"Ditto."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"But your sister—"
"Refuses to stop."
"Still."
"No still. I know the person you are now. That's what matters to me. If you need a shoulder to cry on, I'm here. If you want to talk, I'm here. But you don't have to tell me anything. Fuck knows there's plenty of shit I'd rather forget."
"You're sure about this?"
He nods. "Maybe you did awful shit. Maybe you killed someone. I don't care. I'll say it as many times as I have to, Iris. The past is the past. Whatever you did doesn't matter. I still like you."
"What if I killed one of your friends?"
"You've met all my friends. They're still alive."
"What if I go out and kill Dean?"
He chuckles. "I've wanted to plenty of times."
"But you'd be okay with that?"
"No, killing my best friend is a deal breaker."
"Damn. There go my plans for the weekend."
"No offense, Iris, but he'd crush you like that—" He snaps his fingers.
"In hand-to-hand fight, yeah, but not if I sneak up on him with a gun."
"This plan is too coherent."
"I'm a nerd, remember?"
"Yeah, you are." He slides his arms around me, blanket and all, and pulls me onto his lap. His eyes go to the TV. "You have a favorite movie?"
"That's a complicated question."
He chuckles. "Is it?"
"Yes." I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. It's lighter. Less of a struggle. I believe him. I believe the past is the past. I believe he's okay leaving it behind.
"How about a comfort food movie?"
"You'll laugh."
"There's no way I'll laugh."
"Wanna bet?"
He nods. "Name your terms."
"Loser makes coffee in the morning."
He chuckles. "There's no way you get up before me to make coffee."
"I have class at nine."
"I have an appointment at ten."
"Ten is after nine."
"I have to prep." He presses his forehead to mine. "But, sure, I'll take that bet."
"Star Wars."
He laughs. "Fuck, you got me."
"I told you."
"I'm only laughing 'cause you're so insecure about it." He looks up at me with a smile.
"I'm not a built sex god. I was an awkward kid. It took a long time for me to grow into my nose."
"I love your nose."
"It's a little long."
"It suits you."
"Like the Wicked Witch of the West?"
"Like Jennifer Grey. Pre nose job."
Now, I'm the one laughing. "How old are you again?"
"Dirty Dancing is a classic. Bree's favorite."
"What's yours?"
"Of eighties romances?"
I nod.
"Say Anything."
"You wanted to be the sensitive artist holding a boom box outside some woman's window?"
Walker laughs. "No. And you're misrepresenting the film."
"Am I?"
He nods. "She hates the boom box thing. It doesn't help win her back."
That's true, actually. "It's hard to believe you ever enjoyed a romance."
"'Cause I'm a guy?"
"No. Because you were very… anti-commitment."
He chuckles. "That's a nice euphemism for slut."
"I try."
"I was different when I was a kid. Love seemed like a good thing. Something that would make you warm, not stab you in the back."
"And now?"
"Fuck. I don't know." His eyes meet mine. "Probably shouldn't tell my girlfriend I'm not sure how I feel about love."
"Still no game."
He pulls me closer. "I'm pathetic."
"You really are."
"You're convincing me."
I press my lips together. "I'm convincing you?"
"That trusting someone isn't the stupidest thing in the world."
"And if it is?"
"Then I'm about where I started." He reaches for the remote and turns on the TV. "This is really fucking tragic, sweetness, but I'm gonna have to ask you to move."
"Oh." I slide off his lap.
He leans in to brush his lips against mine then he gets up, goes to my bookshelf, pulls out my Star Wars DVD set. "You want to start with Episode Four?"
"Of course." I watch him bend to slide the disc into the DVD player. He really has a fantastic ass. A fantastic everything.
I'm making him believe in trust.
In love.
I…
He's said it a lot now. The past doesn't matter.
I have to believe him. I can't stomach believing anything else.
He turns back to me with that million-dollar smile. "Why's Star Wars comfort food?"
"My dad loves it." I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. I had a good childhood, but it's all bittersweet with the distance between me and Lily. "They re-released Star Wars theatrically when I was a kid. A tiny kid. Three or four. My dad took me and Lily."
"Your mom wasn't into it?"
"No. She's not a movie person. She's more into books. Nonfiction."
"What's she do?"
"She teaches middle school science."
"And your dad makes bank doing special effects?"
"Yeah. Usually. It's not the most stable industry. But we were never lacking growing up. I guess we have that in common. Running from privilege."
"To Brentwood and Santa Monica."
I laugh. He has a point. We're in two of the most expensive cities in Los Angeles. We aren't exactly slumming it. "Lily fell in love with the movies right away. I always wanted to be like my big sister. So, I said I loved them too. We'd watch them every weekend. And we'd play Star Wars. She'd be Luke and I'd be Leia and my dad would be Han, which I guess is kind of weird now that I think about it."
He laughs. "Freudian."
"He's widely discredited. But his work was the basis for huge chunks of psychology. So…"
"That why he's your Instagram handle?"
I nod. "It was going to be Freudian Nip Slip, but I didn't think anyone would get it."
He laughs. "It suits you."
"Thanks."
He slides onto the couch next to me.
I swallow hard. "We had so much fun pretending to go on adventures. And just watching the movies. Once I got older, I started to see more in them. It's like your tattoo, Luke on Tatooine, looking at the moons, wanting more. Star Wars has always felt like the promise of more. Of friendship and adventure and purpose. When I watch it, I feel like I can have all that. Even when I can't."
"You think you can't now?"
"Sometimes. But not the way I used to. More like… I'm growing up and I realize I have to make compromises."