Chapter 2
TWO
BEAU
When I left my house this morning, I had high hopes for this date.
My friend Jaclyn insisted that her friend Vee would be perfect for me.
The first hundred times she mentioned it, I blew her off.
It’s not that I don’t trust her taste in men, but she knows this guy from a fantasy book club.
That doesn’t exactly scream shared interests.
I’ve tried reading the books she likes, but I can never get into the stories.
There are always too many strange names and locations for me to keep track of.
But she’s talked him up so much over the last year, and my recent dating life has been so sad, that I finally gave in.
The way she shrieked and jumped around, I almost thought she was the one going on a date.
Instead, she bought us tickets to see It Happened One Night, a classic black-and-white movie that the local cinema shows every year for Valentine’s Day.
Or around Valentine’s Day. I insisted that the date not be on February fourteenth.
That’s too much pressure for a first date.
Instead, we’re going out on the fifteenth—fewer expectations.
I considered cancelling at least a dozen times.
My ankle is sore from my first fall, and I’m pretty sure I pulled several muscles the second time I went down.
Not to mention how much my ass hurts, and not in a good way.
What I really want right now is a hot bath and several glasses of wine to make me forget today even existed.
But, at Jacklyn’s instance, I’ve had no contact with this guy.
I don’t even have his phone number or a picture.
Instead, she’s given each of us a ticket and told us to meet there.
It’s a bit weird, but it’s typical Jacklyn.
She’s…eclectic. I met her in one of my first-year college courses, and she immediately insisted that we were best friends.
Eventually, I gave up arguing with her. Now, it’s true.
It’s like she somehow manifested the whole thing into existence.
I’d have to reach out to her to call the date off, and I can already hear the lecture about how I need to commit to things and uphold my responsibilities.
I’m not sure how much personal responsibility I have for a blind date when I don’t even know the guy’s full name, but it’s not an argument I’m interested in having.
Of course, since I look like I was dragged through the streets by a garbage truck, I’m hoping he doesn’t walk away the minute he spots me.
Jaclyn is going to kill me when she hears I showed up like this after she gave me strict instructions to be on my best behavior and to show up looking like a snack.
Her words, because I’m not even sure I fully understand what that means.
Between the rain and some idiot tripping me in the coffee shop, my nice cashmere sweater is ruined.
I even doubt my miracle-worker dry cleaner will be able to save it.
Luckily, I keep a spare button-up shirt in the office that I could change into.
The pants, on the other hand, are hopeless, and I don’t keep a spare pair at work.
Though after today, I’ll probably start.
They’ve dried, but the coffee stains are still visible on the light gray fabric.
The only saving grace is that it’s mainly around the knees and not on my crotch.
At least I’ll have a good story to kick off the evening.
It’s movie first, then dinner at the bistro next door.
If I’m lucky, we’ll head back to my place afterwards. Or his, I’m not picky.
The short bus ride from my office to the cinema gives me a few minutes to listen to music and relax, attempting to forget the day.
It may be time to consider a different career.
I’m good at my job, but I never intended to be an assistant long-term.
It was something to do when I graduated from college with a bachelor’s in history and no real plan.
Five years later, I’m still there with no plan to get out.
At the theater, I spend a few minutes debating in front of the concession stand.
If I wait until he gets here, Vee and I could pick out a few things to share.
If he cuts it close, it might be hard to get back before the start of the film.
I play the odds and order a large popcorn and a Coke with two straws.
Cliché? Maybe, but we are seeing a classic romance movie near Valentine’s Day.
I may lean in and hope my generosity makes up for my appearance.
I grab my snacks and head into the theater.
Jacklyn snagged us good seats, toward the front and center.
I watch the signs at the end of the rows until I find Row E, then make my way across.
There are a few people already in the seats, so I hold my breath as I pass each one, wondering if one of them is my mystery man.
When I get to seat ten, there’s already someone sitting there. No, not someone. Him. The guy who tripped me in the coffee shop today. “You’re in my seat.”
He looks up at me, his amber eyes sparkling for a second before he realizes who I am. “I don’t think so.” He pulls out his ticket and looks at it for a minute. “I’m in seat eleven.”
“This one is ten. Move,” I demand.
“Sorry, my mistake,” he says with a smirk, pushing himself up and moving one seat down. “Better?”
I don’t bother to respond. Judging by the way he looks, he went home and changed before coming here.
Lucky asshole. Not that I’m looking at his tight black jeans or his colorful blazer.
I sink into the chair. This place doesn’t have any of those fancy recliners that the newer theaters have these days.
They rely heavily on their historic charm and run of classic films like this one to fill seats.
My other side remains empty, waiting for my date.
Seeing it makes my stomach churn. What if Vee doesn’t show?
