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“Maybe take Dimples with you,” she says. “I might give the Rogue a handy with the popcorn butter.”
“Oh my god,” I say, pulling my sleeping bag up over my head to hide my secondhand embarrassment. “I’m going to go to sleep now and pretend I never heard you say that.”
seven
Now Playing:
“Tonight, Tonight”—The Smashing Pumpkins
“I was hoping I’d see you again,” Oliver says in his soft voice that seems too quiet for someone so tall.
“Me?” I blurt out. “Really?”
I wince at how incredulous I sound, like he can’t possibly be serious. Now that we’re together again, waiting in line at the movies, I’m reminded how painfully awkward we are together, and I can’t remember why I wanted to come. We’ve basically been set up on a double date by default. Meghan’s already holding hands with his brother, who came right up and hugged us both, greeting us cheerfully and kissing Meghan square on the mouth while Oliver hung back.
“Yeah,” Oliver says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans and shrugging his shoulders. “When we walked on the beach.”
I want to say, “Oh my god, we did the same!” and laugh about it. That’s what Meghan would do. But the words don’t come, and then it’s too late to say it. It’s too late to say anything. So we stand there in silence, looking at each other and then deliberately not looking at each other.
But what does he expect? I just met him, and I’m not the type of person who just puts things out there. I’m not Meghan.
I glance at my cousin, who’s examining the movie choices over the heads of the group in front of us. I pretend I’m interested too, mostly so I can avoid eye contact with Oliver.
“We were thinking aboutSpeed Demons from Hell,” Meghan says, turning to us. “Y’all good with that?”
“Are you serious?” I blurt out before I can stop the words. “That looks terrible!”
The huge blockbuster is like, number twenty-something of a franchise that was only good for the first movie, but it kept making money so the studio kept making movies. The plots are nonsensical at this point, but everyone just goes for the car chases and explosions and big battle scenes where the world is destroyed at the end but somehow the heroes save the day anyway. The fact that only one member of the original cast remains tells me just how lame the latest installment will be.
“Not everything that’s popular is terrible, Sky,” Meghan says patiently. “Besides, there’s no scary movies playing.”
“What about that one?” I ask, pointing to a poster from the latest by a popular director.
“That only has two showtimes,” Meghan points out. “That means no one’s buying tickets, which means it’s not a good movie.”
The Rogue throws his arm around his brother. “Maybe you two can go see that, and we’ll see the good movie,” he says. “Ollie here has strange tastes too.”
“No,” I say quickly. “We can all seeSpeed Demons.” Just saying the words pains me, and I catch the grimace on Oliver’s face and think he’s in agreement with me until I realize he probably thinks I didn’t want to be alone with him. Which is true, but only to spare the world of the time-space continuum rupturing. I feel bad for being mean without meaning to, but I’m too anxious to correct myself since the guys have already turned away to buy tickets.
Meghan gives me a little grin behind her date’s back, which is the equivalent of positively giddy in Meghan’s world. I decide to just go along and try to get through the night. It’s notmy date. I’m here for moral support, basically a third wheel. If they thought the pity-date setup with Oliver would make me feel less awkward, they shouldn’t have bothered, though.
“Here,” Oliver says, turning and handing me a ticket.
“Oh—thanks,” I say, feeling even worse for being so rude earlier. But it’s too late to bring it up now and try to fix it without being even more painful, so I leave it alone and add a lame, “You didn’t have to do that.”
He shrugs. “You shouldn’t have to pay to sit through this.”
“No one should have to pay for their own torture,” I say.
“Okay, movie snob,” Meghan says, rolling her eyes as we step into the concession line.
“Hey,” I protest. “Having taste doesn’t make me a snob. I watch scary movies, and most of those aren’t exactly Oscar winners. I just recognize that their inherent cheese factor is sorta the whole point and enjoy them for what they are.”
When no one answers, I realize I do sound like an insufferable snob.
Actually, I sound exactly like my father.
A wave of anger rolls over me. Maybe a brainless movie where the bullets never stop flying long enough to give me time to think, leaving a set strewn with corpses, is exactly what I need.
