Between You & Me by Marisa Calin Page B

unnecessary regularity to look up and down the street, for me, I guess. I spring into your field of vision:
    ME
    Sorry I’m late.
    You smile.
    YOU
    No probs.
    ME
    Where are the others?
    YOU
    Kate called. They can’t make it. They’re going to a later showing.
    ME
    Oh. We can go to a later one too, then—
    YOU
    Well, we’re here now. Right?
    ME
    I guess.
    And I follow you inside.

THE STREET. LATER THAT NIGHT.
    We emerge back into the real world and walk in comfortable silence down the well-lit street away from the movie theater. My desire to be in movies is rekindled every time I see one. I want to be that girl: the girl kissed passionately after evil is vanquished, with fireworks and an orchestra, and it’s everything she wants. Not the girl kissed without warning after her coffee-shop shift, with cake crumbs in her hair and an orange apron tucked over her arm. It seems like theperfect moment to mention Gabe, so even though I can’t tell what’s going through your head, I jump in:
    ME
    Gabe kissed me.
    You turn and stare at me as if you expect me to continue, as if some kind of explanation for such a bewildering revelation will follow. You still have your 3-D glasses on and I almost laugh. You whip them off, your reaction intense, and I feel instantly defensive.
    ME
    There
are
people who might want to kiss me, you know.
    YOU
    Yeah, but I didn’t know
you
wanted to kiss
him
.
    I hold back my response. I can kiss anyone I choose. One kiss per annum doesn’t seem so promiscuous to me but, feeling
surprisingly
vulnerable, I decide not to get into it.
    ME
    Well, then I’ll hold off on having his babies!
    I pretend to be amused by my humor. You don’t.
    YOU
    I didn’t see it coming, that’s all.
    Still cranky but you’re trying.
    ME
    Neither did I!
    Literally. We walk in silence.
    I think I’ll still have a run for my money for biggest tramp in school.
    You peer at me from the corner of your eye, the way you always do when you’re about to give in.
    YOU
    Not a sure thing, maybe, but you definitely have a shot.
    ME
    Definitely!
    I finally get a smile.
    Well, I’m pretty sure it won’t happen again.
    YOU
    Pretty?
    ME
    Pretty definitely sure.
    You seem almost appeased and let it go. I guess deep down I knew you’d be weird about it or I would have told you sooner. We get away with small talk for the rest of the walk home. You pause as we part company at your house.
    YOU
    Saturday’s supposed to be warmer than usual. We should make the best of it.
    ME
    Sure.
    YOU
    So, I’ll come by your house Saturday morning.
    Good way to patch up this weirdness. You wave and leave me standing here, still thrown by your reaction to it all. I’m pretty sure we won’t talk about the Gabe incident again.

THEATER. THE NEXT DAY.
    We’ve started rehearsals for the second half of the play. Even you’re here today, finalizing lighting design, and I can see you settled in the third row. The rest of us are learning how to dance, fifties style, for a scene in act three. Gabe looks like he should be coordinated but he’s struggling. He sways like he’s playing dodgeball. Mia comes toward us, a soft maroon dress hugging her figure. (I’m almost tempted to revisit my “kiss without consequences” vibe.) I hope she’ll reach for me but she pairs with Gabe, easing toward him to soften his posture. I hover, envious, until she remembers me. Then, as everyone else has been paired, she points me in the direction of the only person not already dancing. You. We grin awkwardly when you reach me onstage because of all the things we’ve done together through the years, slow dancing isn’t one of them. Bouncing around like rock stars in my bedroom, maybe, but not this! A couple of people smile, seeing us deflect embarrassment with overzealous puppet sways. I spare another look, still tinged (
okay, saturated
) with envy, at Mia and Gabe over