“Stop that. You know I hate it.”
The wiggling continues. “Not until you give me details, Mr. Vague. Ooo! That would be a great super villain name for you. I can see you, bald and stroking a white cat as you spin around in a high-back chair with a gun—”
“O-kay, Reese. Reel it in for a minute. There’s not really any other details to share. We sat at the top of the drop, after a rainstorm, and our hands kind of touched a little.”
Reese nods with anticipation, egging me on.
“And that’s it.”
“What?!” Her face gets far away, then really close again, “Again I say, what?! There’s got to be more to the story, Nicky. Hurry up and tell me, I’ve got to get back to the shoot soon.”
“What are you doing working so late? It’s like, eleven!”
She waves her hand to dismiss me. “Nighttime shoot. Not important. I’ve got two and a half minutes. Go!”
“Nothing else happened!” I say, loud enough that I wince. Mom’s click-clack typing doesn’t change tempo, but I get up and shut the door to my bedroom anyways. “You know I wouldn’t lie to you. Unless it’s for your own good, or aliens have eaten my brain.”
“Brain eating, huh? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
“And we’re done. Have fun with your shoot.”
“Aw, come on, Nick! I was only—”
I end the call, closing my laptop before falling backward onto the bed in a heap of exasperation. Reese is always reading between my non-existent lines. But maybe she’s on to something this time…
I close my eyes.
Tommy stands on the bank of the river, pulling off a pair of soaked jeans.
Uh oh.
“Honey, can you slow down for a second?”
I sling my apron over my shoulder, ducking under the kitchen table to retrieve my sneakers. “Can’t talk, Mom, I’m late.”
“I know, but—”
“Mel is going to crucify me if I don’t leave, like right this second.” Hopping on one foot, I pull on my ratty sneaker, then swap.
“I didn’t know you were working for Pontius Pilate. Your Bubbi is rolling in her grave.”
“Nice.” I wave from the door. “See ya!”
“I love y-”
Mom’s voice fades as I’m hurtle down the metal staircase. A dark sky looms above me, thick gray clouds hanging low enough that it triggers a touch of claustrophobia. I’m almost to the sidewalk when raindrops begin to fall.
I thrust Tina’s apron above my head, hoping that the deluge holds off long enough for me to get to work. I’m passing Ms. Sullivan’s shop when a dark sedan pulls up to the sidewalk and the tinted window rolls down.
Nick bends over the center console, “Wanna lift?”
Before I can answer, the clouds choose this very moment to unleash their pent-up frustration and sheets of rain fall around me.
I fumble with the door handle and hurl myself into the passenger seat before I’m completely soaked. I fold Tina’s sopping apron and stow it at my feet. The car smells new and the air is going full blast which sends a wave of goosebumps across my wet skin.
“Thanks,” I say, pulling the seat belt down from my right. “I don’t know if I’d be able to deal with customers and soggy underwear all day. One or the other.”
He laughs, tossing his head back against the headrest. It’s a bit overkill, but I’ll take it none-the-less.
“I almost didn’t make it out of bed this morning,” Nick says as we roll to a stop at the traffic light. “My legs are killing me.”
“Did you not stretch?”
“Was I supposed to?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh, and Nick’s cheeks turn pink.
“Chase would never stretch before our hikes, no matter how many times I’d remind him. His legs would cramp so bad, he’d just squat down wherever he was. His mom started sneaking bananas into his lunches to try to prevent them, but it never-”
I stumble over my words. am I talking about you?
“I got such a bad charley horse,” Nick says, either oblivious to or understanding of my pause. “It woke me up at two. I had to punch my calf for like, twenty minutes before it would calm down.”
I’m still caught up on the fact that I just shared something about you. I don’t even talk to Mom about you.
Nick pulls into a parking spot along the road. I glance at the clock. We’ve still got five minutes before we need to be inside. The rain hasn’t slacked off, pounding the rooftop with enough force that it drowns out the soft music.
“Leg cramps aside, I had fun with you yesterday.”
