Page 33 of Everything About You
It’s Thursday night, and I haven’t seen Rhodes all week.
Yvette has kept him busier than ever, on errands all over the city. Some run into the evenings, and when he’s been free, his
mother’s friend has guilted him into entertaining her and her family.
I’ve kept our text thread pretty light, and we’ve FaceTimed a couple of times before bed, but luckily he’s forgotten about
my meeting with Sophie and I’ve avoided telling him what happened with Yvette and the resort shoot.
Now, back to the sleepless nights, I head over to the window, past the kitchen island with the bouquet for Celeste from Rhodes,
and I look out over Paris.
I think Sophie was on to something with the whole anxiety medication thing.
I could make this right. There seems to be one option that would be painless: accept the New York position and leave before
the resort show, which automatically gives that to Rhodes. Then Yvette doesn’t ever have to know the truth.
But it pains me to go down that path for some reason. It feels like I’ve barely made my mark here, like Paris would just forget me if I left now. And maybe it’d forget me anyway, and maybe I’m more worried, deep down, that I’d forget it. That I’d forget Rhodes. That he’d forget me.
I hate to imagine Rhodes staying behind without me. I’m sure we’d have every intention of finding each other again, but the
reality is so different. Given enough space and time, he’d realize he doesn’t need me—there’s a whole wide world of guys better
suited for him anyway. What could it be about me that’s worth crossing the ocean for?
That’s a depressing thought, and I crawl into bed, getting smaller and smaller until I’m certain I’m going to disappear.
Rhodes could do better, I know that. He could find someone more successful, more attractive, more everything . Someone with affluence and influence, who brings more to the table than I could even dream of, I’m sure.
I may be ambitious, but we’re not from the same world.
These thoughts are like the devil, but in the dark they’re winning.
Eventually, going over different scenarios a million times, I fall asleep.
I wake when I hear the key in the front door, along with the sound of luggage wheels rolling over the wooden floors. Sunlight
is filtering through the curtains and the city is awake beyond the windows.
“Miloooo!” Celeste calls.
Blinking myself to consciousness, I tap my phone screen. How did I sleep until nine?
Yawning, I pull it together and slide out of bed.
The sight of my reflection in the mirror is a jump scare—my curls going in every direction and my Citrus Harbor Boys’ Tennis T-shirt twisted around from restless sleep I hardly remember—but I pad out into the living room anyway, my pajama bottoms catching the heels of my feet.
I hold my hand up to wave at Celeste, a bit too groggy to be proud of my greeting. She’s wearing one of her beige Lululemon
headbands, an oversized hoodie, biker shorts, and a grin that is refreshing if not a bit confusing.
And there’s someone walking through the front door behind Celeste.
It’s only for a nanosecond, but I wonder if I’m hallucinating or still asleep until it hits me that I recognize that person.
“Noel!”
Celeste looks pleased with herself, and I’m instantly jolted awake by the sight of my brother, who is wheeling in his suitcase.
The corners of his mouth turn up a bit, which is about as much as you can hope for from the guy who was likely born scowling.
His black hair is a bit longer than normal, though it still is better kept than mine ever is, and he has the tiniest bit of
a five o’clock shadow. Noel is taller than me or Celeste, and he’s wearing black soccer pants with a white Clyde Circus training
kit.
I rush over and pull him in for a hug. He wraps his arms around me and grunts.
“You look like you just woke up,” he says when I take a step back.
The door closes behind him and he looks around the apartment.
Noel is a year older, and he plays soccer at Stanford.
I think he wanted to go somewhere else, but he followed his best friend out there like a puppy, which is one of the easiest jokes I can make to get under his skin super quickly.
Celeste hugs me next. “It’s so good to see you.”
“You too,” I say. “I’m really sorry about Gran.”
She hugs a bit tighter. “Thank you.” Then she pulls away. “But now we’re in Paris. And we’re going to have an amazing eight
days.”
I nod, and she heads over to the kitchen island, plucking the card from Rhodes’s bouquet.
“This is a surprise,” I say. “But this is amazing. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” he says. “It’s weird not having you around to bug me.”
