Chapter Sixteen #2
And she was successful for approximately five minutes, even peeling off with Brad and Tony after they’d gotten their popcorn.
Maybe she could sit with them instead. Brad owed her for…
something. The ledger of favors between them was so messy that they’d never balance it.
But sitting next to Grant was dangerous to her health and sanity.
She was so hyperaware of the residual warmth from his fingers lingering on her locket that an accidental hand brush when they both reached for some popcorn might do her in for good.
“Here.” A soda cup appeared under her nose. “Diet Coke with a splash of Sprite on top.”
Tony stared at the drink Grant handed her. “I’m sorry, you got her a what now?”
“Diet Coke with a splash of Sprite,” Grant repeated like it was the most normal drink in the world. “It’s a Diet Coke and lime when you don’t have any lime.”
“I made them all the time when we worked here,” Ivy explained, because Tony was still dubious. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
“Whatever you say, Popcorn Girl.”
The theater was crowded. Even if they’d wanted to sit together, there weren’t four seats across. After a brief, awkward pause while they scanned the theater, Tony told Brad to follow him, and Brad gladly did so, happier than any dog being taken on a walk.
“We might have to split up,” Ivy said, her escape within reach.
Grant frowned as he studied the worn red velvet seats, then grabbed her free hand and led her to the other side of the theater.
His calluses from days of manual labor rubbed against her fainter ones from dragging her suitcase through airports.
The sensation fascinated her so much that she bumped into him when he stopped abruptly three rows from the front.
There was a man sitting by himself, an empty seat on either side of him.
He was in their age range, maybe a few years older, and looked familiar, but Ivy couldn’t quite place him.
“Hey, Kurt,” Grant said, “are these saved or…?”
Kurt Clarkson! With the name, it all snapped into place.
Kurt Clarkson had been in the grade between her and Grant and was a frequent moviegoer the summer they’d worked at the theater.
His family owned the funeral home, and even in high school, she’d assumed he’d take over the family business because he was very quiet and a bit odd.
Kurt looked up at them, eyes enlarged by thick glasses, and after staring at Ivy for a moment, he smiled. “Grant and Ivy, together again!” He moved one seat over, and Grant sat down next to Kurt, putting Ivy on the aisle.
Kurt leaned over Grant. “Do you remember when Mr. Donaldson showed this in July?”
Ivy nodded. “Of course I do. It was ninety degrees and Grant was wearing a Santa suit.”
The lights went down, and Kurt sat back in his seat, eyes attentively on the screen. Grant dug in the inside pocket of his coat and tapped something against the back of Ivy’s hand. It was a box of Junior Mints.
“I love these.” She smiled and took the box from him.
“I know,” he answered.
The warmth of being known spread through her body. It was part embarrassment at being perceived at all and part euphoria that she’d been on his mind. “You didn’t have to buy them for me.”
“But they’re your favorite.” Matter-of-fact. A God-given inevitability. She loved Junior Mints, so of course he’d made sure she had Junior Mints. Junior Mints and a Diet Coke with a splash of Sprite for the citrus flavor.
It was a good thing Kurt was sitting next to them, because if she hadn’t been uncomfortably aware of his presence, she would’ve kissed Grant.
She focused on the screen while Kermit’s face was laser etched onto it and the Jim Henson Company logo appeared, then the In Memoriam. She couldn’t help herself. She leaned toward Grant, and when she turned to whisper in his ear, their noses brushed.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I just wanted to tell you a fun fact.”
“I was going to tell you a fun fact,” he whispered back. “You first.”
“Did you know this was the first movie the studio did after Jim Henson died?”
Grant stifled a chuckle. “That’s what I was going to tell you.”
The cheery notes of the score began to play as the camera panned through a snowy version of Victorian London, but Ivy couldn’t manage to pry her attention away from Grant.
“Can’t believe Brad and Tony didn’t want to hear our commentary.”
“We’re educational and delightful.”
Kurt cleared his throat. Ivy couldn’t tell if it was his polite way of suggesting they be quiet or if he had a tickle, but she sank into her chair and focused on the screen again.
Grant’s knee tapped against hers. He’d balanced the popcorn bucket on his thigh so she could easily reach it without having to pass it back and forth.
She’d really been in too many situationships if these small acts of thoughtfulness were making her wet.
If all it took to get her to consider putting out was movie snacks, she was in real trouble.
The Muppet Christmas Carol was as hilarious as it was delightful, and there was something extra wonderful about sharing a comedic experience with other people.
The jokes hit harder and the laughs were bigger in a group.
There was never a moment, though, where she forgot Grant was next to her.
She kept looking at him to see if he was laughing at the same things she was laughing at and, more than half the time, found he was doing the same thing.
He had to be worried about how his olive branch was being taken if he cared so much about her having a good time.
I’m having a good time, she mouthed, so Kurt wouldn’t get mad at them for talking.
Relief shone on his face while Michael Caine danced down the street with the Ghost of Christmas Present. Grant mouthed back, Me too.