Chapter Text
“Come on y/n! This was your idea and if we wait any longer, we’re going to hit traffic!” Casey was shouting at you to hurry again and you certainly couldn’t blame her.
It was your idea, and you had no clue why it was taking you so long to get ready when you’d been thinking about this trip for the last few months at least. Maybe it was the sense that something, something big, would be happening. You couldn’t shake the feeling, and it often led to a rabbit hole you were only too happy to fall down. Thus, a seemingly endless cycle of delays perpetuated itself until this very moment, of you holding a green and white sweater over your open bag, just staring at it and fingering the label.
Some people are music people, they go to concerts, festivals, have an iTunes is packed with the oldies, the goodies, and every definitive bop since before they were born. Others are book people, they have their own personal libraries, actually read all the books you’ve only made it halfway through, have sparkling insights into literary motifs and stylistic evolutions of authors and movements, and always with a book nearby. There are outdoorsy people, fashion people, art people, gamers, even craft beer people. You are a movie person. Or, as you’d prefer to put it, a film person, because there is a difference. You have literally hundreds of them both, from silent to present day, every category, every genre, black and white, technicolor, foreign, domestic, artistic impressionist films and dick-joke-bro-humor movies. You live your life quoting lines from your favorites, the ones everyone knows, and others no one does and it’s just for you.
And this weekend you were going to yet another film festival. This time one of the bigger ones: Toronto International Film Festival. Somehow, you’d managed to drag along a few friends you’d made since moving to The Middle of Nowhere, Midwest, USA. You keep telling yourself the job is worth it over and over again until it almost feels true. At least the four-day work weeks are a nice perk. Honestly, it’s something you’d always wanted to do, and this was one of the few places you could actually advance; so, you packed up your life, said goodbye to friends, family, a boyfriend who couldn’t be bothered, and moved. Good news is you’re closer to TIFF in both time and space and really should be rushing a little bit more than you are. You shove the sweater in your bag and meet Casey by your door.
“Sorry, just had to make sure I had everything” you eke out as Casey rolls her eyes.
“We’ll only be gone a couple days and sitting in the dark for most of it! It’s not like anyone is going to care what we look like.” Casey sighs back as if she’s been completely exhausted by the 6-minute wait.
“Oh yeah, says the person bringing four bags, one filled just with shoes, and the other just with makeup!” A man’s voice from down the hall shoots back. “Anyway y/n has the snacks, and that’s the most important thing in any road trip, right?” You arch your eyebrow at Casey as she relents and picks up a bag of snack food, thankful that Dakota neutralized the situation.
It’s not that you and Casey don’t always get on, it’s just that Casey can be a bit much at times. Let’s just say her excessive nature wasn’t restricted to her packing habits. She basically invited herself on the trip when you had mentioned you were going to TIFF. It’s not a bad thing, her energy usually brings you up and pushes you out of your shell. Dakota on the other hand is easy going, “go with the flow” personified. He has an uncanny ability of finding a path of least resistance (i.e. conflict, drama, passive aggression, etc.), and guiding everyone down it. As far as road trip companions go, it’s not a bad pair to be stuck in a car with for hours on end.
By the time you hit the road Casey has commandeered the aux cord from the back seat. Neither you nor Dakota care as much about the music as she does. You watch Casey thumb through her phone intently until the music starts, realizing she has compiled a playlist specifically for this trip is the kind of hilarious over the top thing that has all three of you jamming, laughing and singing along as the landscape rushes by your window.
—
It’s already dark when you reach the hotel, thanks in part to grabbing a quick dinner before getting to the city, but it came at a price: A promise to Casey that you’d all go out. Something you’re not altogether convince you’ll enjoy. Casey assured you she’d take of everything and that’s what has you worried, it’s either going to be a great night out or the beginning of an awkward weekend with your coworkers.
After checking in, and thankfully getting separate rooms, the three of you head toward the elevator, “So what do you reckon, half an hour?” Dakota posits, looking directly at Casey.