I nod, not dwelling on his insinuation I was the fun part of the trip. “Yeah. Ditto.”
He’s looking at me. Why is he looking at me? Better question, why is my heart racing? I haven’t had an ounce of caffeine. What’s with the anxiety spike?
“We should get inside,” I say, already unfastening my seat belt. “I don’t want to give Mel any reason to give up the whole being nice thing.”
“Right.” Nick agrees, opening his own door. The cacophony of rain intensifies, but I welcome the cool spray on my burning cheeks as I crawl out of the car.
“See you guys in the morning,” Mel calls as she locks the doors.
The rain persisted throughout the day, but the clouds have parted now, to reveal fresh stars, and a dark-faced moon that’s just a sliver of silvery white.
“Want me to give you a ride home?” Nick asks, jingling keys.
“That would be great. Thank you.”
Thank you’s flow easily for Nick now. It’s amazing what can change in such little time.
We walk in silence, Nick looking at his phone and me craning my neck to watch the sky.
“Hey, do you want to catch the late show?” he asks, just steps away from his car. “I’ve been dying to see Plantman 2, but I hate going by myself.”
“I’ve already seen it, actually,” I say, but then quickly add, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t go.”
He grins, his face still illuminated by the glow of his phone. “Sweet! I’ll get the frozen Cokes.”
“And gummy worms.”
“Enough to make your dentist weep.”
“And popcorn,” I say, opening the passenger side door. “You can’t watch a movie without popcorn. It’s kind of a house rule in my family.”
Nick climbs in and for a split second as he tugs on his seatbelt, he leans closer than he’s ever been, and I forget how to breathe. “Don’t want to mess with tradition, do we?”
Then he’s back in his own personal space and I exhale slowly through my nose, hoping he doesn’t notice my reaction.
The smell of popcorn and musty carpet herald our arrival to Cinemaplex 47, Hester’s one and only cinema. Nick purchases our tickets (we’re in theater 2, which isn’t difficult to remember because there’s only two) and we get in the single file line for the concession stand.
“This place looks like the eighties threw up all over it,” Nick says, his nose wrinkled.
“It actually shut down in ’89 after half the building burned down when one of the reels caught on fire.” I point down the hall to the newly carpeted section. “They didn’t have the money to rebuild it until the Outsi—I mean, the cabins were built, and visitors wanted something to do that didn’t involve hiking up a mountain.”
“Not gonna lie, superhero movies are much more my speed.”
“No kidding.”
The couple in front of us speak in hushed tones. The girl looks sweet, with curly hair and umber skin that warms at the edges. The guy is tall, with broad shoulders and a ball cap that displays a logo to a team that I don’t recognize. He lights up each time she leans in to whisper something in his ear, and her fingers trace the small of his back.
I wonder if the people standing behind Nick and me think we might be a couple. Surely not, given the six inches of polite space we’ve given each other. But maybe, if I just edge a bit closer…
�
��Something wrong?” Nick asks, raising an eyebrow at me. “You’re kinda crooked.”
I straighten myself. “Sorry, just a pre-movie stretch.”
“Smooth. Very smooth.”
“I don’t need your commentary right now,” I mutter while Nick grabs gummy worms from the rack to our left.
The couple in front of us hurry off with their tub and sodas, and it’s our turn to step up to the counter.
“Hey, Tommy.”
The girl behind the glass-top counter waves at me. Her dark hair is pulled back, ponytail sticking through the back of her cap, and her warm chestnut eyes strike a chord.
“Hey Kayla,” I say, stepping up to greet her. “How’s your summer going?”
“Well my feet are currently stuck to the floor and I go home every night smelling like popcorn, but then again I also get paid minimum wage, so there’s that.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “Sounds like a great time.”
“Could be worse. I could be stuck at home all summer, taking care of my Abuela, so I’m counting my blessings.” She glances over to Nick who’s hovering, hands in his pockets, then back to me with a sly smile. “What can I get for you guys?”
