Page 10 of Beauty Of Her

Ten hours later…

I was completely out of my element. I stared at the movie app on my phone, completely clueless about what film to choose. I hadn’t seen a movie in years and didn’t realize how complicated it had become to purchase a single ticket. When did it become a thing for reserved seats only in a theater? That was the rush of getting to the movies as a kid. We always had to leave at least thirty minutes before the movie commenced to secure the perfect seats, leave enough time to buy popcorn and take our last bathroom break. Much to my father's chagrin, I always called dibs on the aisle seat in case I needed to go. He hated missing any scene of the movie, even if it completely sucked.

I ended up settling on some action flick that I had already forgotten the name of. Before I knew it, I had a jumbo popcorn, a large soda, and a bag of Skittles and was headed to theater five. I was really doing this as I showed the oblivious ticket taker my phone for him to scan. He barely even acknowledged my proof of purchase. Heck, anyone could just waltz right by and get in. What the hell was going on here? I marched to the theater and stopped before the large red five, signaling I had reached the right place.

I was really going to do this. Sit by myself for two hours, pretending I would forget about the woman who continued to occupy my mind every night before drifting to sleep. What was even crazier was I hadn’t touched myself or paid attention to anyone else since meeting her. It was as if I was saving myself for the chance that I’d ever get to see her again. I was literally punishing myself over what I hadn’t a clue. But my mind spiraled. I was in a continuous semi-hard state, and all I wanted to do was relieve all the pent-up stress my body garnered for this woman. It was like I was under some spell.

I took a deep breath before entering, reminding myself of Bridgette’s advice and that I desperately needed to take my mind off Julia. I sat near the back of the theater and settled in, welcoming the previews that teased upcoming films. I hardly paid attention, though, as my mind drifted back to Julia. I tried focusing on the movie once it started, but it was useless. My attention wasn’t here.

Just as I was about to give up on trying to forget about Julia and head out, a figure walked in and sat down three rows before me. My heart skipped a beat when I realized who it was.

Julia.

I was pissed. Not only did I have a shit day at work, with a boss breathing down my neck all because one of our biggest accounts decided to move up their re-brand launch date by two weeks, pushing me up against a near-impossible deadline, but Peter had to throw a tantrum my way.

Every Thursday was Peter’s night to take the girls out for dinner. Whether he cooked for them or dined out, those details didn’t matter. We established this routine when we first separated and struggled to maintain it. Well, the struggle really fell in Peter’s court since, over the last year, he had consistently tried to switch the days on me whenever it felt inconvenient for him to commit to Thursday. And it wasn’t like he would give me a few days' notice to reschedule. No, that would be too generous of him. Instead, he’d try to rearrange the schedule several hours before. And while I had relented on a few occasions, tonight, there was no fucking way. When I pushed back on Peter’s request earlier today to move it to tomorrow night, I served him with a big fat, no. Of course, he whined and tried to pin me as the bad guy, but too fucking bad. According to our car ride to school, the girls were expecting to see him and were looking forward to it. There was no way I could deal with a double dose of disappointment after the day I endured. The only thing I asked of Peter lately was consistency regarding the kids. Yes, he was late on child support payments almost always, and yes, I paid alimony to him on time. I was sick of bending for him. So, I made it a point that he would see his children, and if that wasn’t going to pan out, then he’d simply have to wait to see the girls for the next scheduled visit.

I won.

Except, I always felt like the loser. I was just exhausted. Sometimes, I genuinely struggled. Not in the sense of being able to get out of bed. I was fine in that respect. I just wanted to feel normal again, and I had no idea when that would happen. If it ever would again.

There was so much adrenaline and pent-up energy coursing through my body I couldn’t bring myself to go home. I wanted to be out and use this unexpressed energy and burn it. Amelia was busy tonight with another boy toy, so I was left alone to decide what to do. My mind screamed to do something I hadn’t done in ages, but what?

I could go to the gym, but I had a treadmill for that at home. I could go out to eat alone, but did I feel like sitting in a restaurant at a table or at the bar with the risk of being approached? I wasn’t stupid. The few times I had eaten out solo, at least one poor guy tried to hit on me. I wasn’t ugly, but I didn’t feel worthy. It was hard to explain, but my divorce left me depleted from almost everything, and here I was, building back my walls one brick at a time.

