So in the best interest of maintaining my sanity, I have refrained from thinking about everything that has occurred and is occurring and will be occurring in the last (and next) twenty-four hours. My brain has blotted out all of yesterday's events and I've just been mostly kind of not thinking about where I'll be in less than an hour.

     Which is with Dres, to be clear. In a dark theatre. With less than a foot of space between us.

     Okay, so I'm not actually refraining from thinking about it. It is, in fact, all I can think about. It has taken over my life. But I'm not freaking out.

     I'm under Dres's skin? Yeah, okay. More like he's under mine.

     My mom drops me off at Private Weston on her way to work. She thinks I'm meeting Grace and Halston there. I don't know why I'm not telling her about my plans with Dres, mostly because I'm not sure what my plans with Dres actually are. Are we dating now? Is this just friendship? I'm not sure and I'm trying not to lose my mind figuring it out.

     I find Dres in the kitchen, apron tied around his waist, as he frosts the last row of cupcakes on a tray in front of him. His back is to me, but he glances over his shoulder when I step into the room. It's something like sonar, how he knows when I'm there.

     "Hey, you're early," he says voice cool. Easy going. Casual. 

     I keep reminding myself that this is casual. That I want it to be more than what it is but it's just a movie. It's just a daytime movie, which is even more casual. "Yeah, sorry, I can wait."

     Dres says, "No, it's fine, I'm just about done." He turns back to the cupcakes and finishes icing them to perfection, before he takes the tray to the fridge and slides it onto a rack.

     He unties the apron, tossing it on the counter, as he says, "Car's out back."

     I follow Dres down the hallway, stop outside the Employee room while he gets his jacket, and then out the back door to his car. I try to think of something to say as I get in.

     "Your car smells like you," I decide is a great non sequitur. He glances at me, eyebrows furrowed, and I flush, heat rising on my face, burning my ears. "I mean, your car smells good," I rectify quickly but realize that it doesn't help and just settle for keeping my mouth shut.

     Dres is clearly amused though, so at the very least maybe he finds me funny.

     "How's your eye?" he asks, more clinical than caring.

     "Just the right amount of hurt," I tell him honestly. He glances at me at a red light, staring hard like he's examining my face. He definitely is. "What?" I ask.

     "Are you wearing makeup?" he asks, laughing a little. I'm glaring at him. He goes, "You are." And then he goes, "Huh. You didn't have to do that."

     The makeup has its work cut out for it, covering up the seven shades of embarrassment I'm currently displaying. I stutter on a response. "I did it so people wouldn't look at us and think you use me as your kickboxing dummy or something."

     "Oh, because surely that's the first thing that would cross their minds," Dres responds mockingly.

     I almost say, "No, the first thing that'll cross their minds is that we're into some kinky BDSM shit." But I imagine Dres wouldn't find the joke funny.

     He asks, "Have you seen the trailer for The Martian?"

     I nod. "Yeah. The one with Matt Damon."

     "I was thinking we could see that. Or Steve Jobs, if you want something more serious."

     "No, The Martian sounds good. It looks funny. And I like Matt Damon." I realize how that sounds and quickly add, "He's a good actor."

     "Okay, good, there's a 4:30 showing."

     I'm still on the fence on whether this is maybe or maybe not a date. Dres buying our tickets doesn't help me decide. There are clearly date-like moves being made here, but with Dres you just never really know. Unless you ask. I could just ask. Like, 'hey, is this a date?'

     I'm not going to ask.

     "I have money, you know," I say even though I'm flattered he bought my ticket and am trying to contain my smile because I'm supposed to be chill. Chill AF. So chill I'm like the fucking icebergs that took down the titanic.

     "I know, I sign your checks," Dres responds as we get on line for refreshments.

     "What do you want?" I ask and he looks at me funny. "To eat?" I clarify, nodding to the counter.

     "You're not paying."

     "I have money."

