Chapter 36
E llie and Drake returned to the alley, walked back through the curtain of fog, and stepped under the glowing marquee for the last time.
The Story of You , it read, as it had every other visit.
Inside the lobby, though, Drake broke their usual routine.
“Let’s see what those hot dogs are dancing about,” he suggested as he traded his last remaining cash for a large bag of the popcorn.
The ticket boy dumped some of the dried-out kernels into a red paper bag without acknowledging them and handed it over.
“It’s inedible,” Ellie decided after the first bite.
Drake scooped a handful into his mouth. “It’s fine,” he sputtered with a cough. “If you can get past the tar aftertaste.”
They took their time as they moved up the stairs to the balcony, each admiring the cinema with new eyes.
Their lives had been gutted since they found this place.
Soon, the past would be back on the timeline where it belonged.
Life would be normal again. Coming here had been a constant source of juxtaposition: of laughter and hurt, nostalgia and guilt.
And they knew the last memory would be no different.
Excitement and dread walked hand in hand beside them as they prepared to enter the movie.
Ellie and Drake both sensed what would play.
Seeing their own meet cute felt inevitable; it was where the story had always been heading.
How thrilling would it be to finally relive the sparks of that first conversation at Finn’s?
But with that thrill came something they had left unsaid about that night.
There was a hidden layer to their beginning that they hadn’t discussed yet, and it made them stall halfway up the stairs to buy more time before facing it.
Drake dove his hand back in the popcorn.
He was eager to stress eat and disappointed by the results.
And, as he had decided back at the house, they both needed to know what the cinema pieced together for this one, final movie.
They had been more honest with each other in these last weeks than their entire time together.
He didn’t want to keep any more secrets.
“Whatever happens in there, we’ll be fine,” Drake said, searching Ellie’s face for reassurance. “Right?”
Ellie hesitated. She had never told Drake what happened right after they met at Finn’s.
She’d convinced herself that the choices she made before—and immediately after—their meeting would tarnish an otherwise perfect encounter.
“You know, we could still turn around,” she said.
As soon as the words were out, she knew they couldn’t do that.
Ellie wasn’t pushing the past away anymore. “But let’s not. We’ve got this.”
“I think you should know …” Drake started pulling her back up the stairs again. “I have an idea of what this last movie is going to be—”
“Same,” Ellie admitted.
“And it might not paint me in the best light. We’re not talking a villainous light here, but … Not the best light.”
“Same,” Ellie repeated. “For me, fluorescent light, at best.” Their baby steps had led them to the balcony-level door of the auditorium.
The only thing left to do was to go through it.
Ellie straightened her posture and pushed the sculpted handle open, relieved to find the comforting presence of Drake right behind her.
“New rule,” he whispered as they sank into their seats. “Whatever happens in the cinema, doesn’t stay in the cinema.”
“Deal,” Ellie agreed softly.
Then the lights lowered, the hot dogs danced, and their fingers laced together as the title surfaced on the screen.
TICKET TEN: MEET-CUTE
Ellie remembered this part well; there was a man in her bed.
She’d met him a few nights earlier at her book reading, where he’d bought three copies of The Compendium of Forgotten Things for her to sign.
He wanted a congratulations message to his aunt in the first copy, a dedication to a girl who was “strictly a friend, but don’t write that,” in the second, and “your phone number,” in the third.
Ellie gave in to all three requests. As a result, he was in her room, leaning against the headboard with a cup of coffee and an air of rebellion.
“Big plans today?” He stretched his arms overhead with an exaggerated yawn.
“I’ve got to get writing.” Ellie hoped he would pick up the hint.
He’d made the coffee himself, so it wasn’t likely.
Her escape routine was easier at another person’s house.
Instead, she hopped out of bed, tossed on her jeans, and slid the balcony door open.
A few resident birds battled it out for fallen cereal on the patio.
“Swing by the bar where I work tonight?” Hints, begone. He had followed her outside.
“I don’t know if I can,” Ellie told him.
She pulled away from his kiss on her neck.
The act was too intimate for daylight and balcony neighbors.
He didn’t seem to notice that she was willing him to leave.
Instead, the man sat at the tiled table she’d picked up during an event called Vintage Crawl a few weeks earlier.
