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“Says who?”
“Me mum.”
“You don’t have any say?” she asked.
“Of course I do. It’s just, I started so young, right? What say does a five-year-old have? But nowadays it’s not like she forces me.” An awkward half-laugh split his fleeting grin. “Much.” His brows bounced as he dove back into his packet of Milk Bottles.
The playful admission, tacked on for comedic affect, didn’t sit well with Evie. There was a hint of truth, a red flag in his throwaway chuckle. She couldn’t let it unfurl without saying something. “But if you don’t enjoy it—”
“I do—a lot. I love it,” he volleyed back like a polished tennis pro guarding the net. “Going on set, being someone else, telling stories—how many kids get to do that? I’m extremely fortunate.”
Was this another PR-practiced fake answer? Tilting her head, Evie served up her challenge. “Fortunate doing something that makes you feel uncomfortable?” She cleared her throat. “Maybe I’m missing something, but itchy hives don’t sound like a laugh riot.”
“But those angsty feels mean I care.” He rocked forward with a subtle shrug. “I want to do a good job, build a solid career, make my mum proud…”
Evie couldn’t argue with that. She wanted all those things, too.
“…so I have to do everything I can not to screw up. I can’t be shit.”
“You won’t be! I mean, you’re not! You’re super talented.” Evie smiled. “You’re doing what you love.”
“You can, too,” said Nick, popping a candy in his mouth. “Whatcha fancy doing?”
Genealogy, writing—you. A blush heated her cheeks. “Too many things.” She stuffed her hands in her coat’s pockets. If he knew where her future was really headed, it would be bye-bye Nick-endorsed cool, hello boring island girl. Evie cleared her throat, eager to change the subject to something safe and road-tested. “I was in a school musical once.”
“Really?” His voice rose mid-chew. “Which one?”
“Bye Bye Birdie?” Evie snickered. “See, even our school musicals are ancient.”
“What role did you play?” He offered his candy again.
Evie shook her head. “Kim.” She paused, hoping Nick didn’t suss she’d basically played herself—a lovestruck teen mooning over her famous crush.
“Ahh, the girl who wins a contest to kiss Birdie.” Nick sucked on his bottom lip then let it go.
Bugger. He knew.
“Have you seen the film?” asked Nick.
Her eyes widened. “There’s a film?”
“My mum has the DVD. I’ll lend it to you…with Grease 2.” Nick laughed deeply. “This is fun. I rarely get to talk about musicals without being teased. My friends Zach and Kyle are ruthless about it.”
“Well, they’re assholes,” said Evie.
He let out another adorable but brief laugh.
“At least your Mum enjoys them.”
“But she gets all technical, talking about how the singer projected their voice or why a scene was staged a certain way. Every discussion turns into a teaching opportunity. It sucks the fun out of it.” Nick folded down the bag of candy and placed it in his coat pocket. “But you’re a fan. Like me.”
He glanced back to the Ba’, but his words lingered. Kind and inclusive, they swirled around Evie, hugging her tight. She was the keeper of Nick’s secrets and dreams and sincerest hopes for the future…and maybe one day—hopefully—she’d be part of them, too.
Admiring his hair cavorting in the breeze, she settled in, unabashedly adoring his long dark lashes and mesmerizing grin.
His eyes popped wide. “JESUS!”
Evie threw a look toward Broad Street. Thrust up in the air, two teens flipped head over ass, sending spectators scrambling for safety. People pitched backward, others froze, too gobsmacked to move—but not Nick. He seized Evie’s shoulder and yanked her close as the boys landed with a guttural “OOF!”
