Somehow, we did it. Our hard work paid off. We won the Golden Ivy student film competition for the first time ever. The short film Rosie and I created from scraps, from nothing but a dream, won first place.

It doesn’t feel real. But it is.

An overwhelming, powerful wave of pride washes over me as I look out at the rest of film club. I did it. We did it.

Rosie is crying into my sweater, mascara streaking down her face, and I laugh helplessly, wiping her cheeks with my sleeve.

“We won! We really won!”

We really did.

After a quick subway ride to Forest Hills, Emmitt and I start walking back to my house. He keeps looking around, taking in my neighborhood, and I can’t stop smiling. Our hands swing between us, back and forth like a steady pendulum.

“We really won, huh?” I ask, still trying to process the last few hours. It feels so surreal, yet it grounds me in reality as much as Emmitt’s hand does.

He looks back at me, his eyes warm. “You won, love. I’m so proud of you.”

“We couldn’t have done it without you,” I say, nudging his shoulder with mine, though it jostles the plastic bag brimming over with chocolate between us. “We won.”

Emmitt shrugs, tugging the handle of the bag farther up his arm so it’s no longer in the way. “I don’t know about that. I think you could have. I’ve seen how passionate and driven you are. You could take over the world if you wanted to.”

“It’s lucky I don’t want to, then,” I say, grinning at him. “However, I won’t say no to taking over the film industry.”

There’s a twinkle in his eye. “I can see your name in lights already.”

“Is that right?” I feel almost giddy, talking about the future like this.

He nods. “Soon, I’ll be known as your arm candy. Mina Rahman and her beautiful boyfriend walk the red carpet.”

“Oh?” I say, my voice bright with amusement. “Well, you are a pretty boy.”

“Why else would you keep me around throughout your entire career?” he asks, his lips pulling into a devilish grin. “I have to provide incentive.”

My heart is bursting at the seams. “Throughout my entire career, huh? That’s a long time.”

“I’m playing the long game,” Emmitt says easily, his cheek dimpling. “Making sure I get a shout-out when you win your first Oscar.”

“I think you might win one first,” I point out, laughing. “What with you being an actor already.”

Emmitt tilts his head, considering that. “Then I’ll thank you in my Oscar speech, and prepare myself accordingly for when you win one shortly afterward. By which I mean, iron my best tux.”

I stop walking, squeezing his hand. “You really think we’ll still be together then?”