The flesh along my cheekbones ignites. Maybe I’m not the only one imagining the two of us as a couple. “We’ll just take a popcorn and two frozen Cokes.”
“And gummy worms.” Nick chimes in, tossing the bag onto the counter.
“Coming right up,” Kayla says, her shoes making an audible noise as they unstick themselves when she steps over to scoop the kernels. “Hey, Tommy. I’ve actually been meaning to ask you something.”
“What’s that?” I ask, ignoring the tuneless song Nick hums behind me.
“Just wanted to see if you’ve given any thought to coming back to the newspaper this year.”
My pulse quickens and suddenly the heat isn’t only in my cheeks, spreading to the back of my neck, prickly and uncomfortable.
“Cindy is sweet and all,” Kayla continues over her shoulder, “but her pictures are just total shit. We could really use your help.”
“Um, I’m not sure if I’ll have time,” I lie. “College prep courses and all.”
“Damn,” Kayla pouts, sliding the bag of popcorn over to me and moving on to the Cokes. “Well, will you at least think about it? I swear, if I have to run one more story about Celia’s freaking service dog because that’s all Cindy got pictures of, I’m just going to do everyone a favor and light the printers on fire. That will be twenty-two fifty.” The Cokes join their popcorn friend on the counter.
Nick steps forward to hand her a card before I can reach for my wallet.
“Thanks.” I mutter.
“Don’t mention it.” He smiles at me again and Kayla watching is making me super uncomfortable. She hands him back his card.
“Will you think about it?”
She’s like a dog with a bone here.
“Y-yeah, of course.”
“You’re the best. Good to see you. Enjoy the movie. Next!”
We shuffle toward theater two, popcorn and gallon-size drinks ready to be devoured as we watch spandex-clad heroes fight evil. But I can’t get in the right headspace, because all I can think about now is the paper and how much I miss using the developing room at school. I’m the reason they revived it. Now it’s wasting away.
“Where do you want to sit?” Nick asks, standing at the top of the sloping theater.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, then correct myself, “Actually, seventh row. Center.”
Nick raises an eyebrow then laughs. “Well, all right then. Seventh row it is.”
I take my seat, followed closely by Nick, setting his gargantuan beverage into the cup-holder.
“Is there a specific reason we’re in row seven?” he asks.
I hesitate. Then again, he probably already thinks I’m weird, so what’s the point in hiding it?
“Okay, hear me out here. I’ve got a method to my madness.”
He nods, leaning into the armrest between us, closer than I was expecting. Once again, I have to remind myself how to breathe.
“I’ve been going to this theater for forever—my whole life really— and through trial and error, I’ve determined that these seats right here, are the best in the house. Now, how have I come to this conclusion you may ask—”
“How have you come to this conclusion?”
I pause, staring at him.
His face crumples as he fights laughter. “Sorry. Continue.”
“Right… Anyway, so after sitting in nearly every seat in this place—except for J-twelve of course because it’s the chair that Old Man Mac died in back in ’05—I’ve narrowed it down to these two seats right here, based on a ranking of optimal screen placement, functioning armrests and the fact that I’ve yet to see anyone jerking off in these particular seats.”
Nick snorts another laugh, and I don’t have the heart to tell him that I’m far from joking.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” He pushes lightly on my shoulder. “I would totally have sat in the wrong seat.”
A smile stretches across my lips, though I’m not sure if he’s being sarcastic.
Nick tosses a single kernel into his mouth, then asks, “So you’re into photography too, huh? You should have showed Reese some pointers while she was here. She probably could have picked up a thing or two.”
“I used to be,” I say, then take a long pull of my frozen Coke. The cold hurts my teeth, but it’s worth it.
“Yeah, I kinda got that part. So, why’d that change?”
“Because I’m a human person, and my interests are allowed to evolve,” I say, tone even-keeled.
Nick cocks an eyebrow, but then the lights fade and there’s a dancing bucket of popcorn for him to watch on the screen.
