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He kept a low profile in the rear of the theater, blending in among the film department faculty. Several of the professors must have recognized him because he found himself at the receiving end of a few absentminded handshakes.
Wagner Theatre roared with conversation as students, staff, dates, family, and members of the community gathered in the 2,000-seat space. The room filled with a steady buzz that multiplied as more people poured through the entrance; it was the kind of environment where it became impossible to hear your own thoughts. Dayton found it exasperating. His mind lacked a silent moment.
Internal monologue lost to the uproarious attendees, he felt like a cymbal-clashing monkey figurine. He was vigilant in his surveying of the crowd, searching for the red-headed woman, reasoning that only she could silence the noise.
And then, as he looked to the entryway, he saw them.
Liam dug in the back pocket of his tight-fitting jeans, fishing for his student ID to present to the ever-patient ticket attendant. Kenna had walked in with her ID ready to go; Dayton could see it clutched in her hand from where he stood.
The sight of her that evening was a true marvel.
She wore a thin black turtleneck and a fitted rust skirt. Her legs glowed against the brown boots she wore.
The longer Dayton focused on her bare legs, the more he fantasized about their texture beneath his fingertips. His knees almost buckled at the simplicity of the erotic imagery but the tassels of jealousy flogged his imprisoned heart and kept him on his feet.
Why hadn’t she ever dressed like that for him?
They descended the aisle together in search of their seats. Liam seized her hand, guiding them through the venue. He’d had enough of this Ingmar Bergman wannabe competing for the affections of his girl, and the night had just begun.
A hush fell over the audience as the lights dimmed and Dayton stood against the back wall of the venue, vowing to remain there until the doomed lovers made their exit.
“Sorry I couldn’t pick you up,” Liam apologized. They were seated in the middle of the theater, waiting for the screenings to begin. “Kinda spoils the charm of the first date.”
“Don’t worry about it. I promise I’m not as traditional as I seem.” Not leaving room for her last phrase to be misconstrued, Kenna continued, “I can’t believe someone slashed all of your tires. You must’ve really pissed them off. Maybe it’s one of the filmmakers you’re up against.”
Liam scrunched his mouth off to one side.
“Nah, I don’t think so. They’re all chill. Whoever did this has serious issues. Maybe they thought it was someone else’s car and I’m the unfortunate victim of their delinquency.”
She knew he was more upset than he was letting on. If she had a car and a stranger took it upon themselves to damage it, she would’ve been in hysterics. Kenna couldn’t exactly empathize since she had never driven a car, much less owned one, but she showed her support by offering her hand. He squeezed it in a silent show of appreciation.
The seats were packed together so closely that whenever they turned to talk to each other, their faces were inches apart under the dim lights of the cavernous room.
“So, what’s your film about?”
He gave a moment's hesitation, searching for something in her subtly made-up features. Permission?
She would not grant it. It was too soon.
“You’ll just have to wait and see. They’re all shorts, obviously. Sorry to let you down if you were on board for 15 features, but that would run much later than 7-9, wouldn’t it?”
“You’re a regular comedian,” Kenna teased. She waved her program around. “I suppose you didn’t anticipate my literacy.”
Liam glanced at her in his peripherals, forming a smug smile while his knee bounced up and down.
A spotlight beamed on center stage. The audience applauded as the geriatric head of the film department, Professor Marlowe, situated himself behind the podium.
As he spoke, the lights dimmed further to compensate for the glaring spotlight. Liam’s hand grazed her thigh and Kenna’s whole body was rendered immobile. She shot him a questioning look and he immediately retracted it but his touch lingered as bumps pebbled her skin. The professor’s voice distorted into static as she inhaled deep breaths through her nose.
It wasn’t that she was opposed to being touched. The last man who’d laid a hand on her had broken her heart.
* * *
Liam turnedto her and whispered, “Mine’s up next.”
While it wasn’t Kenna’s idea of a good time, some of the films had been of admirable quality considering they were produced by students. The climate of their date had improved, too. He kept his hands to himself after she basically threatened to murder him with a singular glower.
She wouldn’t be going home with him and she hoped her vehement dismissal of his wandering fingers had illustrated that point.
