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Frankie pulls her hat off, her orange hair sticking up in the static heat now that we’re inside. She makes little spitting noises and wipes the hair away from her face. She’s still wearing her mittens so the hair sticks to her hands as much as her face, her swiping not doing her any good.
I would be lying if I said it wasn’t the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. This isn’t a date, but I’ve never been with a woman who wasn’t always trying so damn hard to look put together.
I never realized how anxious she is at work all the time. I’d never have known her shoulders could be so loose, or her eyes soft and smiling.
“You okay, Gizmo?” I brush her hands away from her face and smooth her hair back with my own mitten-free hands. It was instinctual, but now that I’m touching her face, heat climbs up the back of my neck.
Frankie’s cheeks go bright red, and the tension missing from her body reappears in an instant. I pull away, hands up like I’ve been caught with them in the cookie jar. She swallows and bites her lip. Damn if I don’t want to tug it free.
“G-g-g-gizmo?” she stutters, looking everywhere but at me.
“You know, cute little furry guys? Don’t feed after midnight?” I mime big blinking eyes at her, but the confused look on her face doesn’t leave. Maybe if I play up the stupid she’ll relax again?
“You mean Furbies?” Frankie shrugs. “We never had any—pastor’s kids don’t get the latest and greatest toys, as a general rule. Especially when there are seven of them.”
I file the information in the back of my head for later, but I don’t understand her reference. “Didn’t you ever see Gremlins?”
A cough from behind breaks the bubble that’s been building around us. The line in front of us has moved on—Liam, Emma, and their friends standing off to the side with buckets of popcorn and giant sodas in hand.
We step up to the counter and I order a small soda and popcorn for myself before turning to Frankie, who orders a small soda and a box of Swedish Fish. While we wait for the kid behind the counter to get our order, she shrugs and says something so quietly I can’t hear it.
I lean close. “What was that?”
Her sigh tickles my cheek before she speaks again. “I said, I’ve never seen it.”
“But it’s a classic. How have you never seen it?”
“Apparently, when I was a baby, my oldest brother got a beat up copy of the VHS at a garage sale. He and my sister were obsessed with it. They got in trouble for gluing fake fur to me to make me into one for Halloween. My dad declared the movie was ‘from the devil’ and banned it from the house.”
The difference in our lives hits me like a ton of bricks. She curses like a sailor, apparently loves horror movies, and hangs out with Lauren and Sophie—it never occurred to me she grew up sheltered. What else did she grow up sheltered from?
Frankie ducks past me, heading down the corridor after the kids, hugging her candy and soda to her chest.
I trail behind the group as they make their way into the theater, Liam and Emma tucked neatly away from parental eyes in the center of the group. Yesterday, when Liam had asked if we could meet some of his friends to see the movie, I’d expected two, maybe three tops. When he greeted a group of almost ten boys and girls, I realized I’d been duped.
I finally catch up to Frankie at the bottom of the stairs inside the theater. She squeaks when I lean down to speak in her ear. “How about there?” I jerk my chin toward the two empty seats on the end of the row, two back from where the kids are sitting.
“You want to sit on the end?” Frankie turns to me, disbelief on her face. She’s a step above me, so her lips are inches from mine, catching us both by surprise. I get a whiff of her coffee and soap scent. “What about up there?”
Farther up is a row that’s almost completely empty, including the center seats. “But what if I get scared and need to run away?” I tease.
Frankie scowls at me. “You? Big, scary Julian? Needing to run away from a silly movie? Yeah, right.” She hip checks me before striding up the stairs to the seats she was eyeing.
She slips between the rows, neatly stepping over the legs of the couple on one side. I follow slowly, turning my body sideways to avoid banging into the couple as best I can. I still end up hitting my knee against the other dude’s, and I’m pretty sure I stepped on his date’s toes, but they look too scared of me to say anything. I murmur apologies and settle into the seat next to Frankie.
I twist my shoulders, trying to get comfortable, but the armrest between us digs into my hip. Big, scary Julian who can’t fit in a normal sized seat. That was the real reason I wanted to sit in an aisle seat. Frankie sits back in her chair, puffy jacket laid across her lap like a blanket, her beanie sticking out of the pocket.
“Can you even see over that guy’s head?” I blurt out the question before I think better of it. She’s so tiny, I can’t help myself.
In slow motion, Frankie turns her head toward me. It has to be my imagination, but her gaze is feather light as it drags from my feet, hidden under the seat in front of us, along my thigh and up my body to my face. She takes in the way I barely fit in the seat, the arm rest digging into my side. Her lips pull apart, and I brace myself for a snarky comment about how at least no one is trying to see over my big ass self. Instead, she silently pulls the arm rest up and scoots away.
She made extra space for me.
I don’t know if I should be mad or touched.
Once she settles again, she turns a timid smile on me. “I can see fine. Are you comfortable? I can scoot over some more.”
I rest a hand on her knee before she can move. “I’m good. Thanks.” I’m saved from the unfamiliar lump in my throat by the lights dimming and the previews starting.
