Three days have come and gone since Bobby’s party, and today Logan, Mila, and I have planned to go see the new release of a movie I just finished reading the trilogy of. I made sure to get there an hour early to save our spots in line; we were four people back from the front. When they finally did arrived, Mila had brought snacks, and Logan his pillow and blanket. Leave it up to him, being a guy, to already have a preconceived notion that he wasn’t going to enjoy it. “You know you didn’t have to come.” I said playfully hitting his shoulder.
“Umm, let’s see.” He paused smiling, his finger pointing at the Mila and me. “You two, alone, at a movie theatre past midnight with no guy around to protect you . . .” He hesitated snorting as if my statement had been a joke. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”
“And why not?” Mila is quick to jump into the conversation. “We are strong, and independent; we can handle ourselves.” She barely had time to finish her sentence before Logan rolled his eyes unconvinced.
“I’m not saying you couldn’t handle yourselves but, that there are a lot of creeps out there who wouldn’t think twice about asking ya’ll if you would like any of the candy he has hidden in his trunk. . . Sorry, I love you two, too much to risk it. So thank you but, I’ll just suck it up.”
Suddenly the line starts to move, and we gather our things. I walk pass Logan, and touch his arm. “We appreciate that you care.” I say in an exaggerated tone up at him, and then try not to laugh as Mila and I exchange a look, and hurry into the theatre.
Inside the room is dimly lit, and people flood the area behind us all trying to snag their perfect spot. After a beat we pick something closer to the middle, and sit down. The seating in here is the same as in a stadium; the rows of chairs gradually move up along the back wall, and fall just shy enough below the projector, so as people can’t obscure the movie when they stand. As soon as I get adjusted a eerie sense of being watched washes over me; my stomach knotting into a twisted mess of nerves. I clench my stomach, and sit up. What was going on?
It was then I turned around toward the back row, my eyes seemingly drifting to a guy sitting perfectly centered underneath the projector box. His gaze hovered intently with my own, and a strange feeling from somewhere deep inside me called out to him; a voice in my head, which seemed oddly familiar, telling me that he had willed me to look. I flush red, and quickly turn back towards the screen. Mila and Logan completely oblivious as to what I had just experienced, busying themselves on their phones. The lights fade out seconds later, and I sit through the credits squirming uncomfortably as I feel his eyes on the back of my seat. Do I know him? I ask myself. I hadn’t recognized him. He was wearing all black from what I could tell being this far away, and his hair was a lighter shade of brown. Even this far away I could see the distinct draw of his jaw bone, and the sheer strength in the way he held himself. It scared me almost as much as it bit at my curiosity.
The movie ended in a sour note; the books are always better. But they had forgotten the one major part that had made the book into what it was: the kissing scene which portrayed exactly what the characters were feeling throughout the entire story. It’s was forbidden and seductive. The first real moment you see just how much they really meant to one another, and they cut it out! I exclaim to myself. “I thought there was sex in this?” Mila teases as the credits continue to roll. I sigh disappointed.
“No, not sex; a kiss.” I answer her, trying to understand the logic behind the director’s decision in leaving it out. Around us, people swarm to the exits in an attempt to leave. Although the three us of show no sign of hurry. In a normal pace, we collect our things, and begin making our way to the stairs. When we finally worm our way into the line, we’re separated temporarily. “Ouch.” I say to the pair of girls standing next to me; the one who had stepped on my foot, barely offering a glance before stepping down once more. I roll my eyes, and follow suit.
But just as I move to step down, I miss it like an idiot, and start to fall as another feeling of being watched comes over me. I hold out my hands, as if to brace myself from falling on the red head who stepped on my shoe but, a hand on my arm stops me before she even notices anything at all. I steady myself; the feeling of tiny electrical currents surging along the spot on my arm where the hand is, a familiar and calming effect settling within me. Taking in a deep breath, I muster up the courage, and turn to look at its owner. A pair of electric blue eyes consuming me the second I do. It’s the guy from the back row. “You should be more careful.” He says in a matter of fact kind of way, his hand still holding my arm as people funnel around us. I swallow hard trying to think of what to say, when I notice the corner of his mouth pull into a smile; his lips drawing me into every second of it.
“Thank you.” I finally get the words out. “I. . . uh, that would have been bad.” I add, and turn to point towards the bottom of the stairs where my friends stand dubiously watching. Logan all of the sudden sporting a look of dislike.
“No problem.” His words are soft, his breath hot as it tickles the back of my neck. I shiver, and turn back to face him. Only just now realizing how close we were, as his lips hover just barely within reach. The look in his eyes igniting a heat from somewhere I hadn’t expected, and I flush all too suddenly embarrassed with how he affected me. He moves to release my arm, and I’m painfully all too aware of it. The spot on my arm feels cold with the loss of his warmth, and I pray for some strange reason he can tell.
“Emery, let’s go!” I hear Logan’s voice calling out to me, and using everything I have; I turn away from him and continue down the stairs. Most of the crowded line had vanished by now, so it takes only a minute before I rejoin my friends. The second I do Logan pulls me into him, and the three of us walk out of the theatre. The entire time my heart feeling as if it were about to beat out of my chest; my breath ragged. What the hell was that?