Well, now I feel like an asshole.
The lights dim and brighten twice. The movie is starting soon.
Mrs. Hammond appears with her bucket of popcorn. Graham offers his arm to her, and then turns, lifts his elbow and offers me his other arm.
“You go on ahead.” I wave. “I have to check on everything.” Mrs. Hammond will take him to the right seat. It’s easy to find, in front.
Jack is in the projector room, setting up the reel, Daphne is making sure the concession stand has served everyone before we get started, and we have a couple of volunteer ushers helping people to their seats.
They’ve all done this before, but not with this many people in attendance, and it’s my first night being in charge. I have to make sure everything goes smoothly.
The lights dim as I reach the front row.
I slide into my seat beside Graham as the screen flickers to life, the opening credits of Rear Window washing the room in soft, shifting light.
For a moment, I let myself breathe.
I just have to sit here for two hours, then it’s over. I glance over my shoulder to check and lock eyes with Spencer.
He smiles, and a responding grin tugs at my lips. The person next to him reaches into the popcorn bucket on his lap.
Audrey.
She tips her head toward him, whispering something.
Our eye contact breaks as he leans closer to listen, close enough that their shoulders brush, a faint smile still tugging at his mouth.
I flip around back in my seat so fast Graham shoots me a startled look.
Forcing my attention to the film, I latch on to the familiar opening sequence, the slow pan across the apartment windows.
Focus.
My ears strain when a low laugh sounds behind me, Audrey’s flirty laugh, followed by Spencer’s low rumble.
Why do I care?
I don’t care.
I shouldn’t care.
Graham shifts beside me, stretching his legs out in front of him like he owns the place, completely at ease. Manspreading. Typical.
The movie rolls on, Jimmy Stewart watching the world through his window, piecing together fragments of other people’s lives.
As soon as the credits roll, a weight lifts off me.
It’s over.
Thank god.
People stretch, chatter picking up as the lights turn on, energy buzzing through the space.
Graham is talking to Mrs. Hammond. I scan the rows behind us.
Spencer is already on his feet, Audrey beside him, her hand brushing his arm as she says something, laughing softly.
He smiles back.
