Chapter 38
Junior Year, Second Semester
“Remind me what this movie is about?” West whispers as the lights go down in the theater.
“How should I know?” I whisper back. He’s holding the bucket of popcorn between his knees, and I wonder if it would be weird for me to take some.
No, thinking it’s weird is what’s weird.
I grab a small handful of popcorn and resolutely ignore the squirm in my gut.
West has a girlfriend. No squirming allowed.
“It’s a musical?” he asks, tilting his head at the screen.
“It’s Bollywood. And no one forced you to be here,” I say defensively. My English professor is offering extra credit to any student who goes to a screening of an old Bollywood film at the Cinemark this semester. West’s not in my class, but he offered to tag along.
He nudges my knee with his. “That wasn’t a complaint, Jupiter. I’m ecstatic to be spending my Sunday evening watching a three-and-a-half-hour Bollywood film with you. Over the moon. There’s nothing I’d rather be doing and no one I’d rather be with. When I die—”
“Oh my god.” I roll my eyes and knock my knee against his with a bit more force than is strictly necessary. “That’s enough. I get it.”
He holds his knee against mine, refusing to be moved. I breathe slowly through my nose and imagine poisoning every last butterfly in my stomach.
The opening credits start. West leans his head closer and lowers his voice. I have to tilt so my ear is nearly at his lips. “How often do you think about what it’ll be like to see one of your books on-screen?”
“The chances of that are low,” I say. The look he gives me is flat and disbelieving. I bite my cheek to keep from smiling too big. “But I think about it all the time.”
“I knew it.” He sits up with a smug smile and tosses some popcorn into his mouth. “I call dibs,” he says suddenly, his mouth again close enough to draw goose bumps to the surface of my skin.
“On what?” I remove the bucket from between his legs and settle it in my lap in case he’s talking about the popcorn.
“Your movie premiere. I want to go.”
“You’re calling dibs on a ticket to a movie that doesn’t exist based on a book that I haven’t written yet?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. You can come.” I turn sideways and am startled by how close he is, grinning at me like he stole something. “You have to bring the Red Vines,” I say, snapping a piece of licorice between my teeth.
West watches the movement closely. “It’s a deal.”