Page 42 of British Daddy to Go

“Oh, they won’t. They don’t come to the movies.”

That’s not exactly what I meant, but I’ll take it. “Right, because they don’t want to be subjected to the sex and violence.”

She nods. “Also, they’re very frugal. When I got old enough to make friends and want to go out, I would beg them to allow me to go on trips to the movies. There are some films they’re not totally against. Usually the ones that are rated G.”

This makes me chuckle. I can imagine a thirteen-year-old Maggie on her knees asking to see the newest Disney animation. “How did that work out?”

“They almost never let me go. The few times they did, they came with me. But usually, the answer was to go out and rent a movie for us to watch at home. Why go out and spend ten dollars a person, plus the cost of snacks, when we can just rent a movie for five dollars and watch it in the comfort of our own home?”

“Did you have a lot of movie nights, then?”

Maggie rolls her eyes. “More than I’d care to remember. I’ve seen every children’s movie released in the last two decades. Plus, every religious movie in the same time period. My parents love renting movies about people just like them.”

If my parents were to rent movies about themselves, what would the plot be? I’d guess it would revolve around money, and there would be plenty of drama. My mother would star in it because she couldn’t handle it any other way.

What a thought! I sure hope they never end up with a film about them. Even worse would be a reality show! I’d have to disown my parents, for sure.

“I’m glad to subject you to crassness and deviance, then,” I say with an exaggerated bow. Maggie giggles and takes my outstretched arm. “Let the debauchery commence!”

We find our seats quickly in the dim theater. The previews have only just begun, but they’re my favorite part. I have a habit of seeing previews for movies I’ll certainly enjoy but forgetting all about them once the movie is over. Months later, I wind up in the theater for one of the previewed movies, only to repeat the cycle again. It’s a fun game I like to play with myself!

“That one looks good,” Maggie whispers when the first preview is finished. “I love horror movies. Just don’t tell my parents!”

“My lips are sealed,” I assure her. “I love horror as well. Perhaps our next movie-related outing should be to a scary movie.”

“I would love that. You could protect me during the extra scary parts!”

That’s precisely why I want her next to me during a horror movie. There’s something special about wrapping a girl in your arms to keep out the villains on the screen. I want to be a hero for Maggie. She makes me want to protect her from the villains in her real life – her parents – and push her to fulfill her dream so that she doesn’t waste her precious life doing what others want her to do.

“Mom would think that one is shameful,” Maggie says after a preview for a romantic film. “That couple isn’t married, and they’re definitely going to have sex!”

She keeps her voice low, like she’s embarrassed of her upbringing. “Your parents are stuck in the past. Pre-marital sex isn’t shameful.”

I hope Maggie doesn’t feel that it is! Is it possibleshefeels shame over what we’ve done?

“Maggie, you don’t regret our dressing room episodes, do you?”

This is hardly the time or the place to be having such an important conversation, but I won’t be able to focus on the film if I don’t hear her answer.

Maggie takes my hand and squeezes it in hers. “Not even a little bit,” she promises. “I’ve enjoyed everything we’ve done together. I may have been raised by my parents, but I’m not them. I’m not stuck in the past like they are.”

Thank goodness. I pull her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles. “I have thoroughly enjoyed our time together, Maggie,” I say, lowering my voice to a soft growl. “I look forward to spending much more time with you.”

Even in the darkness of the theater, I can tell her cheeks are flushed with embarrassment and desire.

If she were anyone else, I might have tried something right here while the movie began around us, but Maggie is too special for a public theater hookup. Our dressing room romps may have been sordid, but at least they were private.

To avoid temptation, I lay my arm over the back of her seat. Maggie lays her head against my shoulder and curls into me. Maybe her parents are onto something with their insistence on watching movies at home. Cuddling is a lot more comfortable on a couch without a hard plastic armrest between you.

We make it work, though. By the end of the movie, my right arm is asleep, and I’m almost certain the armrest has ruptured my appendix, but having Maggie pressed up against my side for two hours was worth the pain.

“That was so funny!” Maggie says when we emerge from the theater. “I’m glad you chose the comedy.”

“I am as well,” I tell her. “I haven’t laughed that much at a movie in a long time.”

I take her hand in mine and lead her to the front of the cinema, where Stefan is to meet us in a few minutes.

While we wait by the curb, Maggie bites her lip nervously.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

She nods. “Yeah, sorry, just deep in thought. There’s… well, there’s something I have to tell you.”

Her eyes are clouded with worry. People think “we need to talk” is the worst phrase for a relationship, and I agree. It never ends well when your partner has something to tell you.

I brace myself for whatever Maggie has to say and cross my fingers she isn’t breaking up with me so early in our relationship. We may have only known each other for a couple of weeks now, but I’ve fallen hard for her already.

I’m not ready to let her go.