Almost Perfect - Brian Katcher [11]
The premovie commercials ended. Sage put her feet down and placed her hand on our shared armrest. She elbowed me in the ribs. Then harder. Then she flopped halfway into my seat, crushing me against Jack. When she finally settled down, the side of her hand was pressed against mine.
I ignored the movie as I enjoyed the physical contact. Should I try to put my arm around her? I decided to play it safe and wait.
It happened about halfway through the film. We’d been swapping boxes of Milk Duds, gummi things, and Dots the whole time. I went to take the Junior Mints from Sage, and her hand was empty. My hand in her hand. I didn’t pull back.
Slowly, imperceptibly, her long fingers wound around mine. We sat unmoving for half a minute. It was no first base, but at least I was out of the dugout.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Sage staring at the screen, her eyes large and white in the dark. Apparently, this was the first time she’d held hands with anyone. She looked almost terrified. I took a risk and squeezed her hand.
A bright scene projected on the screen, and in the light I could clearly make out her expression. She had such an innocent, frightened smile that I wanted to grab her and hug her. And not just because she was cute. Because at that moment, even though I barely knew her, I really liked her a lot.
Sage bit her lower lip and tilted her head down, still keeping her eyes off me. We both leaned closer. And then some more.
The movie changed to a night scene, and I could no longer see her face. Impetuously, I moved forward.
It’s embarrassing to try to kiss a girl only to have her lean back. Brenda used to do that to me all the time, even when we’d been dating for years.
It’s downright humiliating when your date forcibly shoves your head away.
It wasn’t a playful shove, or a Back off, Don Juan rejection. Sage pushed me so hard my neck kind of hurt.
Ashamed and upset, I tried to think of a way to quietly apologize. Sage was sitting there glowering at the film, her arms crossed and her leg jiggling. Damn, I’d totally misread her. When she had let me hold her hand, I thought she was encouraging me.
I waited a miserable forty-five minutes for the movie to end, wondering whether I should say I was sorry or just not mention the incident. With Tim and Jack hanging around, apologizing wouldn’t be easy. But I didn’t want Sage to think I was just after one thing. After three years with Brenda, I was used to a chaste existence.
The second the credits started rolling, Sage jumped up. She rushed to the exit so quickly she bopped Jack on the head with her huge purse. It took me longer to escape from the row, but my years of running paid off, and I caught up with her in the lobby.
“Sage?”
She didn’t turn around. “Thanks for the movie, Logan,” she said in a monotone.
I didn’t follow her into the parking lot.
I got home around midnight, annoyed and confused. Why did Sage have to get so upset when I tried to kiss her? I didn’t totally buy that story about her parents not letting her date. What kind of senior puts up with that? Maybe I’d gone a little overboard, but was I really that out of line? I didn’t have enough experience to be sure.
Mom was asleep on the couch, a muted infomercial casting the only light in the trailer. After I turned on the light and said good night to Mom, I vanished into my room and pulled a cardboard box out from under my bed. When I had realized it was over over with Brenda, I’d grabbed all her pictures, all her letters, and crammed them in here. I had planned to burn them in the backyard when Mom was at work. Instead, I kept them under my bed, looking at them more often than I wanted to admit.
The tickets to every school dance we’d gone to. The movie stubs from one of our first dates. The purple-inked love letters she’d left in my locker. And the pictures.