“Laura isn’t filling that void?” I ask, knowing very well that he has some bizarre otherworldly patience for our little sister.
“She’s doing her best.”
“Is she upset she couldn’t come?”
Noel shrugs. “She said she wants to wait to visit Paris until she’s getting married. Little kids, you know.”
That certainly sounds like Laura.
“I cannot believe I got flowers from Rhodes Hamilton,” Celeste squeals.
Noel narrows his eyes on me. “You had to pick a Hamilton.”
“Is that why you’re wearing this?” I take the sleeve of his shirt between my fingers.
Lifting his chin proudly, Noel smirks. “I thought maybe he’d be here.”
“They’re not at sleepovers yet,” Celeste says. Then she tilts her head. “Are you?”
“No,” I say.
Noel frowns. “Is he a prick?”
“Why would I like him if he was a prick?”
Celeste plops down onto the couch and then immediately gets up and walks back toward the kitchen. “I have way too much energy.
What are we going to do today?”
“Yeah, Milo, what are we going to do today? Are you going to take us to Maison Dauphine?”
I shake my head. “I took today off. I figured we could find some fun things to do.”
Celeste leans up against the island, gesturing toward her flowers. “When do we meet Rhodes?”
Noel makes a growling noise. “Yeah, when do we meet Mr. Armoury?”
“Dinner, probably,” I say. Then I turn to Celeste. “He said he really wants to meet you.” I glance over at Noel. “I’m sure
he’d love to meet you, but I’m going to have to request you wear something a bit more neutral.”
“Fine,” Noel says. “I’m actually really interested in meeting him, honestly. I bet he’s got a lot of great stories. Imagine
having Ollie Hamilton as your twin brother.”
“Well, he has a lot more to offer than just being Ollie’s twin brother.”
Noel pinches his brows together. “Easy. I get it, I get it.”
Celeste shows Noel to his room, which is smaller than ours, but he doesn’t make any fuss over it. In fact, he practically
bellows “Ho-ly fucking shit!” when he sees the view from his window.
Noel is sort of another best friend in a lot of ways.
Nobody else around us really gets the pressure of being in a councilman’s family, and when our mom opened her boutique and things started to change, we realized that was another storm we could weather together.
We both like sports, and we both are pretty driven and competitive.
We played tennis together all the time, and he taught me to play FIFA against my will, which is where I learned most of my Premier League knowledge.
I’ve cried to him, laughed with and at him, wanted to punch him in the face, and also never wanted him to leave when he first
went to Stanford.
Celeste and Noel both have a lot of energy for having just landed after a long flight, but that’s fine with me, since it’ll
make for a more fun day, and I really need that right now with all the racing thoughts surrounding Rhodes and Maison Dauphine.
They shower and change. Celeste looks cool and stylish, like always, in baggy jeans and a ribbed tank with a black leather
bag. Noel also looks stylish, which is a bit out of character for him, but he’s wearing an oversized graphic tee with carpenter
pants and Adidas. They honestly both look more Parisian than I have this whole trip, I think.
Now that I’m an expert on the Tuileries and the Louvre, we spend most of the day wandering the gardens and the halls of the
museum. Celeste ooh s and aah s over the sculptures and romantic paintings, while Noel marvels and mutters expletives at the scale of the larger art pieces.
We eat at a little cafe inside the Louvre, and the food is surprisingly delicious—even Noel’s practically grinning by the
end of the meal.
Rhodes is preoccupied with errands, but we text on and off all day.
Initially, my entire being is split into two—one half of me wants to talk to him and be with him all the time, eager for this crush to develop into more, while the other half of me wants to avoid him like the plague to try and assuage the feelings of guilt, like I’m betraying him after the conversation I had with Yvette.
Still, I keep it together. I focus on the fact that this is what we signed up for, and that he took the blame on his own accord. I repeat this to myself over and over until the guilt truly does seem to smooth over.
For now, anything could happen, so there’s no use in blowing everything up.
We like each other, and this is exciting and new and fun.
Celeste is here, and she’s brought Noel, and this also is exciting and new and fun.
Everything is fucking exciting and new and fun!
