Read Online Just Like the Movies by Kelly Fiore - Free Book Online Page A

could it hurt? You just said that movies have to have a basis in reality. Why would it be in the movie if it was totally unrealistic?”
    â€œI don’t know . . .”
    â€œI just think it’s worth a shot.”
    I frown, trying to weigh my options. “Let me think for a minute.”
    I consider the facts. First, I hate that so many girls flirt with Tommy, and he really doesn’t shoot them down as much as I’d like. I need to get him to focus on me and only me. Not to mention that I want him to love me. And I want him to say it out loud. Preferably with an audience of many so they’ll know he’s off-limits for sure.
    But to make that happen, I know I need to try something different (especially considering that what I’m doing now isn’t getting me anywhere but alone and crying in the rain).
    I look at Lily as she sips her coffee. It’s true that I barelyknow this girl, but maybe it’s better that way. It’s like in the movies, where two people are supposed to be somewhere else but end up in the same place at the same time and the whole plot changes because of one chance encounter.
    â€œSo we’d be in this together, right?”
    Lily frowns. “Well, of course—I can help you if you want.”
    I shake my head. “Uh-uh. No way. If I’m going to attempt this craziness with Tommy, you’ve gotta do the same thing with Joe.”
    Her eyes grow round. “Wait a second! I didn’t mean—I wasn’t going to be a part of this whole thing—”
    â€œThat’s the only way I’m doing it,” I say, interrupting her. “If I know you’ve got as much to lose as I do, then we can help each other—no one would even suspect it. It’s not like we’re friends or whatever.”
    Lily cocks an eyebrow.
    â€œOkay. So say I agreed and I said I’d do it. Does that mean you’re in?”
    I look at her face and I recognize that hopeful expression. It’s almost like looking in a mirror. Slowly, a smile begins to spread across my face, until it’s transformed into a full-fledged grin.
    â€œOh yeah,” I say, nodding. “I am
so
in.”

We stay in the coffee shop until a very irritated barista tells us they’re closing. At that point, we’ve brainstormed maybe fifty different movies—sappy dramas, quirky comedies, indie films, eighties classics: almost nothing was off-limits. Some of the movies were mutual choices, like how we both loved
Never Been Kissed
. Other ones we had argued over—I’m dead set against Disney movies, considering most of them need magic carpets, mermaids, or singing, dancing household appliances. Marijke begrudgingly admitted that I was probably right, although I know she’s still holding out for a glass slipper or magical rose or something.
    In the end, we come up with a basic goal. We have three weeks before prom, which isn’t much time. By then, if we do this right, Joe and Tommy will have fallen ass-over-eyebrows in love with us and we’ll have Hollywood to thank for it.
    â€œOkay, so . . .” I look down at the notebook I’ve been using, then back up at Marijke. “What do we start with?”
    â€œWell, I don’t know about me, but
you
need a meet-cute,” she says.
    â€œA what?”
    â€œIt’s from
The Holiday
—you know, that movie where Cameron Diaz and Kate Winslet switch places? There’s this old producer guy who talks about meet-cutes in the movies he used to make. It’s when two people meet for the first time in a unique way, a way that makes them remember each other.”
    â€œWell, yeah,” I say doubtfully, “but Joe and I have already met. We’ve had classes together. I’ve run into him in the stairwell and managed to make an ass of myself . . .”
    â€œYeah, but does he
remember
you? Could he pick you out of a lineup of girls with dark curly hair?” Marijke