Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“It was my idea to hang out tonight, Anthony. I’ll pay.”
He narrows his eyes. “What is this? Am I your date?”
I eye him right back. “Want to be?”
The question causes him to choke—again. His eyes turn into two thin, harsh lines. “I did take a couple shots before leavin’ my place,” he volunteers suddenly, answering my earlier question. “How else do you think I’m gonna get through tonight? Shoot, you really are thick.”
Then he grabs his Coke and popcorn off the counter and is off to the theater. I finish ringing up, give the young woman a polite, slightly-apologetic nod, then take my own items and follow.
There’s surprisingly about ten or so others scattered around the theater for a Thursday night when we take a pair of seats right in the center. I think he’s about to put an empty seat between us, from the hesitation in his body, then finally sits right next to me in an action that seems almost like a surrender. The previews are already on, so we have no chance to talk about anything as we eat our popcorn—and he slurps noisily on his Coke.
One preview for an upcoming rom-com causes Anthony to let out a bark of laughter at something I must have missed, drawing my attention to the side of his face. His eyes glow in the light from the silver screen, and I’m surprised yet again by how striking he looks when he laughs. Some young, non-jaded version of himself comes out, buried inside, eager to discover the wonders of the big world again. It’s like he forgets where he is for a second, who he’s with, what he’s doing, and every last one of his problems goes away, allowing him that moment to laugh.
I wish I could do something to peel away all his problems and let that boy inside him laugh and smile at everything.
Maybe it’s the same guy who threw caution to the wind that night in the church—the guy who kissed me.
And fell asleep cuddling my arm.
Jaded Anthony makes a fierce return after the movie starts. As the closing employee at a carnival runs away from some pursuing creature we never quite get to see, I enjoy the surround sound of Anthony huffing next to me. “Why didn’t he just—? Ugh, so stupid. Why’re you—? Why’d you just—? What a moron. He deserves to die.” He chomps on a mouthful of popcorn, shutting himself up. Actually: “You deserve to die, moron!” he then shouts through his mouthful. A couple of guys a few rows ahead of us turn, annoyed. I’m about to apologize when Anthony shouts at them: “What? He does! He’s an idiot!”
I wish I could say we watch the rest of the movie in peace.
But not two scenes later when a late-night carousel ride turns into another deadly game for the unseen flesh-eating monster, now being called the “Carnivorax”, it looks like Anthony’s holding back from throwing popcorn at the screen. “I don’t get why these idiots barely got two brain cells to rub together. Every time. Every single time. Look, right there … the monster’s gonna come out of the—Yep, told you. Morons.”
Even when the Carnivorax leaps out of nowhere, showing its nightmarish face for the very first time, the obvious “jump-scare” moment that even causes the guys a few rows ahead of us to jerk back, Anthony only rolls his eyes and shouts, “Lame, didn’t even flinch,” at the screen.
I lean into him. “Relax and let everyone else enjoy the movie,” I whisper to him.
“Why should I?”
“Because it’s what you’re supposed to do in a movie theater.”
“You always do what you’re told?” He side-eyes me. “Such a goody-goody, huh? Never broke a rule in your life?”
I feel my spine stiffening up. “Is that what you think of me?”
“That you got a stick up your ass? Don’t matter what I think, it’s just the plain truth.” He turns back to the movie.
“That’s not true. I’m not …” As if in answer, I slouch in my seat a little. “I’m not that uptight.”
“Feels like I’m hanging out with a school principal.”
“A school princ—?” I choke back a laugh and shake my head.
He slouches in his seat, sulking. “Movie’s so dumb.”
Am I really that uptight? I keep readjusting my posture, as if to prove him wrong. Then as the movie continues and we watch a college kid ignore every obvious sign that something is pursuing him in a stockroom behind the cotton candy machines, I realize I might hate this movie as much as Anthony does. “This is stupid.”
“Told you.”
I eye him. “Should we just go, then?”
After a minute, he says, “Then I won’t know how it ends. It’ll bug me. I wanna see someone actually do the smart thing.”
At this rate, no one in this film has a prayer. But I keep my mouth shut and settle on a totally-not-uptight loosey-goosey pose of crossing my legs at the ankle while leaning against our shared armrest with my chin propped up by my hand.