We decide on a restaurant in the 8th Arrondissement for dinner. It’s casual, since none of us will have time to go change,
and I think the more laid-back vibe will help this all go as smoothly as possible.
I’m not sure what I’m more worked up over: Rhodes meeting Celeste and Noel, or the opposite.
The more I try to dive into the thoughts, which I do somewhat obsessively as we make our way to the restaurant, the more I
realize it might be the opposite. After all, Celeste and Noel know me, and they’re important figures in my life. It’s not
so much that I want them to approve of him, I don’t think, but there’s a distinct desire for them to be happy for me. And
I know Rhodes is charming and likable, but I just want this to feel right .
Noel has only ever met one guy—one ex-boyfriend, and while that went well enough, I think Noel had a sixth sense that allowed him to say nice things while never being truly ecstatic for me.
Said sixth sense was prescient, and that relationship did not last long, so maybe that’s why I’m particularly concerned with how Noel perceives Rhodes.
One thing about me? I’m going to find a reason to worry.
“This is going to be so fun,” Celeste says.
Noel, with his hands in his pockets, nods.
It isn’t until we’re standing outside the restaurant that I realize I have a string of texts that make my heart sink.
Rhodes: I am so, so sorry but I’m stuck at this magazine shoot forty-five minutes away and I don’t think I’ll be out of here for
an hour at least
Rhodes: I’ve got to drop the samples back off at MD after as well
Rhodes: You should eat without me. Please tell Celeste and Noel I’m very, very sorry. I’ll make it up to you all somehow
“What is it?” Celeste asks. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is it some Miranda Priestly shit?”
I shake my head. “No, no. Well, I guess kind of. It’s Rhodes. He can’t make it. He’s stuck at a photo shoot.”
Noel harumphs. “I’m sure he is.”
“He is,” I say.
Now, of course, it’s like a tiny seed has been planted in my brain.
Would he back out like that because he didn’t want to meet them yet? Is it too soon for him to meet my best friend and brother? Was it a dumb idea to try to make this happen?
Celeste waves her hand. “No big deal. I mean, we have plenty of time to meet him.”
“Right,” I say. The disappointment stings like acid on an open sore and I’m anxious about the potential for this to be something
bigger, but I point to the restaurant. “Are you guys hungry?”
“ Oui, j’ai une faim de loup ,” Noel deadpans.
Celeste and I stare at him.
“It means I’m as hungry as a wolf,” he says. “What?”
“Since when do you know French?” I ask.
He pats me on the shoulder. “You know, Milo, when one plans to go to France, one should learn some French.”
Dinner is delicious, and it’s nice to hear about how things are going back home. My dad is about to run for reelection, which
he will definitely win. Laura’s making a lot of new friends at her dance camp this summer, and Noel is coaching some youth
soccer programs in his free time with Zack, the friend he went to Stanford with. Zack’s return also explains why Chip has
also been in an especially good mood in the group chat, since they’ve been dating for nearly a year.
I’m surprised how jealous I get when they tell me about how the Fourth of July festival is going to be the biggest ever this
year—apparently one of the local surfers, Foster, is going to compete in the US Open of Surfing, which is the first time someone
from Citrus Harbor has qualified. Because of this, the whole town is celebrating, which is amazing and gives me some FOMO,
even though I’m in Paris and should just be excited about that.
Noel and Celeste are still not tired after we leave the restaurant, so they decide to go out on the town. I am exhausted and can’t possibly hang with them at this point, so I head home to try and get some rest.
Sophie and I are following each other on Instagram now, and she sends me a fair amount of DMs—funny memes, looks she likes,
things to do around New York. When she sends me something about the city, I almost forget that I’ve decided to stay in Paris.
It’s like I have to convince myself all over again every single time.
I pass out around nine thirty, and at around three a.m., Noel and Celeste get home. They’re obviously drunk, laughing as quietly
as they can and rummaging through the pantry. I almost get up and go out to the kitchen to have fun with them instead of trying
to force myself to sleep, but then all the lights go off and it goes quiet when they head to their rooms.
In the morning I wake to a text that makes me sit up, smiling like an idiot.
Rhodes: Are you guys free this afternoon? I found a way to make it up to you