Page 54 of Better Than the Movies
“American Pie?”
“Not even close.”
“In what era,” I started, wondering if maybe I had him pegged totally wrong, “did this cinematic masterpiece come out?”
“I feel like you’re assuming that I only like boob movies.”
“Um.” His assumption about my assumption was correct, but now I was having doubts. The more I knew about Wes, the more he proved my preconceived notions wrong. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it.”
“I’m watchingMiss Congeniality.”
“What?” I almost dropped the phone. “But, Bennett. That’s a rom-com.”
“Yup.”
“So…?”
“So, I stopped because it looked funny.”
“And…?”
“And it is.”
“I love that movie. What channel?”
“Thirty-three. Wait—your parents still have cable too?”
“Yes. My dad is afraid to cut the cord because he isn’t sure if he’ll get all the good boxing matches if we switch to streaming.” I flipped on my TV and turned it to the movie. It was the beginning, where Sandra Bullock’s character was eating steak with Michael Caine at a restaurant. “The thought of losing them terrifies the man.”
“It’s soccer for my dad. He’s convinced that all you can watch on Hulu are movies and NBC shows.”
That made me smile. Wes’s dad was a super-nerdy college professor who I never would’ve pegged as a fan of anything athletic. “Do you think we’ll be technology-challenged when we’re old too?”
“Oh, for sure. You’ll probably be one of those old people who doesn’t even have a TV. Every day will be the same. You’ll play the piano, drink tea, and listen to records for hours, then take the bus to the movie theater.”
“You make aging sound incredible. I want that life now.”
“So do you sing when you play?”
“What?”
“I’ve always wondered. When you play the piano, do you sing?”
He’d “always” wondered? Did that mean he’d thought of it often? When we were kids and I practiced with the windows open,he used to howl like he was a dog and it was hurting his ears. I guess I hadn’t realized he knew I still played.
I hadn’t heard him howl in a lot of years.
“It depends what I’m playing.” It seemed incredibly personal, sharing this with him, but it also didn’t feel wrong. Probably because I’d known him so long. I glanced over at the piano book sitting on my desk. “I don’t really sing when I’m doing scales or warm-ups, and I definitely don’t sing if I’m playing something super challenging. But when I play for fun, look out.”
He said around a laugh, “Gimme a song that makes you belt.”
“Umm…” I giggled. I couldn’t help it. Sharing private things about myself while sitting in the dark made me feel…something.Some kind of way.
Maybe I was just feeling introspective, because—out of nowhere—I realized that my life for the past few days had felt different. I was suddenly living this stereotype of a high school life. I’d gone to aboozeparty, and the following night I’d loaded into a car with a bunch of people to watch a high school sports game.
And my love interest had texted me.
Not only that, but I was talking on the phone to the boy next door as if it was a thing.
