I suggest a couple of different outfits. She snaps pics of herself in them. We finally agree on denim shorts paired with a hoodie (so Ten doesn’t completely flip). Plus they keep the movie theater at icebox temperatures. After Nev sends me the showtime, I call Rae to ask if she wants to come with me, but she’s meeting Harrison’s parents. I text Laney next. She’s out of town, but tells me she’ll be back in the early afternoon on Sunday if I want to wait for her to go then. I explain I have yoga with Mom on Sundays. Laney asks me where and then says she’ll try to come with her mother. I feel like I’ve just organized a Mommy-and-me playdate. But why not? I don’t think Mom knows Laney’s mother. Maybe she can become a new source of available men for the woman who keeps insisting there are no eligible good men left.
I take a cab to the mall because I forgot to ask Mom for a lift. If I wait for her to return from the gym, I’ll miss the opening credits—I plan on watching both Nev and the movie. When I get there, I race up the mall escalator to the Cineplex. I don’t see Nev in the ticket line. I text her that I’m here.
“Here,” a gruff voice says, shoving a ticket between my phone screen and my eyes.
I look up so fast I give myself whiplash—okay, that’s an exaggeration, but my neck definitely creaked. “Ten! What are you doing here?”
A nerve tics in his taut jaw. “Nev needed a ride to herdate. Since I was here, I decided to stay.”
After the shock of seeing him dwindles, I take the ticket from him and then dig out my wallet.
“Angie, please, it’s a movie ticket.”
I sense he’s too on edge for me to argue, so I offer to get popcorn and drinks, which he accepts. “Want butter?”
He shakes his head.
I get him a large bucket and get myself one with extra butter. He eyes the shiny kernels.
“I can sense the chef in you cringing at all the artificial flavor,” I tease.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You don’t have to. It’s written all over your face. You have a very expressive face. Probably to make up for not being all that great at expressing yourself with words.”
“What?”
“Don’t look so shocked. You’re not exactly the glibbest person. Unless you’re mad. Then you have plenty to say.”
“Any more nice stuff to point out about my personality?” he mutters.
I elbow him in the ribs. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
He side-eyes me. “It takes way more to hurt my feelings.” He opens the door to the theater for me.
As I climb the stairs, I look for Nev. Ten gestures to a bobbing baseball cap in one of the middle rows. I try to get a better look at Nev’s date, but all I see is that he’s blond and has a swooping lock of hair across his forehead.
I choose the highest row to give them as much privacy as possible.
“Could you have chosen a farther spot?” Ten asks, settling in the seat beside me.
I smile. “I could’ve chosen a seat in the front row, but I decided to spare your neck a kink.”
He tries to get comfortable, which is apparently a feat for someone with long legs.
Sensing he’s wound up as tight as my baby grand’s strings, I whisper, “Relax.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“Ten, you’re only hurting yourself.”
He grumbles something, but since he tossed a handful of popcorn into his mouth, I don’t get what he’s saying.
A third of the way through the movie, he leans forward. “Are they holding hands?”
When he starts to stand, I yank on the hem of his zip-up hoodie, and he drops back down.
“Stop,” I command him in a low voice.