I’m early, but not that early. It’s minutes until the film starts, and while there will be previews, it would be nice to say hi before we’re plunged into darkness for the duration.
And, of course, this guy, Vincent or whatever his name was, is sitting on my other side.
It’s just my luck that of all the people in Cardinal Falls, he’d be here tonight.
I mean, seriously, universe? What could I possibly do to deserve this?
I’m not a saint or anything, but I’ve never murdered anyone.
The screen rolls through a series of trivia, and by the third time, I’m starting to wonder if this Vee is standing me up or stuck in traffic. This is why it’s essential to exchange phone numbers. Instead, I’m forced to send Jaclyn a message.
Me: So…have you heard from your friend? He’s not here yet, and the movie starts in 5.
Three dots appear, and it takes far too long for her message to come through.
Jaclyn: Let me check.
Another round of trivia goes by, and, even though I could recite all of them by heart, I keep my gaze dead ahead.
I don’t want to invite any conversation.
The theater’s not full, unsurprisingly, given it’s the day after Valentine’s and a romantic movie that very few people even know about.
Maybe Vincent’ll be able to move down a seat or two when it starts.
Having him so close to me is making my blood boil.
My date doesn’t deserve that level of negative energy.
My phone finally buzzes.
Jaclyn: He says he’s there. Are you sure you’re in the right seat? He’s wearing a purple tweed blazer and bubblegum lip gloss.
No. Nope. I read her message three times before turning my head to the right.
Purple blazer? Check.
Bubblegum lip gloss? Honestly, I don’t know what that looks like.
Fuck. I’ve got a couple of choices here. I could pretend like I don’t know. Maybe even sneak out. Except I love this movie, and this is the last showing until next year.
Jacklyn already knows I’m here, and while I might not be scared of him, I’m terrified of her. She might only be five feet tall, but she’s scary as fuck.
“You.” It’s all I can manage.
“Me what?” he asks. Jacklyn must not have ratted me out yet. All the more reason to leave, but his phone vibrates at that moment, and he picks it up to read the message. I can see the exact moment he comes to the same conclusion I have. “You’re Beau?”
“And that makes you Vee.”
“Only Jacklyn calls me that. It’s Vincent.” He sticks his hand out to me. “Nice to meet you. Um…again.”
Nope. Not a chance. The theater chooses that moment to lower the lights, the first time today that luck has been on my side.
I turn back to the screen and shake my head.
For the next two hours, I plan to ignore the whole situation.
If my luck is really turning, maybe he’ll leave before the credits roll.
VINCENT
As far as first dates go, this one’s not winning any awards. On a scale of one to ten, I’d give it a three. Three and a half if I really push it. It’s a wild coincidence that the guy Jacklyn set me up with is the same one I met at the coffee shop today. Though met might not be the right word.
He seems equally as rude here as he did there. I thought that attitude was a combination of embarrassment and pain. And being drenched in coffee. Apparently, it’s his default setting.
If so, it’s weird that Jaclyn would pair us up. She knows I tend to be an optimistic and outgoing guy. I’m not looking for someone exactly like me, but this is a step too far in the other direction.
Either way, I’m not leaving. This is one of my all-time favorite movies. I see it every year, though usually by myself. Of course, I’m not sure this is still a date. We might simply be two people who happen to be sitting next to each other.
I can’t help but look over a few times, watching as he pops kernels of popcorn into his mouth.
Is it possible to eat angrily? If so, that’s what he’s doing.
It’s cute. It’d be cuter if he were willing to share.
I didn’t stop off at the concession stand, waiting to see if my blind date might want to share something.
Instead, now I’m stuck with nothing unless I want to miss part of the film, which is a hard no.
Every minute of it is simply too good. And yes, I own it and could go home and replay it from the comfort of my bed with all the snacks I can manage, but it’s not the same as seeing it on the big screen, the way it was intended.
By the time the lights come up, my eyes are teary and my throat is dry. I wipe away a stray tear, as does Beau.
“So,” I start. “Did you still want to grab dinner?”
“Yeah, I think I’ll pass on that.” More and more, I’m wondering why Jacklyn thought it was a good idea to put us together. This seems like a doomed match from the beginning, even if we like the same film.
I would kill to leave it at that, but we both need to leave, so we walk silently next to one another, slowly filing out of the theater behind the other patrons.
Everyone else is making conversation, gushing about their favorite part of the film.
It’s a stark contrast to the two of us ignoring each other.
Loudly. The negative energy between us is palpable.
He throws away at least half the bag of popcorn and likely most of the drink. “Get home safe,” I call as he walks toward the door.
He looks back at me for a second, then shakes his head and walks away.
So, no goodnight kiss?