Lori Wilde - It Happened in L.A.

The mere thought of it made her blush. But after that kiss, she couldn’t discard the whole notion, could she?

Would it be so horrible to make love to Paul?

She turned over, sticking her left hand under her pillow, knowing she hadn’t asked the right question. The one that really mattered.

Would she be too self-conscious to make love to Paul?

God, she wanted it not to matter. She hated shallowness so much, and yet she couldn’t deny that him being so much better-looking had an impact.

All these years, when she’d said looks didn’t matter, had she been telling the truth?

She sighed, wishing none of this had happened. Wishing Autumn had never sent him to take her to the party. Wishing…

Wishing she could stop thinking, and just kiss him one more time.

GWEN WAITED outside the little theater, her hands in her sweater pockets, wondering if this evening was a good idea. Paul would be there any minute, and she would prefer to have her game face on by then. If she could decide what her game was.

The Rialto was playing a double bill of Japanese horror. Ju-on and Ringu. The perfect safe meeting space for two potential friends.

Only, there was the whole after to deal with. It was always better if there were beverages and discussions following favorite films. That seemed safe, but Gwen knew that once the conversation wound down, Paul would walk her to her car. He just would. And that was the moment she was so troubled about.

In the three days since he’d been to her house, they’d spoken on the phone five times. The first, he’d asked her for the name and author of another book she’d mentioned. The second, he’d called about the softball team, and found out that he couldn’t play until next Wednesday. The third, he’d started with a question about the book, then admitted he just wanted to talk. That call had lasted one hour and twenty-two minutes.

Today he’d called twice. Once to ask her if she’d like to see the movies, and again to ask her if he should pick her up. She’d had that answer on the ready.

She enjoyed him on the phone. Startling, because she really wasn’t much of a phone person. Holly knew that. Their calls were brief and to the point. If either of them needed to really talk, they got together. It was great.

In fact, all of her friends knew about her phone habits. Only, Paul had made her change the rules. Being on the phone with him was easy. Not in the least simple, but easy.

Every time her phone rang, even at work, her heart sped. Whatever thoughts she’d had vanished and it was all she could do not to leap to answer the damn thing. The thing was, she wasn’t like this. Never had been. Even in the worst of her teen angst, she hadn’t been like the other girls who couldn’t seem to manage a single thought outside of their past, present or future boy-friends. Gwen hadn’t understood it then, and she sure as hell didn’t understand it now. It was weird. A little bit wonderful. But troubling, too.

“Hey, you look worried. Did you think I’d be late?”

She turned to look up at Paul and her smile came without a thought. So did the flutters plaguing her so often these days. “No, I was just thinking about stuff.”

“Dangerous occupation. It always gets me into trouble.”

“We’ve got just enough time to get popcorn and good seats.”

He glanced at his watch, some terribly expensive army-looking thing. “Half an hour.”

“I said good seats.” She took out two tickets from her pocket. “See? I knew you’d be here on time.”

“I was going to get those.”

“You may buy the popcorn, which I assure you will be more expensive. I love my popcorn.”

“A giant tub?”

“For me, yes. You may get what you like.”

He laughed. “A giant soda to go along?”

She handed the tickets over to the nice man at the door. “Nope. Medium, diet. With the popcorn, make sure they put the butter on halfway through, then again at the end. No skimping.”

He touched her back as he escorted her to the candy counter. Just a touch, something one friend would do with another friend, no biggie, and yet it was a biggie, it was giant because she reacted like…She reacted foolishly.

The popcorn saved her. Paul ordered, not even blinking at her request for diet soda. He got himself a large popcorn, no butter. Fool. He clearly didn’t understand movies the way she did.

Inside, the theater was already a quarter full, mostly with teenagers. A few older folks sat in the far corners, but she wanted dead center. So did everyone else, but they ended up with decent enough seats.

Once settled, purse and sweater were put aside, popcorn and napkins on her lap, cup in the holder. It was perfect and she sighed contentedly.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice showing much pleasure. “How many times have you seen these two?”

“Three and two, respectively. I only hope that the film stock is decent. This theater can be hit-and-miss.”

“I got them both on DVD, but I prefer seeing them here. They’re scarier.”

She nodded as she dug into the great bucket of buttery goodness. “I also love the coming attractions. It’s all good.”

“So is the book you gave me.”

“You still like it?”

“No. I like it more. It kept me up too late last night. And tomorrow, I’ve got a showing to go to, and I’m resenting it. I almost called to cancel, but it’s my company, my party. So the book will have to wait.”

“I understand. You should get an audiobook next time. Listen to it in traffic. You’ll get through it faster.”

“Good—” He stopped, when the lights dimmed. “Good,” he said again, but it was an entirely different sentence.

Gwen was terribly aware of him until fifteen minutes into Ju-on. By then, she was wrapped up in the story, anticipating the scary bits. She kept eating her popcorn, pausing just before something bad happened. That was the fun of multiple viewings—no danger of choking.

Then, about ten minutes later, Paul touched her hand. The underside. After a moment’s hesitation, he slipped his fingers between hers.

She hadn’t had anyone hold her hand in a movie in years. If anything, dates had put their arm around her to snuggle. This was infinitely sweeter. She felt like a teenager again—no, younger than that. There was an innocence to his move, a tiny step where nothing else would have worked.

Despite the gasps of fear that filled the theater, the ominous music, she looked at Paul to find him looking at her.

He smiled. Tossed some popcorn in his mouth, then turned back to the screen.

She wasn’t worried about the ending anymore. Not of the movie or of the night. He’d just told her she was safe.

And then with a jolt she realized that wasn’t true at all.

GWEN CLOSED HER FRONT DOOR, dropped her purse and sweater on the table, then flopped onto her couch with a satisfied sigh. She couldn’t have asked for a better night.

They’d held hands for the rest of the movie and for all of the second. Her fingers had been squeezed during the scariest bits and her palm tickled once for no reason at all. They’d gone to a nearby coffee shop after, where he’d had a piece of chocolate cake, which, she pointed out, negated his low-cal popcorn. He’d been unimpressed with her logic as he’d devoured every bite.

If she hadn’t known better, she would have called it a date. But it wasn’t. For heaven’s sake, they were just beginning their friendship and neither had spoken of anything more. Friendships were good. Lovely. And the hand-holding was nothing more than…what? Maybe her definition of friendship might need some refinement.

But it was late and she was foolish. Time to get ready for bed. She didn’t hurry, though. She went into the kitchen to put her breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, her thoughts turning to the end of their night.