So, with all this in mind, what did I want to do? After a hellish day, I peered out of my office, watching the final people stumble out of the building. One of the newbies walked by carrying a fresh bag of microwave popcorn, and the salty, buttery scent coated my nostrils. I breathed in the warm aroma, trying to recall the last time I had hot popcorn. And then it hit me. I would go to the movies, and I knew just the theater.

It had an open bar of real food to order in case popcorn and candy didn’t satiate my taste buds. An action movie seemed appropriate because watching anything soft certainly wouldn’t calm my buzzed nerves. Maybe I’d even order a cocktail.

Thirty minutes later, as I walked toward the theater, I could feel my body starting to relax. It was as though my muscles were finally letting go of all the stress and tension from earlier. Stepping inside the dimly lit lobby, I was hit with the sweet smell of buttery popcorn that floated above the chatter of movie-goers. With a smile, I went to the ticket counter and scanned the list of movies playing. After a moment of hesitation, I bought a ticket for an action flick and headed to the bar.

The bartender was young, probably not much older than Amelia's current minute man. He looked at me with a friendly smile and asked what he could get me. "Can I get a vodka tonic?" I said, trying not to sound like someone not used to ordering cocktails at a bar alone. The bartender offered a slight smile and prepared my drink with expert skill. He handed the clear cocktail to me; I tipped him and made my way to theater five. This was insane! I was going to watch a movie buzzed in public and didn’t need to sneak anything in. If this was how people saw movies these days, I fully supported it.

I found my seat, but something was off. A pair of mysterious yet familiar eyes watched me. I couldn’t quite pin them because of the darkened room. I wasn’t about to start staring at this stranger, especially when I realized we were the only people in the theater. Of course, I had to pick the movie no one wanted to see. Something about this man, though, seemed so familiar. I was about to turn around for a better look when the lights dipped to pitch black, with seconds passing before the previews commenced.

I couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched as they played. I tried to focus on the upcoming movie, but my eyes darted to the stranger sitting a few rows behind me. I couldn't identify his features, but this mysterious man intrigued me. Like I had already met him.

The movie started with a bang, and I lost myself in the thrilling action sequences. The drinks must have gone straight to my head because I cheered on the protagonist as he took down the bad guys.

About halfway through the movie, something shifted in me. Maybe it was the adrenaline from the film or the liquid courage, but all I wanted to focus on was the man a few rows back. My heart rate increased, and my senses elevated from a particular vanilla scent. The restraint seeped from my body, and I knew it was only a matter of time before the mystery lifted. The movie’s music swelled to its peak, and I turned around to finally get a good look at the man. Our eyes locked in an instant connection, leaving me breathless.

Holy fuck. It was the butcher boy…Brett.

He smiled at our mutual recognition, and I wondered. Did he know it was me all along? My cheeks reddened when I caught myself staring. I whipped my head away, the movie’s plot forgotten. My mind raced, trying to process what to do next. Some of me wanted to grab my stuff and bolt out of the theater, but another felt a strange pull—an attraction that I hadn’t felt in years. It wasn’t just physical, though. Something inside drew me to him, and I didn’t want it to stop.

A creak of a seat pierced the movie’s soundtrack, and a few thuds later, I felt his breath tickle the back of my neck. His sweet-spiced, masculine scent filled my nostrils, begging me to turn around, bury my nose into his neck, and breathe Brett in.

“I didn’t know you liked action movies,” Brett said. I didn’t see him smile, but his tone gave it away.

I turned around to face him, my pulse racing. "I didn't know you went to the movies alone," I retorted, trying to mask the thrill in my voice. He chuckled, inching closer, making my heart skip a beat.

"I guess we both have our secrets," he said, his breath still warm on my neck. His eyes searched for me in the dark, and chills rippled down my spine. An energy about him made me want to open up, let down my guard, and see where this attraction took us. He stood and pointed to the vacant seat next to mine. “Can I sit?”

My eyes darted to the chair, and I nodded. Brett sat beside me, and his body heat radiated onto my skin. The movie continued, but I couldn't pay attention anymore. Brett’s proximity consumed my attention. His knee brushed against mine, setting my body on fire, a flood of heat coursing down my legs. I wanted to touch him, have his skin pressed to mine, and explore every inch of him. But my apprehension and insecurities deterred those urges. Also, I barely knew the guy.

“So, tell me. How did the burgers turn out? Did your girls like them?”

The way Brett casually referred to my daughters without the slightest trace of apprehension sent a strange surge of hope to my heart. “They weren’t thrilled with how I cooked them. I mean, I liked them.” My eyes scanned the theater again to confirm it was really just us.

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