People like Ellie gathered and roamed through a series of bars and thrift stores.
By the end of the night, she’d inherited this table, a 1960s rain lamp, and a raging hangover.
“Come on,” he baited. “I want you to see the bar before it closes. It’s a neighborhood place. Low lights. Jazz records. Might be your thing.”
His words were espresso to her ears. Before it closes .
“It’s closing, huh?”
“Yeah. It’s a classic story of not being able to make ends meet. Customers want trendy places now. Fake speakeasies. Pop-ups.”
Ellie pursed her lips. Not on her watch. “Maybe I could make an appearance.” She had already decided to go.“What’s it called?”
“Finn’s,” he offered, with a sense of pride. “It’s Finn’s Bar.”
“You’ve got a date,” Ellie told Sam.
Drake recognized Sam as the bartender from Finn’s right away.
He also knew that Ellie was exactly Sam’s type, thanks to all those nights he had spent watching him twirl bottles and finesse eight counts.
Before Drake could process this twist, he was faced with his own half of the story.
Tonight, instead of the fuzzy blurring that usually separated their memories, the moments joined together smoothly.
There was Drake at Finn’s, sitting across the table from Melinda.
He searched for Ellie’s expression in the seat next to him and held her hand tightly in case she decided to take off. This screening would be different, he reminded himself. They burned the rules. They could talk it through when they left.
“It’s good to see you, Drake,” Melinda said. Her right hand held out a cold beer for him, the left, an old-fashioned for her.
“Oh, we’re drinking whiskey now?” Drake asked.
“I am,” she said. Melinda scooted her chair toward him and took a little sip. “The girl at the bar recommended it. Just your type.” She pushed the beer over to him.
“The drink?”
“No, her .”
Drake followed Melinda’s eyeline and caught Ellie in the middle of a laugh.
Sam must have told a joke. “Her?” He brushed the comment off because it made him uncomfortable to talk about another woman, or even the possibility of such a thing, with the history they shared.
“She’s got nothing on you,” Drake told Melinda.
He wanted to put her at ease. “Thanks for driving all the way out here. I could’ve come your way. ”
“You’re worth it,” she told him. “Besides, it’s fun to see one of your spots.”
“More like, spot ,” Drake said. “I’m uh, glad you asked me to hang out. I was kind of surprised,” he admitted. “In a good way.”
She nodded. “Well, it’s about time we act like friends—”
“I still love you,” Drake blurted. Terror set in. Why the hell had he done that? He hadn’t meant to say it then. Not yet, anyway. The confession sat at the center of the table like a conversational fruit cake. Was it even true anymore?
“Whoa,” Melinda said, setting her drink down. “It’s been a long time. A really long time. I thought you wanted to be friends.”
“You said we should hang out. Like a date .” Drake danced his finger over the tea light, getting it dangerously close to the leaping flame.
“I used the phrase hang out because it isn’t a date .”
Drake blushed in his seat. He was ruined.
He’d thought the proposal was the most humiliating scene from his life.
But no, he decided right then, this confession was so far out of left field that it stole the trophy.
He worried that Sam had overheard the whole thing and was laughing at him.
Sam was an excruciating caliber of cool.
Sam would never faceplant like this. “I thought … I shouldn’t have said ‘I love you,’” Drake admitted.
“Shit. I just said it again. I wasn’t repeating the ‘I love you’ then, I was summarizing what happened, and … Sorry. I’m sorry.”
Melinda pushed her loose hair out of her face; it was messy, like she’d come from running errands. All signs indicated that this wasn’t a date. He should’ve paid more attention. “Look, Drake. You’re incredible. And you’re going to find someone great,” she said.
Their eyes connected.
Drake shook his head. “If I do, I’ll be pretending she’s you.”
The statement forced Melinda out of her chair.
“I should probably go.” She wove past the marble tables toward the bar’s door, and Drake trailed a few steps behind.
Then, she spun to face him right before stepping outside.
She’d forgotten something, it seemed. Her hand reached for something inside her bag, and then she was handing him the familiar sapphire ring.
“I wanted you to keep it,” he said, making no move to grab the box.
“We both know this is meant for someone else,” she told him. “And when you find her, she’s going to love it. Okay?” Melinda didn’t wait for his reaction. A second later she was gone. Drake followed her right out the door.