Page 3 of The Second Chance Cinema
“Yeah, I guess,” Drake agreed. “But see …” His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth. “I don’t have any baggage.”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Everybody has baggage.”
“Okay fine, maybe, mine is more like a carry-on,” Drake said. “It’s a nice travel backpack. Practical, compact.”
They were only a few blocks from Ellie’s apartment when shestarted into the intersection. A walk signal hadn’t lit up yet, but there were no cars on either side and no sound of wheels sloshing through the rain. The storm had turned the streets into a private city just for them.
“Aren’t you going to—” Drake stood alone on the curb.
“I looked both ways.” Ellie was already halfway across the street. The rain had slowed, but it was still coming down. “Why wait for the light when you can look for yourself?”
“Well, I’ve been told I play it safe,” Drake said, following her footsteps with slight hesitation. “In fact …” The shelter of the umbrella found her again. “I even had to psych myself up to suggest a walk. I don’t normally walk at night, especially in the rain. But, you know. Umbrella. And also, I wanted to keep talking to you.”
Ellie grinned. “Well, thanks for not leaving me to drown, Mary Poppins.”
The urge to invite Drake up to her apartment was strong, but whatever was happening here was meant to aerate. Besides, Ellie couldn’t remember what kind of clothing Rorschach would be waiting for them on the floor.
“Thanks for the walk,” Ellie said. A curtain of rain fell between them as she stepped back.
“Yeah,” Drake told her. “Well, now I know where you live. Wow. That sounded creepy. I just meant I should probably get your number, too.”
“Probablyget my number?”
“Just playing it safe again.”
“Oh, come on, Drake. I talked to you for three hours at a bar and walked with you for what would’ve been a three-minute ride home.” Ellie held out her hand. Drake reached to grab it. “Your phone,” she chuckled. “I was asking for your phone.”
“Right.” He pulled his cell phone out and handed it over, stepping closer to shield her from the storm again as she typed hernumber in and assigned it a playful name he read aloud. “The Girl at the Bar.” He nodded.
Ellie kissed his cheek. “Good night, Drake.”
She could feel him watching her as she splashed through a few rain puddles and greeted a neighbor who was always walking her dog at an inopportune time. Ellie pretended to look for new mail, even though she already had earlier that day, to feel him there a second longer, his eyes on her.
The next morning, Ellie sat on her balcony with a half-finished crossword. A sound jolted her out of her thoughts as she struggled to figure out six down, “a powerful attraction.” The sound was a text.
Guess I’ll see you soon, jacket thief, it read. Drake’s jacket was sitting inside the sliding glass door. It dangled from the back of her dining chair as if it had always existed there, waiting to be worn again.
Magnet, Ellie scribbled into the crossword squares before responding,How do you feel about Mexican food?
I feel good about it if it’s tonight, Drake replied.
Then:Sorry. That was forward.Ellie could almost hear his throat clearing between the messages. She tossed her legs up on the chair opposite her and waited for another response. A cardinal flitted down onto the balcony, splashing its feathers in a puddle.
Then:Let me rephrase. Are you and my jacket free for dinner?Ellie hesitated. Drake liked the version of her he had seen last night. This was the best version of Ellie—the version that had been practiced and refined over the years to create a certain impression. This Ellie was fun and carefree and kept the dark parts tucked away—the parts of herself that, if revealed, might send Drake running.
Ellie tried to set those parts aside a little longer. Despite the conversation she’d started about baggage the night before, he didn’t need to find out her whole story yet.
Yes, she typed, looking over at his jacket as if it might weigh in on everything that would follow.We’re free tonight.
2
2.5 YEARS LATER
It’s not that your new stuff is bad,” Nolan told her, trimming the leaves of thePothosplants that lined his black onyx desk. “I don’t want you to think I’m saying that. Lately, though, your writing …” Ellie willed him to set the pruning scissors down, but he continued to twirl them in the style of an old-west gunslinger.
“Lately, it’s just been okay.”
Okay.
