Emily cups her hands around her mouth to get a good projection going. “I’ll turn on the hose and shoot a stream of water at James’s window when we’re on our way out, so you know the coast is clear to come home and make sweet, sweet love to Amelia!”
Noah tries his very best not to smile, but we can all see it there, lurking. He looks at me next. “Nothing from you?”
I shrug. “Tell James I said hi.”
My sisters and Amelia all boo, and Noah just grins at me. “I like you the best.”
He turns and leaves, but no sooner has the front door shut behind him than it opens again. Noah storms back inside. He walks around the back of the couch where Amelia is sitting, puts his hands on her jaw, and tilts her face up so he can kiss her goodbye.
When I first saw Noah and Amelia together as a couple, I was shocked. Well, we all were. The affection between those two was so easy and freely given. I’ve never seen Noah like that with anyone else. It’s inspiring watching the way they have managed their long-distance relationship all while dating within the limitations of Amelia’s fame.
“Ew,” says Madison with a disgusted laugh. “You’re going to kiss her Spider-Man style? It wasn’t a good look for Tobey, and it’s not a good look for you either.”
Emily throws a pillow at Maddie, and she deflects it with a karate chop.
“I love you,” Noah says in a whisper to Amelia after the kiss, but I’m sitting close enough to hear it.
I smile down at my lap because I adore Amelia and Noah’s relationship. I think it must be similar to what my parents had. Sturdy, deep, and dependable. And they sure look at each other with hearts in their eyes just like I’ve seen in all the photos of my parents. It’s the kind of love that just works and makes everyone around them envious. It’s what I want. The superglue-sticky, not-going-anywhere, till-death-do-us-part relationship. Someone to step up beside me and lend me his hand where we’ll walk happily together through life.
Noah eventually leaves, and Amelia’s cheeks are completely pink as we watch my personal favorite out of all of Audrey Hepburn’s films, Funny Face. I deeply relate to Jo—the character Audrey plays. Jo works in a bookstore （which would be my dream job if I didn’t already have a dream job owning my own flower shop）， and she is considered quiet and introspective, maybe even a little plain.
But in the movie, Dick Avery （who is played by Fred Astaire）， a famous fashion magazine photographer, spots Jo and sees something in her that isn’t plain or quiet at all. Together, he and Maggie Prescott, the editor of Quality magazine, sweep Jo off to Paris, where they pull her out of her shell, turning her into a model and teaching her how to dress and pose and carry herself like a woman of Quality. Of course, in the end, Jo and Dick fall madly in love and live happily ever after—ending like every good story should.
“See,” I say with a big sigh as I point to the TV after the final scene of Audrey and Fred dancing to the song “？’S Wonderful.” “That’s what I need.”
Maddie and Emily are in the kitchen and out of earshot.
“An old man to fall in love with you?” asks Amelia with a chuckle.
I gasp. “Don’t you dare slander the great Fred Astaire and the hero of my favorite movie.”
Amelia grimaces and leans forward to grab another handful of popcorn from the coffee table. “Normally, I wouldn’t say a word against an Audrey movie. But even I have to admit the pairing is odd here. Audrey was in her twenties and Fred was definitely in his fifties.”
“Oh. Deflating,” I say staring at the screen again.
“So anyway, why do you want a major age-gap love affair, Anna-banana?”
I pull my legs up onto the couch and wrap my arms around them. “I don’t want an age-gap love affair. I just want a love affair in general. So I’m saying I wish I could have someone like Dick Avery or Maggie Prescott swoop in and teach me how to be the Quality woman everyone wants to date. Or at least I want my dates to not say I’m boring and then have their friends call and make up excuses to leave.”
“What?!” says Amelia a little too loudly.
“Shh!” I hiss, looking over my shoulder to where my sisters are busy cooking something in the kitchen. Actually, Madison is cooking, and Emily is hovering around her and badgering her with itinerary questions for their upcoming trip to Mexico for a vacation with a few of their other teacher friends. They’ve been saving for a year to afford it.
“Is that what happened tonight?” Amelia asks me in a whisper this time.