“I’m not sitting through that!” Luna exclaimed, coming down from her initial euphoria.
“Even if it’s on top of me? Bareback?” Knight grinned, hooking his muscular bicep around her neck. Luna swatted his arm and laughed.
We made our way into the theater. An array of dishes—salads, pastas, and casseroles—were waiting outside in the lobby, complete with a makeshift dining area. We ate quickly, then went into the theater. There were two theater staff present. They dimmed the lights, put on the first movie—Dirty Harry—and made themselves scarce. We were seated in the front row of the upper level, in complete darkness, on plush seats. Knight and Hunter crossed their long legs at the ankles on the railings, with Knight putting Luna’s hand over his hard thigh, stroking it lovingly. Hunter and I didn’t touch, even though we sat right next to each other.
I couldn’t concentrate on the first two movies—Dirty Harry and Top Gun. All I could do was mull over how much it bothered me that Hunter hadn’t shown me any special treatment, or any treatment at all, for that matter. How hard was it going to be to face reality when our contract was up?
Over the weeks we’d slept together and listened to Sylvester Lewis’ tapes wrapped around each other with our AirPods, I’d willed myself to imagine Hunter walking away from me, saying goodbye one last time. I did it over and over again. I hoped the pain would subside with time—the more I envisioned it and the more I practiced.
It never did.
By the time Fight Club started, Luna and Knight had given up pretending they were watching the movies. They were fooling around, Luna straddling Knight on his seat. They made noises. Moans and groans and wet kisses. Their teeth collided, fabric shuffled. I couldn’t even decipher whether it was Brad Pitt or Edward Norton on the screen. I glanced at Hunter, who was sandwiched between me on one side, and Knight and Luna on the other. His eyes were dead on the screen as he poured a bag of M&M’s into his bucket of popcorn, skillfully balancing the huge thing on his knee.
I returned my gaze to the movie, my pinky on the armrest between us twitching, touching his briefly.
Touch me, fool.
He pulled away from my touch to scrub his stubbled jaw. The small, unrequited gesture felt like whiplash. My need to break over that one, silly rejection overwhelmed me. I felt like I’d lost him unexpectedly and prematurely, ahead of time.
If only you’d practiced imagining him kicking you out a hundred more times, huh? a sarcastic voice inside me taunted.
“Have you watched Fight Club before?” I cleared my throat.
“Is this a joke? Do birds fly?” He threw a handful of M&M’s and popcorn into his mouth, chewing.
“Depends on the bird. Ostriches don’t.”
He turned to look at me. I could see him in my periphery, frowning, like I belonged in a mental institution.
Kiss me.
Claim me.
Show them I’m more than just the sitter.
Instead of voicing my dark, erotic, pathetic thoughts, I yawned and stood up, stretching.
“Restroom break. Will be back soon.”
“Now? Shit’s just about to go down.” Hunter’s eyes widened.
I chose the longer path, past the empty seats that weren’t occupied by Knight, Luna, and Hunter as an escape route.
“I saw Brad Pitt topless. That was the height of the movie for me. It can only go downhill from here,” I muttered to myself.
I slipped downstairs to the restroom. I didn’t need to pee, but I took the time to freshen up, wash my face, and stare at myself in the mirror. I wore a gray, off-shoulder dress and my checked Vans, paired with a denim jacket. Still comfortable, but not complete dudebro attire. Smoothing my orange hair with my fingers, I left the restroom. The idea of returning upstairs and facing more of Knight and Luna’s love, and Hunter’s aloofness, made me nearly violent. Besides, the place was allegedly haunted. There was so much to see.
I decided to take a stroll along the hallway. It was old and imperial, with dozens of golden lights glittering like diamonds everywhere you looked. Brown marble columns rose from the floor like trees. I stepped into the first floor of the auditorium, under the deck, where Hunter and his friends couldn’t see me. The arched ceiling and detailed decorations did something to my heart I couldn’t explain. It squeezed in pride—pride that I was a part of this city, a small part of this place’s history. I’ve been here, I thought. In a hundred years, or maybe two, when I’m long gone, someone else would see all this.
But now it was my turn to bask in this magic.
I ambled toward the stage, moving in the shadows, invisible to the rest of them. A quick glimpse upstairs confirmed that Knight and Luna were not in a condition to see anything. It looked like they were having sex under the slip of fabric from Luna’s flowery dress. She moved like a wave on top of Knight. Hunter’s eyes were still on the movie, cold and full of ire. I stumbled backstage, behind the screen, gliding my hand over every piece of furniture and prop. I guessed The Nutcracker was playing, because the stage equipment included white-and-red-striped swirly columns, an aeronautic balloon, and a Christmas tree. My hand halted on a simple wooden chair with a gown draped over it. I lifted the fabric and put it to my nose, breathing it in.
It smelled of sweat, polyester, and hairspray. I squeezed my eyes closed, knowing the movie playing on the giant screen hid me. I was completely protected.
Putting the gown back where it was, I picked up a piece of wrinkled paper on the seat that looked like it’d been read to death—a song, I realized.
His love was like the sun.
Even when it wasn’t there,
It didn’t mean it ceased to exist.
And even when his rays did not warm her skin.
He kept her universe alive.
And even when the night engulfed her in loneliness, when winter wrestled him out of her life.
She knew he would come back.
He always did.
Long after they said goodbye.
I clutched the paper to my chest. Bowing my head, I pressed my lips to the lyrics. God, what was happening to me?
I felt the paper snatched from my hands. My eyes popped open, and when I looked up, I saw Hunter, his eyes dead on mine.
I was the first one to break our gaze as I watched his fist clenching the paper, destroying it. I smiled sadly at the irony. Did that mean I was coming to terms with our fate? With our impending goodbye?
Hunter threw the balled paper behind his shoulder, erasing all the distance between us with one step. He was still in his work attire, pale gray suit with a silky, wine-red tie. He tilted my chin up with one finger. I slapped his hand away. I was irrationally angry with him and too scared to admit why, even to myself.
Because I wasn’t content with being just the babysitter he slept with to let off steam.
Because I expected more than being treated like an acquaintance.
Because I wanted us to have what Knight and Luna had.
He raised one eyebrow in question.
I turned around and walked away. I was almost at the stairs when Hunter wrapped his fingers around my wrist and pulled me behind the burgundy-velvet curtain that felt heavy and thick as it shielded us from sight.
He nuzzled his nose against my face, inhaling me with a shudder.
“When you’re like that, you make me want to fuck the defiance out of you, aingeal dian.”
For all the times I’d asked him what my nickname meant, I’d never had the courage to Google it and find out myself. I still hoped he’d voluntarily tell me before our time was up. Plus, I liked the mystery. I knew I was probably going to look it up as soon as we parted ways. I was bound to obsess over every little detail once he was gone. Which reminded me—I needed to start looking for apartments, since my parents had repurposed my old bedroom. Another thing I’d postponed.