Page 16 of Hello Darling
“So you decided to come to a dark room and slouch in a chair for a couple of hours?”
“I also love this movie and watch it whenever possible. Have you seen it?”
“Many times…Well, I’m sitting back there, so. Enjoy the show.”
“Won’t you join me?”
“Oh. Um.”Won’t I?
He removes his jacket from the seat next to him. “Please.”
“Okay. If you promise not to talk during the movie.”
“Talk over Robert Redford and Paul Newman? I would never.”
I sit down next to him and feel strangely self-conscious. Again. The seats in this theater are wide and each have their own armrests, but his shoulders are wide and he seems to take up more space than a gentleman should. I place my jacket in my lap and fold my hands on top of it, like I’m in church or something. There are only a few inches between us, and this feels like a date for some reason now that I’m sitting next to him. I wish I had showered. I probably smell like soup. He smells clean and well-educated and worldly. He smells good. Fuck, he smells really good and he hasn’t stopped watching me since he opened his eyes. I turn to look at him and blink at him twice.Yes?
He is not at all intimidated by my body language. “Which do you prefer? Butch or Sundance?”
“Butch. No contest.”
“No surprise there.”
“You probably like Sundance.”
“Why would you say that?”
“I don’t know. Pretty Boy Club.”
He blinks his eyes at me twice, mocking me. “You think I’m a pretty boy?”
I face forward again and cross my arms in front of my chest. “Don’t let it go to your head or anything.”
“I won’t. Somehow I get the feeling it’s not a compliment, coming from you.”
I lift my shoulder to my chin and look at him coyly. “It’s notnota compliment.”
He laughs. “I’ll take what I can get. And you’re wrong. I’m a huge Paul Newman fan. Although I do think Redford is underrated as an actor, he’s a wonderful director.”
“I agree,” I say.
“And there is no Pretty Boy Club. But if there were, the first rule of Pretty Boy Club would be to not talk about Pretty Boy Club. And Paul Newman was rather pretty too, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, but he had an edge.”
“You don’t think I have an edge?”
I guffaw. “Chiseled jawlines don’t count.”
“Agree to disagree. But Katharine Ross. Nowshe’spretty.”
“Understatement of the century.” My mother looked almost exactly like the female star of this movie andThe Graduate, but I’m not going to be talking about her with him. From the way he looks at me, I take it he sees a resemblance in me too. My dad has told me so. I don’t really see it.
The Brit finally sits up and rearranges himself in his seat so that he’s taller than me, and now his arm is touching mine. He looks down at me with his sleepy eyes. “So, Stella Starkey. You like Twentieth Century American literature, reality showsandmovies?”
“I don’t really watch reality shows. I’m not sure why I said that. And I likesomemovies.”
He watches me, amused. He’s waiting for me to say something abouthismovies and he also seems to know that I’m not going to. Fortunately, the lights dim to black and he finally turns his gaze towards the screen.
