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Cameron edged his elbow onto it.
A few beats passed; the curtains opened, light blared from the giant screen, and Henry settled his arm on the rest between them.
Face aglow with the autumnal colors on screen, he examined Cameron from the corner of his eye.
“Henry,” Cameron whispered.
Georgie tapped his arm, offering a large box of popcorn. “Take some, Cameron.”
Cameron took a handful and leaned into Georgie when she curled a finger. “Dad’s a snorer. Hope your brother will cope.”
Was that an olive branch?
Cameron chuckled. “Brandon’s a talker. Hope your dad will cope.”
Over the aisle, Mr. Tilney nodded, smiling. Such a different impression of the man than Cameron had expected after what Henry had told him.
Then again, his own dad charmed everyone else, too.
Movement and color flickered over their faces, and sound blasted from the speakers. For the first time, he wished for more ads. Trailers for other films. But this was a special screening without, and already their short extra had begun.
The screen barely held his attention. Every other moment, he was glancing at Henry, and for the first few scenes, Henry remained focused on the short.
Was he that engaged with the story?
Henry’s arm twitched against his elbow. This time when Cameron peeked at him, Henry was looking over. No smile, though, and he quickly returned to watching.
Cameron couldn’t relax or find any comfortable position. Couldn’t enjoy the thrill of seeing his hard work on display.
Henry had to know how sincerely sorry he was.
Yes, it was unfortunate timing. Yes, he should be focusing on the films. Yes, he should muster enough cool to wait until intermission—
He leaned into Henry’s space and whispered urgently. “Henry, I’m sorry. Did you get my messages? I left them as soon as I could. I didn’t have my phone, and later, when I got it, it had no battery, and once I got home and plugged it in, I fell asleep. I know yesterday looked bad, but John said he saw you both driving home, and I thought you’d changed your mind about spending time with me.”
Henry’s arm pressed against his, and the tip of his nose bumped Cameron’s glasses as he returned the whisper. “At least I could indulge in two coffees. I hope you enjoyed your trip.”
“Hardly. I begged John to stop the car and let me out, but he sped up at every light until we made it to the highway. If he’d slowed down a second . . .”
A sigh fluttered against Cameron’s jaw. “It’s okay, Cameron. I heard your messages. That’s why I’m here.”
“You did?”
“I didn’t want to look at my phone, but Georgie made me. About an hour ago.”
Behind them, a couple glared, and sheepishly Cameron pulled back. They turned to watch the end of the short, but Cameron still had things to say.
He took out his phone and tapped out a message for Henry to put his on silent.
Cameron: I hope you aren’t too mad.
* * *
Henry: “Come not between the dragon and his wrath!” You have a lot to make up for.
* * *
Cameron: Shakespeare?
* * *
Henry: King Lear.
* * *
Cameron: I am so sorry.
* * *
Henry: Rubbish. I’m having you on. Georgie and I were running late. I understand why you thought we weren’t coming.
* * *
Cameron: You’re not mad? You didn’t look at me as fondly as usual.
* * *
Henry: That has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with Dad being here.
* * *
Cameron: He seemed keen on me sitting here.
* * *
Henry: I have my suspicions why, and it’s nothing to do with our friendship.
* * *
Cameron: He likes that I’m friendly with Georgie.
* * *
Henry: Yes. He seems to like that a lot. Would you pass me Georgie’s popcorn?
* * *
Cameron: Sure.
* * *
Henry: Any time you’re ready. ;-)
Henry, Georgie, and Mr. Tilney left promptly after the films ended to make their dinner reservations. Cameron stayed with Brandon for the Q & A, and then headed home.
Biting a smile, Cameron walked to his gate. After a few exchanged messages, he and Henry had returned to watching the films.
It all ended fine.
So what if Henry guarded his expressions around him? He’d forgiven him, and that’s all he’d hoped for.
Yes, it was fine.
Cameron checked the mailbox and pulled out a few envelopes.
Electricity bill, donation receipt, and a brown-paper envelope addressed to Cameron in a loopy blue scrawl.
Cameron scanned the sender’s name and address, even though he knew.
Lilies bowed in evening breezes, and one bumped against his calf like it was trying to drag him back to reality. But this was too exciting.
The garden color blurred as he stood at the gate, ripping open Henry’s letter.
Three pages! An account of his time at school camp, filled with interesting observations and excruciating detail à la Austen.
He even wrote about looking forward to walking with him and Georgie on Friday, and asked whether he could bring coffee with a shot of vanilla, even if Cameron had already met his weekly quota.
