Ticket for One

Samantha was taking forever to get back to me. Every time I checked the ticket availability, I became nervous, then frustrated by her delayed response. Finally, I decided to text her again. This time her response was prompt: Mike and I have plans. 

Before I allowed that to process, I returned to the theater website and checked the seat availability. I cursed Samantha. The seats I wanted for the midnight showing had been taken. I could either wait the following day or take a seat which was a little too close to the front. I switched back and forth between my browser tabs as I weighed my options. Ultimately, I settled on the original showtime because I am stubborn like that. Fuck Samantha. 

Before the movie, I grabbed a late night dinner at the sports bar across the street. Yes, I did feel a little lonely in the bar where everyone was with friends. Fortunately, it was the playoffs for some sport - I could not see the screen - and the local team must have been winning. As another goal, or was it touchdown..some point was scored by the local team and a man ran through the packed bar collecting high fives from everyone. After another goal, the entire bar erupted in cheers. I checked the time, finished my burger, and left. 

On the streets of downtown people were everywhere, dancing and singing. The CN towner was lit up in blue. The overall feeling was quite jovial, bu I muttered ‘fuck Samantha’ under my breath, knowing that I was about to watch a move by myself in a seat too close to the screen. I rubbed my neck in anticipation of the strain. 

When I entered the theater there were a lot of people in blue already seated; including in the seats I coveted. Yeah, fuck you, Samantha. I took the right turn and walked down the aisle towards the screen, then took a left to my empty undesirable row where I plopped down in my seat. A few guys, also in blue, joined my row, but on the far end. I stopped looking around as the lights dipped and the previews started. I settled into my seat and I looked forward. To my surprise, I found the seat was not as bad as I had thought. And, even better, I found out that the seat could recline. I chuckled, about to curse Samantha’s name once more for good measure, but then a guy, a really handsome guy, walked down my aisle. I stopped my antics and sat up allowing him to pass, all the while hoping he would have the seat beside me. He did! He even leaned over and whispered, “I think we are the only two non-Leafs fans in the room.”

I scrunched my brows in confusion. What were Leafs fans?

“Oh, never-mind. I take it you’re not a hockey fan.”

I shook my head. 

“Then my secret that I’m a Habs fan is safe with you,” he said all of this with a smile and a wink. He then turned away and focused on the movie; I could not. 

There was something about this Habs fan, whatever ‘Habs’ meant. He had a gorgeous profile, thick dark hair, and a slight five o’clock shadow. I nearly jumped in fright when he turned my way. His light eyes - hazel, maybe blue - sparkled in the dim light. 

“Popcorn?” he asked, tilting the bag of popcorn my way. 

I did not want any, but I accepted it as a ploy to keep our engagement up. I wanted to know more about this guy. More so than about the movie. What was this man’s name? What did he do? And, most importantly, was he single? It was hard to tell in the darkness if he was wearing a wedding band or not. I could not wait for the lights to come back on. I finally stopped looking at my neighbor and watched the movie, stealing glances periodically under the guise of a strategic piece of popcorn. At one moment we laughed out loud together at one scene, and my neighbor was even bold enough to whisper something in my ear. What he said, I could not tell exactly. The movie was too loud. But I smiled and half nodded, playing coy and pretended to focus my attention on the movie. 

When the movie reached its climax, my heart began to beat faster. I knew the movie would be over soon. The popcorn my neighbor had had long finished, so there was no way for me to look at him without being obvious. I sighed and settled into my chair. As I did so, I could sense my neighbor’s eyes on me. I hesitated and pretended not to care, though my pulse was beating through my skin at this point; he could probably see my veins pulsating. When enough time had passed, I turned towards my neighbor. Oh how I wished to know what he was thinking with that slight smirk on his face. He then returned his attention to the screen and I followed his lead. The denouement of the movie was unfolding, leading us two in our seats to our own climax in our own story. When the movie ended, and the lights finally came back on, I realized a decision had to be made. I lingered in my seat deliberating on what would be a reasonable option for me. I could tell him my name and ask for his number, but maybe that was too forward. 

My neighbor yawned and stretched. As he did so, the bottom of his dark t-shirt slid upward, giving me a tiny peak of his abdomen. I felt myself flush with warmth. Any coherent thought that I had managed to string together now faded away into the ether. My neighbor then leaned in, hypnotizing me with his bright eyes; they were gray. He smiled. 

“Well,” he said, “have a good night.”

And just like that, he left.