The Romantics(42)

In the theater, as the playful music and too-bright colors had splashed across the screen, things had felt anything but friendly. Call him crazy, but Gael could have sworn that Cara had come on to him.

A few pieces of evidence supported his hypothesis:

First, when he’d picked her up at her dorm, she’d leaned right across the seats and kissed him on the cheek. It wasn’t the kind of thing you just did to anyone. She wasn’t French. Or even fake French, like Sammy.

Second, unlike at the tiny Varsity Theater, the seats in the theater in nearby Durham were the kind that had the armrest that you could flip up for ultimate make-out access (which he and Anika had done more than once). The arm had been up when they had sat down, but Cara made no move whatsoever to put it back. What’s more, when Gael reached for it, she stopped him, claiming having it down would be too cramped.

Third, in the concession line, she’d suggested they share a large Cherry Coke. Sure, this was economically sound, but it had emotional meaning, too, no? Certainly it did. Gael would never think of sharing a Coke with Mason. The only person he ever shared with had been Anika—and Piper, of course, but she was his sister.

Finally, once the film started, and with each passing minute, Cara had scooted a little bit closer. At the beginning, she was all coy, legs pointed away, chin resting on her hand. But as the film progressed, as the symmetrical, shadow-box sets rolled into drawn-out tracking shots and iconic patterns, Cara kept inching closer and closer. First it was the way her knees were pointed. Then her Birks followed, landing just inches from his Chucks. Then, and he wasn’t even sure how she did it because it’s not like she was getting up and moving around or anything, but all of a sudden, her thigh was brushing his. They were both wearing jeans, so maybe she didn’t notice.

But then again, maybe she did.

Their arms still weren’t touching, and yet they too seemed to be moving closer together, like they had minds of their own.

A chase scene ensued, and Gael wondered how it would go if this were a movie about his life. Where would it begin? With Anika dumping him? Or with him meeting Cara?

Cara, his fun-loving, adorable costar.

Cara, with whom he’d shared a perfect movie Meet Cute.

Christ, he was starting to think in rom-com terms because of Sammy.

He tried to focus. If this were a Wes Anderson movie, how would it go?

Certainly, Wes wouldn’t have him pass up a vivacious, beautiful girl who stole hot sauce and liked to hike and was just generally awesome? Just because he was a little less than 100 percent sure she was the one for him? That was silly.

Who said you had to be 100 percent, anyway? He’d felt that way with Anika, and look how that had turned out. Wasn’t romance about taking a little leap?

(Sure it is. There are leaps of faith. Leaps into the great unknown. But you are certainly not supposed to “leap” when you’re just not that into the person you’re leaping for.)

Gael leaned a little closer, let their elbows just barely touch.

And yet, he couldn’t help but think of what Sammy would say—Wes Anderson, so formulaic. He couldn’t help but see her eye roll, that way she had of putting her hands on her hips when she wanted to make a point.

And that’s why he was glad he was here with Cara, he decided.

He turned to her, caught a hint of a smile.

She may not be a movie buff, but on the upside, she definitely wouldn’t tear it apart.





red light, green light


Gael couldn’t stop talking about the movie the entire drive back to Chapel Hill.

“Seriously, though, it was amazing,” he raved. “What did you think? As good as James Cameron?”

“Well, nothing’s as good as James Cameron.”

He laughed, but he cringed a little inside because he knew she was at least partially serious. “Okay, but really?”

“Honestly?” she asked.

He nodded. “Honestly.”

“It was kind of weird,” she said.

“Well, yeah,” he said. “Wes is kind of weird. But did you like it?” He swore that she looked like she was enjoying it a little bit, at least, in the theater.

Cara shrugged. “I mean, I liked being there with you.”

Gael took a quick breath. “You didn’t like anything about it?”

Cara bit her lip, thinking it over. “The girl had cool clothes, I guess.”

Gael took a left onto Franklin and decided to try a new tactic. “So what did you dislike about it?”

Cara’s eyes flitted out the window, and she fooled with the vents, flipping them back and forth. “It was just weird, like I said.”

“That’s all?” he asked.

Cara stopped messing with the vents and whipped her head around. “Yeah. And can we talk about something else, please?”

Gael nodded, trying not to be disappointed. He knew she wouldn’t appreciate the movie like he would, he’d known she wouldn’t dissect it like Sammy would, but he couldn’t help wishing she had something more to say.

(I watched as Gael proceeded to do what any good Romantic would do: He ignored his disappointment. Cara, in turn, being the Serial Monogamist she was, tamped down her frustration.) “Should we get something to eat?” he asked, changing the subject. “You like Spanky’s?”