     "Good. Save it. Don't let money burn a hole in your pocket."

     I can't even argue with him, not when he sounds like a seventy-year-old man.

     We get to the front of the line and he asks me what I want. After we order, we fill our drinks, butter the popcorn and grab napkins before heading in the direction of our theatre.

     The theatre is already dark and basically empty. It's reserved seating, the fancy recliner seats so we head towards our seats up towards the back.

     The trailers begin a few minutes later, and I watch, excited for the movies that'll be playing next year. I make small commentary like "That looks good" or "I gotta' see that."

     Eventually Dres asks, "A bit of a movie fan?"

     I shrug, flushing. "Mm, I guess so," I answer quietly. The theatre is slowly filling and they're starting to show those crying baby and ringing cell phone clips. "My dad and I used to watch a movie every Sunday. One time we watched the whole Lord of the Rings trilogy. Which is why its pretty freaking cool your sister goes to a film school in the city. In another life that would've been something I did."

     I can tell Dres is looking at me even though it's dark. The movie screen illuminates his face enough that if I turn my head I can see too much to remain composed. And my composure is tenuous as it is.

     The seats are really close too, so I don't turn my head to look at him because it's his lips and nose and eyes staring straight back at me and that makes me more nervous than I am prepared to handle.

     "You don't talk about your dad," he says.

     "Neither do you," I respond thoughtlessly, just as a deflection.

     Dres takes my response, doesn't say anything for a minute and then goes, "You remember that my sister goes to film school?"

     "Of course I do," I say in my best whisper, even though its still quite loud. "It'd be cool to meet her. I kind of need to know if she's anything like you."

     I glance at Dres out of the corner of my eye. That's about as much looking as I can handle. He shakes his head. "Not at all."

     "Yeah, well I can see why you would say that. But I don't think its all that true. Do you guys get along? I wish I had a sibling."

     Dres nods. "Yeah, we've always been pretty close. I think you'd like Amelia." Even though he hasn't expressly said he'll let me meet her, it feels he's saying eventually I will.

     The movie starts playing so we settle in our seats and stop talking.

     Dres gave me the popcorn and I'm juggling it on my knee between us, shoveling handfuls into my mouth. Chewing helps me forget that Dres is right there beside me and we're reclining in our seats, which is basically like lying side by side. If I turn my head, our faces would align.

     I tell myself to stop thinking about his lips.

     Our elbows are touching on the shared armrests and he doesn't move, like he doesn't mind so I let my arm rest there, pressing against his and somehow this minute touching is like a five-alarm fire in my body.

     We both reach for popcorn at the same time and our hands topple over each other's. I pull back, apologizing quietly. He shakes his head like it doesn't matter. It probably doesn't but it makes me want to grab Dres's hand and lick the salty butter off his fingers.

     I need to stop thinking about things like this.

     I risk a glance at Dres and he's drinking from his water bottle. I can faintly see the outline of his neck, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. I shove a handful of popcorn into my mouth to keep myself from groaning at the mental image of just that, Dres drinking, ingrained in my head.

     This is going to be a long movie.

     Halfway through the film, and a few seconds after I make a comment, Dres laughs and goes, quietly, "You're one of those people who talks through movies." He says it right into my ear and a rush of heat burns down my neck.

     I think about it and yeah, he's right. I haven't shut up since the movie started. "Okay, okay," I whisper back. "I won't do it anymore."

     However many minutes later I make another comment. Dres looks at me and I turn to look back sheepishly. I can see that his expression's amused.

     I can't help but grin before I notice the space, or lack thereof, between our faces and my smile fades away. My eyes dart along his forehead, the curve of his nose, and down to his lips, which are parted slightly and pink.

     The movie jolts us, and our attentions return. I'm reluctant to turn my head back but tensions are rising on screen (they're rising off screen, too) and I'm pretty much hooked. Either way, the moment has passed and maybe it's for the better.