“Umm, yeah, I guess I could make that work.” She says as she rolls each of her bags into the elevator. “What floor are you guys on?” She asks after pushing the four.
“I’m on 7.” Dakota says as Casey pushes the button.
“Yeah, me too.”
“Y/n what’s the absolute latest we have wake up tomorrow?”
You can tell Casey is already planning an intense night out, and your stomach is already folding over on itself.
“I guess that depends on whether or not you want to see anything on our general passes before the bigger film we’re supposed to see in the afternoon.”
“It’s going to be a 'not' from me. So anyway, about tonight: I’ve already picked out a few spots. We’re going to dance and drink and act like we’re fresh out of undergrad, not boring nine-to-fivers!” She’s half begging you and half hyping you up.
You smile, not ready, or rather too sober to commit to what Casey has in mind. You’re not a big partier anymore, but what’s the harm? And who knows when you’ll be able to let loose like this again?
As soon as the doors close after Casey gets off you look pointedly at Dakota, “Half an hour? You think she’s going to be ready in half an hour?”
“Oh God, no! I’m thinking an hour minimum. I just said that- “
“Ahhh, I see.”“I’m just going to change and then head to the bar here while I wait if you want to join?”“Sure, I’ll be there in half an hour.”
To anyone who didn’t know better that would have seemed like Dakota was interested in you, but you did know better. He’s like a brother to you, the only family you have since moving. Although when you first met, you’d be kidding yourself if you said you hadn’t wondered if there might be anything more between you, he’s everything you’d ever want in a boyfriend, apart from him also wanting a boyfriend.
You both leave the elevator and walk in opposite directions towards your rooms. You let out a sigh of relief and drop you bag on one of the two queens in your room before the door closes behind you. Sure, you could have split with Casey or Dakota, it certainly would have been cheaper. But you can’t put a price on the silence or stillness that welcomes you. You like people, just not all the time. You need your space and you just spent five hours in a car with Casey and Dakota, another 40 hours in a hotel room and things were bound to get tense. No, it’s definitely better this way.
You’re doing it again. Rabbit-holing. You’ve just been standing looking at your bag for what? Ten minutes? One of these days you won’t get sucked into your thoughts at every opportunity. You look through your bag, something has got to work for a night out. You hadn’t completely planned on it, but also knew it’d been a possibility since Casey was coming along. There’s a black tank top that has an open back and scalloped edges that you’re partial to. Or that sweater. No not a sweater. ‘Going out’ means dancing, dancing means sweating, and the last thing you want is to be dripping because you wore a sweater. There’s also your favorite red box shirt. It’s, obviously, box-y, but it’s also half-cropped and a bright color. Casey would probably approve. If not, she’ll march her way right back here with you and make you change into something you had no idea you’d packed. So, it’s decided: red top, black cigarette pants and your black wedges. You can’t be bothered with your hair, but a little eyeliner never hurt anyone, right? A little mascara? Sure. Nothing too intense, Casey will have all those bases covered, but you put on just enough, so it doesn’t look like you fell out of a car after five hours. Then again, who wears wedges in a car for five hours? Stop it! You’re rabbit-holing.
Only 23 minutes later you spot Dakota in the hotel bar and slide onto the stool beside him. He’s changed into a dress shirt and damn it if you don’t find a man in a dress shirt hot as hell.
“Hey you, what are you drinking?” You make a mental guess, scotch, maybe?
“Just whisky,” close enough, “You look really good. I didn’t know you owned color.”
“Oh, ha ha ha” you mock as you lightly slap his shoulder.
“Seriously, you do. What do you want? This one’s on me.” He motions to the bartender.
“Oooh, why thank you! G&T, please.”
The bartender brings you your drink and you nurse it while talking over the lineup of films you want to see with Dakota. Unlike Casey, you two intend to use your general pass. Eventually you move back to the lobby to wait for Casey, who, almost like clockwork, shows up half an hour after you’d planned on meeting. Of course her outfit is great, and those shoes are the kind you’d love to wear if you could wear heels at all.
“Ugh, so sorry you guys, I just couldn’t decide on anything. Anyway, I got us a car, are you ready?”
