Lunar Love (29)

“Clearest when you’re watching…” I look over at the poster of tonight’s screening. “…Practical Magic?”

“A good movie transports,” Bennett says, undoing his seat belt. “This one’s witchy, and it’s what happens to be showing tonight. Have you seen it?”

“I have. It’s good,” I say nonchalantly. I watch it every single year in the lead-up to Halloween, but he doesn’t need more data points on me.

Bennett reaches behind his seat to grab something. “Dinner,” he says, holding up a brown paper bag with plastic containers piled to the top.

“Don’t they sell food here?” I ask.

“I wanted to prepare something special for you.” Bennett sets the containers on top of the dashboard. He passes me a paper plate and wooden chopsticks. “And this way we know what the food we’re eating is actually made of.”

Through the plastic, I spot rolled rice and seaweed, but it can’t be what it looks like. “Is that,” I say, leaning closer to the containers, “sushi?”

“Handmade. I also brought popcorn, Peanut M&Ms, Twix, and Red Vines for dessert. The candy here is way overpriced.”

“Right. So this is where you came up with your idea for ZodiaCupid?” I ask as Bennett removes the lids off the containers.

“No, that was somewhere different.”

“I see. Then what kind of ideas do you get here for your business?” I probe. Tonight cannot be a waste. “Is this where you thought up the idea for this mysterious product launch happening?”

“All my best ones, and actually, yes. But you still have to wait to find out what that one is.” He ignores my groan of protest and reaches for the bag of candy, setting it between us.

I look toward the backseat. “Any chance you’ve got a slushie machine back there?”

“You sure do ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” he says with a laugh. “I like that about you. One second.” He jumps out of the car. I watch him run to the concession stand and return with large blue raspberry slushies in each hand. “I’ll splurge for slushies.”

I poke the straw into the blue icy slush. “Any chance you’ve got a money machine back there, too?” I ask.

“If only,” Bennett says, resettling into the driver’s seat. He twists a button on the radio to find the right station for the movie.

“Does this radio even work?” I ask in a teasing tone.

“It’s the first thing I fixed,” he says.

The screen in front of us lights up, shining light onto the hoods of everyone’s cars. “You didn’t have to handmake sushi! This must have taken you so long,” I say, picking up a piece of sushi with my chopsticks and biting into it. “Whoa. What’s that flavor?”

Bennett rolls up the sleeves of his slate-gray sweater and watches as I try to figure out the flavor pairing. “It’s pumpkin, sage, and brown butter,” he finally says.

“Sage! Yes, that’s it. Unexpected. I don’t stray too far from my usual sushi suspects. This is different.” I take another look at the center of the sushi. Soft grains of rice wrap around cooked pumpkin with minced fresh sage and brown butter, the crispy dark seaweed exterior adding a salty finish.

“I know it’s unconventional, but I think the flavors really work well together.” Bennett pops the entire piece of sushi into his mouth.

“They surprisingly do. It’s nice, actually,” I acknowledge.

Bennett smiles. “I’m happy you like it.”

We watch the opening scene of the movie as we alternate between bites of sushi and sips of slushie. There’s a comfortable silence between us as we eat.

“Can I tell you something?” I whisper to Bennett.

“Okay,” he whispers back.

“I’ve always wanted to experience a drive-in movie.”

“I hope it’s to your satisfaction.”

“Four and a half stars,” I say.

“That’s my highest review yet,” he says gratefully.

I try to stifle a laugh. “Why are we whispering? We’re not in a theater,” I continue speaking quietly.

“Then I can do this?” Bennett rips open the bag of Peanut M&Ms and crunches a handful of candy between his teeth.

“And this.” I chomp down on the Twix bar but there’s hardly a sound.

“Shhh!” he says playfully.

Amusement bubbles up inside of me. I hug my arms around my body, my sweater the only barrier against the cool evening air. Bennett pulls two blankets from the backseat and offers me one.

“Thanks. You’re like a magician,” I say, accepting the blanket.

“I come prepared.” Bennett holds his blanket in front of him, shielding his face before dropping it and ducking as though he’s disappeared.

“Impressive,” I tease, fluffing the blanket over my lap. The glow from the screen illuminates his face.

“What’s your favorite movie?” Bennett asks.

“I can’t pick just one movie as a favorite,” I say. “Love Story for a good cry, To Catch a Thief for love in a stunning setting, 10 Things I Hate about You for the dialogue, anything and everything by Nora Ephron. It depends on my mood.”