I’m lying, of course. The truth is that I haven’t picked up Dad’s old Nikon since you died, Chase. It was never my intention to stop. To abandon the Hester Gazette. The day after your funeral, I went to grab the camera, to get a shot of this dove that landed outside my window. I reach for it, and all I could think about is how those pictures of you, burned into that roll of film, are the last ones there will ever be. You’ll never get another shot.
So, I put it away. Stashed it where I wouldn’t have to think about how you’re not on the other end of the lens. The Gazette was just collateral damage of my grief.
The movie starts, but I’m not even pretending to watch. Instead, I focus in on the faded pink wad of bubble gum stuck to the back of the chair in front of me as the screen flashes with explosions and plant-related violence.
The paper was my outlet. I haven’t honestly had the headspace to think about it since you left, haven’t given myself the chance to miss it. Now deferred longing rips at me, pulling on my stomach like a fishhook, tangled in the netting of my wants.
By the time the popcorn is eaten, and Nick’s frozen Coke is drained, I realize the credits are rolling and that pile of pink masticated rubber is burned into my brain.
Nick’s on his feet, most likely pumped with adrenaline from the cliffhanger.
“What the heck, I didn’t see that coming! How long till the next one?”
I grab for my drink, the syrupy liquid long melted. I stand up too, shaking my head to try to catch up with the lost time.
“Was it better a second time?” Nick asks, gathering his trash. He’s oblivious to the churning in my gut or the burning behind my eyes.
“Um, yeah. Totally.” I don’t wait around for him, pushing through the cluster of people at the end of the aisle to climb the stairs to the exit. Once I’m in the lobby, I duck around the corner to avoid Kayla.
“Tommy!”
Nick catches up with me as I sail through the antique turn-style door. The thick night air wraps me in a heavy blanket. More movie-goers are exiting the theater. I step out of the way, bracing myself against cool brick exterior.
“Hey, is something wrong?” he asks, breathless.
So many things, actually. And somehow, they’re all stemming back to you, Chase. I’m trying to keep it together, but you’re there at every turn, and I’m defenseless against you. How can I face this, knowing what I did to you?
“Tommy?”
I blink, a lone tear leaping over the edge of my eye. I turn my head, so Nick doesn’t see me swipe it away.
“Sorry,” I say, snapping into damage control mode. “Just needed some fresh air.”
“Oh, okay.” Nick nods along, but his brow furrows. Thankfully, he doesn’t press. “I can still give you a ride home, if you want.”
“Yeah,” I agree, then clear my throat. “That would be great. Thanks.”
“No worries.”
The sidewalk is quiet as we walk, the stars have vanished as purple, looming clouds have retaken the sky. I wish I could be like them. Always burning, always shedding light instead of dragging down those around me.
God, I need to get my head on straight.
“Everything okay, Tommy?”
I clench my fists tighter. I can’t talk to you, Chase. Not when the horrible beast of this guilt is clawing at my insides.
Nick’s car isn’t far. The parking lot is all but empty at this time at night.
The lights on Nick’s sedan flash as he unlocks the doors. I climb into the passenger seat, letting my head slack back against the headrest. Today has been forever long, and all I want to do is sleep. Sleep, and forget about you, if only for a night.
Nick turns the key, bringing the engine to life, but he doesn’t shift gears. I look over and he’s staring straight ahead, jaw clenched, hands at ten-and-two.
“Can I ask you a question?”
My heart skips a beat then starts double-time, thrumming in my chest. I take a controlled breath, but it doesn’t do much.
“Sure.”
He’s a statue. Pale and frozen in time. When marble lips finally move, his voice is just a whisper. “Never mind.”
Nick shifts gears and we roll backwards, away from the lingering question that hangs in the air. His knuckles are white, gripping the steering wheel while he drives.
He’s upset, which is weird. I’ve never experienced a Nick that isn’t smiles and laughter and warmth. Even when he was yelling at me, I knew underneath, he was warm. This Nick is rigid. Cold. A stranger.
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