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He swallows hard, twisting his head from side to side, his thick neck working. “I was trying to be a good wingman,” he says with a smile. “But please don’t tell Sophie or Theo that I helped my boy pick up their girl. I like working at Mailbox.”
His confession startles a laugh out of me, my embarrassment over being in Julian’s presence evaporating. “Well, I’m pretty sure I’m at minimum an accomplice, although I’m 90 percent sure that Emma knew you guys would be here and conned me into being her wing-woman. And I like working at Mailbox, too, so…” I mime zipping my lips. Julian’s eyes track my movement, lingering on my lips for a second.
We move forward with the line, settling side-by-side as we follow the group of teens that have swallowed Emma and Liam. Now that I don’t have to make eye contact, words come easier.
“Do you?” His voice is soft but strong.
“Do I what?”
“Like working at Mailbox?”
I scrunch my eyebrows, unsure of what he’s asking. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”
He shrugs beside me, our bodies close enough to touch at the movement. “I wasn’t sure after the way the guys in dev treated you.”
“Oh.” It’s my turn to shrug. “I’m used to it. My last job was way worse. At least no one here has asked me to fetch them coffee. And I don’t think anyone’s called me ‘sweetie’ or ‘honey,’ so…” I trail off, thinking. “No, I take that back. Morgan Edwards calls me ‘doll’ but he’s, well, him, so I just ignore it.”
“Just because you’re used to it doesn’t mean it’s okay.”
I shrug. “I know. But it’s reality. It’s not like it’s new. I’ve been the only girl for as long as I can remember. College, high school, whatever.” I snap my mouth closed before I confess more. He doesn’t need to hear about how I was the one who built the website for our high school’s booster clubs to fundraise with, but told everyone it was Colin. Or that I applied to every internship in college as Frankie instead of Francesca.
“It still doesn’t mean it’s okay.” He looks like he’s about to argue some more, but the crowd of kids ahead of us moves aside, and it’s our turn.
I peer around Julian’s frame, instinctively putting my mittened hand on his shoulder for balance as I rise on my tiptoes. “Did Emma get her ticket?”
“Looks like Liam bought it for her.” Julian tips his chin toward the pair, Liam and Emma already heading through the doors into the lobby of the theater.
“Damn, your kid has moves.” I wobble, losing my balance, and quickly drop my heels to the ground. Julian’s hand is at the small of my back, stopping me from falling further. I cough, aware of him touching me even through my puffy jacket. “Can I buy your ticket, then?” I wince and jam my hands deep into my pockets, suddenly nervous.
Julian doesn’t answer. After an uncomfortable few seconds while the bored-looking kid behind the box office glass waves us over, I look up to see why he’s not saying anything. Julian stares down at me, eyebrows pulled down. “You want to buy my ticket?”
“Um, yeah?” I lean forward and order two tickets through the window. “Liam didn’t need to buy Emma’s ticket. Sophie already Venmoed me the money for it.” I shrug. “I might as well buy yours instead.” I take the tickets the kid slides under the gap and follow Julian to the doors to go inside. “Besides, if I don’t, then I have to send the money back. Then I’ll have to tell her why Emma didn’t need the money for her ticket. And I sure don’t want to be the one to explain to Sophie that your son has game and bought it for her. And I don’t want to explain to her, or Sutton, that Emma conned me into bringing her on what appears to be a date.”
Julian takes the tickets from me and hands them to the usher. “So what you’re saying is that you’re trying to save us both from looking stupid for being conned by a couple of teenagers and avoiding explanations to our boss?” He walks toward the concession stand, a question in the quirk of his eyebrow. “Then it sounds like I owe you some popcorn and maybe even a slushie.”
The hand he rests between my shoulder blades, gently steering me to the back of the line, spans across my entire back. His thumb and pointer finger press at the edges of my shoulders. The pressure wars with the giddiness bubbling up in my belly. I don’t know why the idea of sitting in a movie with Julian has me feeling this way. It’s not like he asked me on a date—we’re just friends. He’s being nice. Friendly. Not a dick.
If only more guys who worked at Mailbox weren’t dicks.
Seven
Julian
What the fuck am I doing? We agreed to a single date for the party next month, nothing more.
So why am I flirting with Frankie? And why can’t I stop?
“Popcorn and a slushie?” The smile she gives me lights up her face in a way I’ve never seen at the office. Happy Frankie is a whole different creature to Scared Frankie, and I want more. “One small problem, though.”
“What’s that?” My hand drops from her shoulder as she steps forward in the line. I flex my fingers before sliding my hand into my back pocket, a tingle running up my arm from touching her.
Frankie points to the slushie machine behind the concessions stand, a piece of paper taped to the handle declaring it out of order. “How about a soda and some Swedish Fish instead?”
“No popcorn?”
Frankie’s stage-whisper is quiet enough that I have to lean down to hear her. The soft knit of her bright yellow beanie brushes my cheek, I’m so close. “Will you still sit with me if I confess I don’t actually like popcorn?”
I stand up straight, knocking her hat crooked when it sticks to my beard. “No popcorn? How can you watch a movie without popcorn?”
