Page 64 of Becoming Mila
“It’s because they have a mixture of everything!” Cindy says. She’s sitting on my right, a huge bag of popcorn in her lap, and she sits up and nearly jumps over the armrest to get closer to me. “Action. Adventure.Romance.”
“Well,” I say with a forced smile, shrinking back further into my seat, “I hope you like the movie.” Even though I know already that she won’t.
Dad and Laurel Peyton’s characters have been gradually falling in love over the course of the first two movies, but in this third installment they don’t end up together. Two hours from now, this room will be filled with disappointed groans. At least I have the scene where Dad’s character takes a bullet to the chest to look forward to.
“You okay?” Blake asks quietly, his head turned, and his gaze focused on me.
“Mmhmm,” I respond unconvincingly.
I’m relieved when the lights dim and the trailers begin, because it shuts up the audience and I no longer have to listen to endless discussions around people’s predictions for what this movie has in store. Next to me, it sounds as if Cindy isn’t even breathing when the movie’s opening sequence rolls; around us, the theater is in complete and utter silence.
Because I’ve already seen the movie once before, it’s not that bad watching it a second time. Dadisan amazing actor and there is no denying that he was born to be on screen, but it’s always so strange to see him act in ways he doesn’t in real life. There are certain facial expressions that belong to the character, and not Everett Harding. Mannerisms that I know aren’t Dad’s. It makes for an odd experience, watching someone youknow, your own dad, as someone you don’t recognize. But lately, it’s not just on screen that I don’t recognize him.
I physically cringe whenever Dad whispers some cheesy line in a husky tone, and I flat out close my eyes and will myself to fall asleep whenever he and Laurel share an on-screen kiss.Thisis always the weirdest part. I think it’s pretty gross seeing Dad kiss my own mom, let alone smooching with his co-stars on a massive screen in HD.
“Hey,” Blake whispers during the third of these sickly romantic scenes, nudging my knee, “do you want to get out of here?”
I peel open one eye and look at him through the darkness, his face illuminated by the screen, the movie flashing across his eyes. Obviously, Blake has picked up on my discomfort.
“Please,” I whisper.
Blake finds my hand in the dark, pulling me up with him. We shuffle along the row together, him guiding the way, but then I trip over the outstretched foot of Lacey.
“Sorry!” she hisses, but her tone isn’t that apologetic.
Blake and I continue hastily along the row, trying our best not to disrupt the movie (even though – childishly, I admit – I would love to call out the ending and spoil it for everyone), and then dash down the aisle, taking two steps at a time with our hands still interlocked. I hear a low wolf-whistle that I imagine is from Barney, and before we round the corner to leave the screen I steal a look back at the audience. They are all truly captivated, their eyes glued to the screen, no one so much as daring to rustle a bucket of popcorn.
We push our way out through the heavy doors and into the now empty foyer, and I breathe a huge sigh of relief. There’s no one here except an employee sweeping up, but I can hear the rumble of sound from movies playing in all of the screens.
“You were right,” Blake says, laughing like we’ve just escaped a fate worse than death. “That movie really does suck, and I’m making that judgment after only sitting through forty minutes of it.”
“I don’t want to go back in there,” I tell him, staring back at the screen doors with a sense of dread.
“We don’t have to,” he says. “C’mon.”
We head back toward the ticket desks and concession stands, but I have a feeling they won’t get busy again until the crowds for the next showing of the latestFlash Pointmovie arrive, bringing with them a new buzz of noise and commotion. When we walk past that cardboard stand of the cast by the entrance again, I’m in half a mind to punch a hole through it exactly where Dad’s ridiculous grin is. But I don’t want to be escorted out of the movie theater for assaulting a photograph, so I leave it be and make my way outside with Blake.
We’ve just missed sunset. The sun has disappeared behind the horizon for the day, but it’s still light out and the air is thick with lingering heat that radiates up from the concrete sidewalks. It’s a Sunday evening, so the plaza is pretty busy. People are disappearing into restaurants and bars, but Blake leads me back to his truck.
He leans back against the tailgate and gazes down at my hand, aimlessly touching my bracelet and playing with my fingers. “We don’t have to wait for the others to get out of the movie,” he says. “We can grab food ourselves. There’s a Cheesecake Factory over there –”
“Or,” I say, cutting him off, “we can do this.”
And for the first time in my life, I pluck up the courage to make the first move. I grasp Blake’s hand and move it to my hip, then step forward to close the distance between us. Against his truck, I press my lips to his.
We may be in the middle of a parking lot, but Blake kisses me as though we are alone in the world. That first kiss of ours on the night of the bonfire was tentative and careful, but this time we know the other won’t pull away. That’s why we don’t hold back; we lose ourselves completely. Blake’s free hand is in my hair as he kisses me deeply, holding me close, and I forget all about the movie.
“Yeah, this is way better,” he murmurs, smiling against my lips.
We pull apart for only a moment, our foreheads together, my thumb brushing the dimple in his left cheek. We stare at each other, breathing more heavily than before. I’m not sure whose smile is the brightest.
“We’re in Nashville,” I murmur in between breaths, “and I think we should take advantage of that. How about a detour to Honky Tonk Central?”
And then I have my answer – the brightest smile from Blake.
24
Late Tuesday afternoon, I am parading the aisles of Walmart with Savannah and Tori on the hunt for a new hair dryer after Savannah’s blew up, but we’ve gotten distracted and now have a cart full of random unnecessary junk. We only popped in here after grabbing iced coffees from Dunkin’ Donuts down the street, but have now been wandering the aisles for almost an hour.
