When I set my drink down, Blaine reached for my hand. He ran a finger across the back, from one pink mark just off center to another near my little finger. “I see you’re still healing.” He reached out with his other arm, and the cuff of his sleeve pulled back far enough to reveal his battle wounds—two faint scrapes on his wrist.
“Izzy’s way of making sure we don’t forget her,” I said.
“My assistant asked if I’d gotten a kitten.”
We were at the small restaurant where we had been introduced. As then, we were seated on the bar side but instead of being at a high top we were at a small table next to the windows. There was less foot traffic around us but cold seeped through the glass. The fabric of my top was too thin to be the least bit warm, but I am sick to death of sweaters and jackets. Blaine’s hands were warm around my fingers though.
Our plan, formed during a late phone call last night, was “dinnerish” and a movie. The “ish” to leave wiggle room to redefine the meaning of dinner if need be. Before the waitress stopped by a second time, I asked Blaine what he was in the mood for. In other words: “Are we having popcorn at the movie tonight?” That was the factor that would determine whether we ordered dinner or an appetizer.
“A very thoughtful person left me a bag of top-of-the-line popcorn last night.” I could tell there was a “but” stuck in his throat.
“But it isn’t movie theater popcorn.”
“No. It isn’t.”
“I understand.” It’s possible that at some point I will stop finding his popcorn weakness adorable. That point wasn’t tonight.
He insisted I choose the appetizer. I dislike when a person can’t or won’t make a decision so I try to avoid dithering, but having to choose between the Brussels sprouts and the beet fries was killing me. I left it until the waitress appeared and asked if we had decided. “Beet fries, please.” I reasoned that I could make roasted Brussels sprouts with balsamic glaze at home but I couldn’t replicate the beet fries.
Blaine added, “Let’s have an order or Brussels sprouts too.” When the waitress walked away, he smiled. “The inner turmoil was all over your face.”
I scrunched my nose. “I don’t have the poker face I think I do.”
“It’s a lovely face, and I like looking at it. Maybe I’m learning to read the subtleties of your expressions.”
That was new. And unexpected. If my face betrayed my surprise, befuddlement and embarrassment, he didn’t let on.
Suddenly I wasn’t cold anymore.
We arrived at the movie theater a little bit late. The beauty of ordering tickets and reserving seats online is that it no longer matters, not to mention that the new layouts with the recliners make it possible to get to middle seats without disturbing anyone.
We settled in while the previews were showing. The movie we watched tonight, “Red Sparrow,” may be the last one we go to for quite some time if the trailers were representative of what’s coming out over the next few months. It’s a shame because there is just no better way to spend a couple of hours than side by side with someone you like.
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