. I was texting the guys.”
“Oh,” she replies, gingerly setting down the novel she’s been reading for class. “About what?”
“I asked them if they’d help us with the fundraiser. I mentioned the idea of using the garden center… Danny’s mom definitely owes him for all the free labor. They said they’re in.”
“That’s great!”
She smiles, and my muscles instantly relax in contentment.
I’m never more calm than when I’m with her.
It’s almost midnight, and we’ve spent the last several hours at her apartment researching how to throw a fundraising event: where to buy lanterns, how to handle parking, where people can go to take a shit.
Normally, something like this – with so many small details and so much riding on our success – would stress me out beyond belief. It’s that same feeling I’ve always gotten before a really important game: nausea, sweating, panic that it won’t work out. Before Georgia, I’d probably go to the gym for a few hours, run a few miles, then get drunk with the boys until I forget about my anxiety. But, with her, I don’t need any of that. She handles every detail, every setback, every ounce of uncertainty with such grace and determination and intelligence.
If I didn’t already consider her the perfect woman, I definitely do now.
“Henry?”
