She turns to Joanna, looking for support.
“Yes, agree,” Joanna says, her eyes sparkling as she gets into it. “That ending . . .” She puts a hand over her heart again.
I stifle a groan. Meet Me Again is one of Belle’s favorite Grace Kimura classics, the movie that really cemented Grace as Asian America’s sweetheart. She plays a sweet, hapless photographer who has a meet-cute with some jerky guy who runs his dad’s old camera shop—but inexplicably hates photography and knows barely anything about it. He accidentally knocks her camera into the lake they’re both hanging out next to, replaces it with an even better model from his shop . . . and you can guess the rest. In the climactic moment, after they’ve seemingly broken up, Grace’s character asks to meet at “their” spot—the lake—not knowing if the guy’s going to show.
But of course he does. It wouldn’t be a Grace Kimura movie if he didn’t.
I’ve never understood why she wanted to smooch on some asshole who destroyed her most prized possession, but I am clearly not the audience for these kinds of happily ever afters.
“It’s beautiful,” Diya declares. “She puts it all on the line—her heart! There’s that achy moment, when she’s looking out on the lake . . .”
“Probably thinking about her destroyed camera,” I mutter.
“. . . and you think maybe—just maybe—he’s not gonna show,” Diya continues.
“But then he does!” Joanna squeals. “She’s walking away, she thinks he’s not coming, her heart is broken. And then suddenly he’s running after her . . .”
“Which would be really alarming in real life,” I can’t help but say.
“It’s romantic,” Joanna swoons.
“It’s not what would actually happen,” I retort.
“It could,” Henry says, grinning slightly at me. “Are you telling me you never get swept up in that moment?”
I shrug. “I don’t like the idea that she needs him to ‘save’ her. She’s successful, creative! What exactly is he saving her from—because it’s sure not the idea that women need to drop everything for the first loser who shows any interest in them.”
“I don’t see it as saving,” he says, leaning forward. “I see it as showing up—they’re both there for each other, no matter what. They’ll both show up at that lake, every time.”
“I don’t believe that!” I say, throwing up my hands. “Even if she did want that, I never believe the moment when he shows up. I just feel like he wouldn’t—the real ending of that movie is, like, her sitting there all alone. Waiting and being annoyed that she doesn’t have her original camera. No happy ending.”
Henry cocks his head to the side, his gaze turning strangely serious. “I think he’d show up for her. Always.”
“Aww, Baby Hank.” Diya smiles at him affectionately. “You’re the biggest mushy heart of all.”
Henry blushes a little and shrugs, casting a surreptitious look my way.
“Anyway,” he says, “we actually really need to find Grace. Are there any sightings, rumors? Stuff that wouldn’t be out there on social media?”
“Mmm, let’s ask everyone’s favorite gossip factory,” Diya says with a wink. She whips her head around and barks in the general direction of one of the chattering clusters of people. “Clara Mae! C’mere, we need your wisdom!”
A twentysomething woman sporting a platinum crewcut and blinged-out sneakers peels off from the cluster and scampers over.
“Gawd, what is it, DD?” she says, narrowing her eyes at Diya. “You’re in a very yell-y mood tonight.”
“I’m always in a yell-y mood,” Diya corrects. “Have you heard anything about the whereabouts of our illustrious Ms. Kimura? Baby Hank needs to find her.”
“Ahhh, so stealthy,” Clara Mae says, whipping her phone out. “I dunno if our Gracie is secretly a world-class superspy or what, but she’s been very adept at avoiding any kind of exposure.” She studies the screen for a moment, her brow furrowing. “That said, I have heard something. According to my pal who works on the Pinnacle lot, they’re finally doing those last bits of shooting for We Belong—the sets and the crew are all ready to go, and it’s just a matter of our Gracie actually showing up.” She stuffs her phone back in her pocket and gives us an elegant shrug. “Supposed to be happening this week. That’s all I know.”
“Always there with the hot goss, Clara Mae—thank you!” Diya yells after her as she bounds back to her friend cluster.
“There ya go,” Mason says, making finger guns at Henry. “A tip.”
“A tip we can’t exactly follow,” Henry says, leaning back in his seat and frowning. “Security around that set was tight as hell.”
“But you’re in the movie,” I pipe up, trying to work it out. “Maybe you could get us onto set that way?”
“I don’t think so,” he says, his face screwing up with frustration. “My part’s done, and they locked that shit down. I can’t see it working.”
“Mmm,” Mason says. “There’s another way you can get on the Pinnacle lot, though, Baby Hank.”
“Nope,” Henry says, slicing a hand through the air. “Not gonna happen. Already decided.”
“Ooh, yes!” Diya says, her eyes widening. “How could I forget!”
“Forget what?” I say, looking from Diya to Henry and back again.
“It’s nothing,” Henry says, waving a hand.
“Not nothing,” Joanna says, leaning forward. “More like a possibly life-changing opportunity.”
Now they’re all staring at Henry. Three sets of eyes, locked on his every move, willing him to say something.
I turn and study him, too. He looks . . . hmm. I’m not sure how he looks. His eyes have gone to the floor, what I can see of his face is blank, his shoulders are stiff, and he’s lightly drumming his fingers against the tabletop—almost like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
It’s interesting to observe these different shades of him, these slight nuances in mood that color him in. When we first met—god, was that really just four days ago?—I only saw the one face, the one extreme. Then I saw a
