After our diner run-in, we’ve been texting here and there. Random messages throughout the day. Sometimes things like what my theories are as my interest for theStar Warssaga grows. But mainly more trivial topics, like what toppings I like on my pizza or if I prefer Pepsi or Coke. When he asked if I’ve been watering my LEGO roses and giving them enough sunlight, I responded with a sassy “duh” and a picture of a perfectly thriving bouquet of plastic red roses.
My brow furrows as I continue to watch the movie, the scenes unfolding while the questions grow and brew in my head. I start to wonder if I made a mistake by watching it without Andrew’s commentary. I don’t have someone in my ear, explaining all the finer details that are invisible to the untrained eye. With the thought of Andrew fresh in my mind, I pry out my phone from between the couch cushions and prepare to tap out a new message.
Is this thing between Leia and Han an enemies-to-lovers type of situation?
Instead of a response via text, my phone starts buzzing in my hand.
“Hello?”
“Why are you asking me about Leia and Han Solo?”
I smirk a laugh, resisting the urge to taunt and tease him. “I may be watchingThe Empire Strikes Back.”
“What?” he exclaims. He sounds genuinely shocked, and even a little offended.
“What?” I ask flatly, feigning innocence. “I wanted to know what happens next.”
“And you couldn’t tell me?”
“I have to ask your permission?”
“I mean…yes?”
My giggle rings through my room, drowning out the galactic sounds I’ve turned down coming from my TV. “I’ll make sure to ask you before watching the next one.”
“I think the sound of your laugh just saved my day,” he comments with an exhausted exhale that sounds pained and tense.
I ignore the pang hitting me straight in the chest. Like a weighted medicine ball thrown at me full force. I should feelpleased that my laugh alone lifted his spirits, but I can’t let his morose mood go unnoticed. “What are you doing?”
“I’m at work.”
I pull the phone away from my ear to check the time on the screen. It’s close to nine. “This late? I thought you’d be home by now.”
“I thought so too, but my boss had bigger plans for me.”
“I’m sorry this is how you’re spending your Friday night.”
“Eh,” he says, brushing off my sympathy. “I’ll live.” After a short pause, one that dismisses the stress I can almost see resting on his shoulders, he adds, “What part are you at?”
“Leia and Han just got handed over to Vader by Lando.”
“Ooohh,” he comments, maintaining a mysterious air to his response, but it only eggs on my curiosity.
“Why? What happens?”
“Just watch.”
“No, tell me! Is it bad?”
“Let’s just say it’s one of the greatest cinematic plot twists of all time.”
“Really? Bigger thanThe Sixth Sense?”
“What happens inThe Sixth Sense?”
“You’ve never seen it?”
“No.”
