Page 32 of Unforgettable Player

When Scout screeches to a stop outside the theatre, Gabe’s standing outside, waiting for me.

“Aww, look at that,” she says. “He’s checking his watch, all nervous and everything.”

My heart sinks. Why am I such a bad person? Gabe is lovely, and he likes me, and all I can think about is some other guy. I square my shoulders, try to put Connor out of my head. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Or, well, you can if you want.”

She winks before kicking me out of the car. I stand for a second, listening to her speed off.

Gabe looks up and spots me, a big smile spreading across his face. “Hi, you look great.”

“Thanks. You, too.”

He’s wearing another band t-shirt. This one is a Sonic Youth Goo album cover. I think about Connor calling him pretentious and shake it off. Connor doesn’t even know the guy. He was just jealous. Jealous. Connor Ryan was jealous because another guy is interested in me.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Shall we go in?”

When Gabe gets his wallet out to pay for the tickets, I try to stop him. I already feel guilty enough.

“No, I asked you out. I want to pay. Relax, I’ve got it.”

“Thank you,” I mumble.

“This movie has really great reviews,” he says while we wait in line. “Have you seen the trailer?”

“Honestly, I don’t keep up with new movie releases much.”

“Oh?”

He asks for two tickets to see something called Die My Love. I hope it’s a cheesy slasher. They're always fun on a first date.

Gabe thanks the person at the counter and hands me my ticket. “What kind of movies do you usually watch?”

“Me and Scout usually just watch old movies. Like cheesy ones that are so bad, they’re good.”

“So, not like Casablanca old?”

“No, we watch stuff like that, too. But I mean more like Burlesque.”

“Burlesque? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that one.”

“Are you kidding?”

He laughs and shakes his head. We walk across the dated carpet of the old Cinemark to get our drinks and popcorn as we talk. For a second, it feels natural and I’m able to forget all about everything else and just be on a first date with a cute guy.

“Who’s in it?” he asks.

“Cher and Christina Aguilera.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Oh God, do they sing?”

My heart sinks. “Yes, of course they sing.” I try for jokey, but my tone comes out sharper and more defensive than I’d intended. How dare he wrinkle his nose at Cher and Christina? I love a cool New Wave band as much as the next guy, but those two ladies can belt out a show tune like nobody’s business.

“Huh. And you said it’s so bad, it’s good?”

I instinctively bristle. Now he’s insulted Cher. “Well, actually, Burlesque is more of an under-appreciated modern classic. Showgirls is so bad, it’s almost good.”