Page 99 of Fade into You

He squints at me—at my reaction to him, I guess—and cocks his head slightly. “What? Expecting someone else?”

“Sorry. No, I— Forget it. Hi!”

I step aside so he can come in, and he looks all around like he’s forgotten what this room looked like. “I can’t remember the last time it was this quiet here,” he says as he sits down on Liv’s bed. “It’s kinda freaking me out.”

“Well, it’ll be loud soon enough. Mom and Daniel should be home any minute with the sibs.”

“Yeah? And what about Liv?”

“Who cares?”

“Going that well between the two of you, huh?” He gives me a knowing smile, glancing down at the duct tape—our own little Berlin Wall.

“Yeah, it’s going fucking great,” I say. It occurs to me, as I watch his eyes widen for a split second and his mouth twitches in amusement, that I’ve never really talked like this around him.

“Fuckinggreat,” he repeats. “Okay. Got it.” He’s trying to get me to laugh or loosen up, but I just can’t. “Hey, how ’bout we get outta here before they all get home. Hang out, just the two of us… like old times?”

I nod. “That’s sounds great.”

“Notfuckinggreat?” he asks, standing up from the bed.

“Sounds fucking great, Charlie.”

We end up at the dollar-fifty theater. It reminds me of Jessa, but at least it makes me feel connected to her. We stand at the front of the theater, looking at the movie times. I vetoedThe Sixth SenseandThe Blair Witch Project, still up from Halloween.

“Just the commercials gave me nightmares,” I tell him. “No scary movies.”

“Fight Club?”

“Ugh.”

“Office Space?”

“I already saw that. Besides, no comedies,” I add. “I’m not in a laughing mood.”

“Really?” he says. “Couldn’t tell.”

He vetoesGirl, InterruptedandCruel Intentions.

“I could totally seeThe Matrixagain, though,” he says, and I think that’s the closest we’re coming to a compromise.

“I guess,” I tell him with a half shrug. “I’ve never seen it.”

“What?” he shouts, his voice echoing in the empty vestibule. “Are you serious? How?”

“I was busy when it came out in the spring.”

He walks up to the ticket booth, the girl behind the glass clearly bored watching our selection process unfold. “Two forThe Matrixat seven fifteen,” he tells her, sliding three dollars into the slot at the bottom of the glass panel.

“This movie is life-changing, Birdie. The special effects: ab-so-lute-ly kill-er,” he says, emphasizing each syllable separately. “But also, it’s like, deep. Brainy. I know you’re not into action or sci-fi, but trust me. Trust me. You’re gonna love it,” he tells me in the concession-stand line.

“Okay.”

“?‘Okay’?” he deadpans, perfectly imitating my lackluster response. “That’s all you’re giving me is ‘okay’? Come on,” he grumbles, shaking my shoulders.

“Okay!” I say like Liv, when she’s practicing her stupid cheers.Ready? Okay!echoes in my head.

“All right, that’s the spirit.” He orders a box of Sno-Caps, remembering, sweetly, that I once said they only taste right in dark theaters, balanced by the complementary flavors of butter and spicy fake cheese dip. So he also orders a giant popcorn with butter and nachos with extra jalapeños, and two extra-large root beers because he knows all my favorite things.