I might also have spent more time than I normally do on my look.
And Zach isn’t even here.
I’m hovering at the New Releases section, scanning the aisles, when Mr. Laird walks out of the breakroom and pastme.
“Hi, Addie! You smell lovely!”Crap.I flush at Mr. Laird’s comment. My mom is forever telling me to spray only on the pulse points, but (blame the influence of Katy) all over just seems more effective. That is, if I’m trying to attract forty-five-year-old men.
“Thanks, Mr. Laird,” I say, hoping to God that Zach is not somewhere nearby overhearing this conversation.
“Is Zach in the storeroom?” That’s where he said he’d be if he wasn’t at the counter.
“No, he’s out back,” his father says, frowning at a movie poster and trying to make sure it’s straight. He suddenly turns to me. “You march right back in here and tell me if you see him smoking, do you understand?”
“Um, okay,” I say, not sure how I feel about ratting Zach out, but glad it seems Mr. Laird is giving me permission to go through the back door of the movie store to “out back.” Also, Zach smokes?
Still holding on to the DVD, I head back through a small, dark room that seems to be mostly storage and find Zach outside. He jumps a full foot when I shut the door. And then he smiles, relieved it’s just me and, I think, happy it’s me.
“Hi, Zach,” I say, then shut my eyes.
“Hi?” His voice ticks up at the end, a question.
“You’re wondering why I’m shutting my eyes.”
“Yes?” Another question.
“Your father said that if I found you smoking I was to—and I quote—march right back in there and tell him.” Zach laughs, and I feel myself grinning, stupid, eyes closed. “I have not seen you smoking.”
“You will not see me smoking,” he says, moving around me, presumably putting the cigarette out, and then stopping in front of me. I sense him close to me, sense his cigarette-y breath. “You may open your eyes.”
I do and am blinded by his hundred-watt smile.
“Last one,” I say, holding up the DVD case before I forgetallmy thoughts.
“And?” Zach holds the door open for me, then pauses to pull a pack of mints out of his pocket. He offers me one but I shake my head, wondering how much he has thought about the condition of my mouth. Or rather, if he has thought about the condition of my mouth as much as I have considered the thought of his.
“I’m ranking it betweenThe Mask of FallingandVolvo Lost.The ending just didn’t hold up.”
“Hmm,” he says thoughtfully. “Even with Beppe coming back?”
“Especiallywith Beppe coming back.”
“Hmm,” he says again, looking at the floor, as we head toward the Horror section. I think for a second that he’s trying to figure out what to recommend for me next, but instead he glances up at me. “I have something to ask you.”
My heart skips one, two, three beats. What Katy calls a Cardiac Event.
Is he going to ask me out?
“What is it?” I ask, and it’s only as I’m whispering it back that I realize that Zach whispered first.
“I don’t think,” he says quietly but not quite whispering. “I don’t think I ever told you that I’m, um”—he seems embarrassed—“an aspiring filmmaker.”
I stare blankly at him. Okay, so maybe heisn’tasking meout.
“God, that sounds pretentious. But I am.”
A second of silence passes before I offer, “Like Ciano?”
His fanaticism makes complete sense now.
