Page 25 of The Riley Effect

“These are my favorite.” I pass the box to Ivy. “Growing up, when I had a bad day at school or didn’t play well, my dad would take me to the movie theater on our block. We’d get a large popcorn and then mix in the Bunch-A-Crunch.” My smile grows as it always does when I talk about my parents.

My parents’ love story isn’t one you’ll hear about in fairytales; it’s raw and real, but they wake up and choose each other daily. My parents were in their early twenties when they had me. My mom chose to drop out of college to take a job as a receptionist so she could support us, while my dad finished school. When he graduated, he found a job back in the city as a middle school physical education teacher. Money was tight at times, but it didn’t matter because I always came home to a house filled with love.

Before Ivy can get out whatever is on her mind, Indy comes storming in with two fresh bowls of popcorn.

“Jay, can you help Marcus in the kitchen?” she asks. “He’s finishing up the drinks.”

I nod and head toward the kitchen. The drinks aren’t quite ready, so I take the opportunity to watch the impromptu concert the girls are putting on. Ivy’s hips move to the beat ofDancing Queen.I can feel the corners of my lips lift as Ivy takes Indy’s hand and spins her. Ivy’s smile takes over the entire room. It’slike seeing the sun for the first time after winter’s long, dark days. I like seeing her like this, loose and living life freely.

“Are you just going to stare?” You can always count on Marcus to ruin a moment.

“What… what are you talking about?”

I take the drinks Marcus made for Ivy and me and move toward the living room.

“You’re fooling nobody!” He yells at my back.

By the time I return to the girls, Indy has claimed the loveseat for her and Marcus, leaving the more spacious sectional for Ivy and me. As I settle down on the cushion next to Ivy. She smells fresh, like citrus and mint. Ivy’s sweet and spicy perfume matches the fun and sarcastic personality I’m getting to know.

Once I’m situated with my back in the corner of the couch, I grab a handful of popcorn out of the bowl on Ivy’s lap. My hand stills in the popcorn bowl. Something warm and smooth covers my fingers.

“I hope it’s okay,” Ivy says shyly. “It sounded like a good combination, so I went ahead and mixed it myself.”

I place my finger on her nose, leaving a smudge of milk chocolate in its wake.

“It’s more than okay. It’s perfect, actually.”

“If y’all are done flirting, I will start the movie,” Indy states. Politely telling us to shut up.

I should have known the impromptu concert Indy and Ivy put on while Marcus and I were getting drinks was a sign becauseMama Miais now playing in the hockey house.

Marcus hates musicals, but I secretly love them, so I’m excited about the movie choice.

“I’m not watching this,” Marcus complains from under Indy.

“Yes, you are,” Indy scolds. “I already told you I’ll leave with the snacks if you change the movie on us.”

“I’m good with the movie choice,” I say before throwing a few pieces of popcorn into my mouth.

As we are taken to a small Greek island via our television, out of the corner of my eye, I see Ivy dancing to the opening credits. I don’t hide the smile it causes. If someone asked me when was the last time I’d seen Ivy this relaxed, my answer would be the night of my party, but tonight feels different, none of us are drinking, so there is no aid for any of us. The girls have their final exhibition game tomorrow, and there was no way I would be a drunk fool around a sober Ivy.

As the wedding guests make it to the island, I start inching closer to Ivy. She has her legs tucked to her side and is curled against the couch’s armrest.Somehow,my hand finds her thigh.

“You’re a really shitty singer,” I tell her while squeezing her thigh.

She flashes me a smile. “Do you compliment all your dates so generously?”

“No, just you,” I say with another squeeze.

After a second, with nothing but Ivy’s coffee-colored eyes piercing my soul, I decide to put all my cards on the table.

“I have never brought a girl back here to just watch movies, and I definitely have never hung out with a girl sober in my living room with my best friend and his girlfriend.”

Ivy nods. Fearing her response, I give my attention to the three middle-aged men singing on some small Greek Island.

It’s barely a whisper, but I hear Ivy say, “That’s good to know.”

My heart stops when I feel a soft hand resting on my thigh. She keeps it there, and I decide to intertwine our fingers. She doesn’t resist.

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