Page 25 of Caesar DeLuca
He tilts his head to the side as if in interest. “Maybe I’ll join you.”
10
ARIANA
“Wait, you can’t be for real?” I laugh, hours later. “You’re in the mafia and yet you hate mob movies?”
Caesar gives a shrug. “They’re never accurate.”
“Godfather?”
“Nope.”
“Goodfellas?”
“Nope.”
“Scarface?”
“Are you kidding?” he snaps, directing one of his hard stares at me. “Don’t insult me. Garbage cinema. All of them.”
I laugh again, so surprised I can’t think up what to say. We’re comfortable on the couch, the coffee table covered with an assortment of drinks and snacks we’ve been grazing on for the past few hours since our movie marathon began.
So far, we’ve stuck to classic big blockbuster films. Star Wars, JAWS, and now we’ve started on Independence Day.
Caesar doesn’t realize how amusing he is in such a laidback setting. I’m reclined on my end of the sofa, my fleece robe thrown over me like a blanket. A pack of Twizzlers rests in my lap as I pull apart the stringy fruit candy and watch Caesar lean in toward the TV screen.
His brow’s creased, his fingers threaded together, as he stares fixedly at the movie. His thoughts are racing a mile a minute. I may not know the details of them, but the studious nature of his stare tells me he’s engrossed in the film.
Caesar has treated every movie we’ve watched like some deep, think tank type experience. He has no concept of sitting back and enjoying a movie without doing much thinking at all.
Humor tugs at me as I bite back a smile and remind myself it’s technically rude to stare.
“Do you have a problem you’d like to address, Ari?” Caesar asks, glancing over. “You seem like you have something on your mind.”
I can’t suppress my laughter another second—my giggle bubbles out of me as I desperately try to silence myself with a Twizzler. Caesar almost even cracks a grin. His blackish blue eyes flicker and he stretches his jaw as if to avoid the humor that’s breaking through.
It feels gratifying to earn it out of him. At least, almost.
He resisted by the skin of his teeth.
But I’m quickly discovering there’s a playful side to him. It’s hardly obvious but it’s there, sprinkled in between his scowls and harsh stares. His deadpan delivery and smart wit. All of it plays well with my goofiness.
As I giggle and bite off my Twizzler, he’s eyeing me like he can’t wait to hear what I come up with. I’ve quickly learned I enjoy making him shake his head in disbelief. Maybe because Caesar prides himself on being a calculated, analytical man.
Taking him beyond reason and rationale is fun.
“Have you never seen this movie?” I ask finally. “It’s a 90s classic.”
“I already told you I don’t watch a lot of movies. Certainly no movies with aliens and spaceships in them. How’s he not retaliating already? He has the entire nuclear arsenal at his fingertips, and he hasn’t tried to see what they could do against these unidentified foreign objects?”
“He’s just escaped onboard Air Force One.”
“So what? His first matter of business should be defending the other major cities.”
I giggle. “It’s not real, you know that, right?”
“It’s a good thing. Otherwise, Earth would’ve been eviscerated. He’s an incompetent fool.”
