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Relief floods through me. “Thank you.”
There are at least five feet between us, and this is the first time I’ve ever wished it was less. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I have an overwhelming desire for him to wrap his arms around me again.
I don’t dare move. I stand as still as possible, barely breathing.
“Why don’t we get out of here?” he says.
I wipe my face with the back of my sleeves. My lips turn up ever so slightly.
Caleb’s poor shirt is wrinkled with black splotches on it.
“What?” he asks.
“You might want to change,” I say.
He looks down and chuckles. “Oh. Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” He turns to walk away.
“Wait, where are we going?”
He looks over his shoulder and smiles. “We’re going to watch the movie you wanted to see.”
* * *
The theater is almost empty.This movie isn’t exactly a blockbuster anymore, but I don’t mind. I hate being stuck next to random strangers who’ll most likely talk through the whole thing. I’d never be found at a premiere.
“This is for you,” Caleb says, handing me a cherry soda. Then, he sets a large tub of popcorn between us. He insisted on getting the largest tub they had. I didn't argue because I haven’t had dinner.
“Do you know the right way to eat popcorn?” he asks while we wait for the movie to start.
“Doesn’t everyone? You put it in your mouth. It’s not rocket science.”
He grimaces. “Wrong, and I have to be honest, I expected you of all people to know the right way. Especially after the whole chips in your sandwich thing.” He sets the tub between us on the armrest that divides our seats.
“Hey, the chips make the sandwich ten times better.”
“I’m not arguing. I’m just saying I thought you’d know how to eat popcorn.”
I raise an eyebrow. “So then, what’s the right way?”
He pulls out the boxes of candy he bought earlier. “You have to mix in chocolate.”
“Since when did that become a thing?” I ask.
“Since forever, but I guess only some of us were blessed with the knowledge of how to make superior popcorn. Obviously.”
“And who taught you that?”
He pauses, and the glint in his eyes fades. “My dad.”
I cringe. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind talking about him. Especially, when it reminds me of the good times we had together.” He smiles, scattering the chocolate pieces over the popcorn. Then, he sets the box down and stares at his hands. “These are the kind of things I want people to remember him for.”
“Does it ever get easier?” I ask, my voice timid.
He takes in a breath and lets it out slowly, letting the wheels turn in his mind. “Have you ever heard about the ball in the box?”
I shake my head.