You had been expecting Casey to pick out a club a bit more like a rave and a lot less like a cocktail lounge, but you’re all for a much more low-key venue.
“You thought I was just going to throw you onto a dance floor? Ha!” She’s basically congratulating herself on knowing you and Dakota better than you know her, and you’re happy to be wrong about her. “Don’t worry, the next place has a dance floor, we just need to get our buzz on first.”
Dakota is eyeing the extensive cocktail menu. “Oh, fuck it. I’m getting shots. Tequila?” He says as if it’s a question, but quickly leaves before either you or Casey can answer. He returns a few minutes later with three shots and limes. “Y/n you have the next round, then it’s your turn Casey.”
After more than a few drinks later and a solid hour of dancing and shouting along to the top pop songs of the week you’re on to your third location. Casey has a rule of 5 places minimum before you’re allowed to return to the hotel. While dancing was fun, you are almost as desperate to sit down as Casey is. Her alcohol blanket must be wearing off because you can see the pain in her walk. Thank God you didn’t wear heels.
“It’s close, just around this corner.” She says while using Dakota to steady herself as they walk arm in arm. You follow just behind them, the sidewalk not quite big enough to fit three across, allowing yourself to take in the city. You miss living in a city. Life is less isolating in a city than a small town. You’d moved partially hoping to escape from how small your hometown felt, but how you managed to delude yourself into that is still a bit of a mystery to you.
You turn the corner and are pleased to see another lounge. There’s only a short line to get in which is truly a blessing, even if it isn’t moving particularly fast. You wait, leaning your shoulder on the wall facing Casey and Dakota trying to pay attention to what they’re talking about. Something about bar etiquette. You notice that feeling rises in you again: something big is going to happen. It is just that, right? Not vomit from more alcohol you’ve had in the past 3 months combined, right? Definitely not alcohol, you’d danced yourself mostly sober anyway. You feel yourself start to rabbit hole and shake your head to pull yourself out of it. You’re almost at the front of the line so need to pay more attention anyway.
“No?!” Casey is shocked about something, what was she talking about?
“What?? Sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” You take a few steps forward, only one party behind the front of the line.
“If a guy buys you a drink, you have to at least dance with him” She poses the debate to you only slightly glaring at Dakota.
“I say you only owe a chat.”
“I don’t know, I think it depends on the guy and the place.” Casey rolls her eyes “No, seriously. If a guy buys you a drink here, are you going to dance with him?” A few steps forward.
“Y/N, what do you mean ‘if’?” You let out half of a laugh and Casey stands, flaunting her confidence, until her eyes drift somewhere else. “Don’t look now, but is that who I think it is?” You notice other conversations from those in the line getting quieter around you. Whispering just loud enough to hear, but too quiet to distinguish actual words surrounds you.
Maybe it’s because you’re still buzzed, or maybe it’s because you think it’d be funny to annoy Casey you turn to look as soon as Dakota looks past you. Walking confidently towards you is a small group of people all of whom look vaguely familiar as they approach in half-lighting. One of them is smiling at the line as he walks past. You know you’re staring, well, more like glaring, and for some reason you’re ok with that. As they get closer you start putting well-known names to a few of the faces, some more familiar than others and start hoping they’re heading to a different bar. Anywhere but here, please, you just want to sit down! The group starts filing into the lounge right past the line, and almost as if to rub it in the smiling one looks right at you just before you roll your eyes.
“Typical.” You say bitingly, making direct eye contact with him. It was loud enough for him to hear and it quickly relieves him of the smile he had plastered on. Casey snaps her head and gives you a look of horror mixed with astonishment. As the group disappears through the doors.
“What?” Who knows what possessed you to say it? Your general agitation? Your aching feet? Your concern for Casey’s undoubtedly blistered feet?
“Who’d have thought that this is when you become outspoken.”
“I’ve always been outspoken, Casey”
“Loud-spoken, then”
“No lie, it was pretty bad ass, did you see his face?” Dakota is the only one of the three of you smiling.
“You three, IDs please” the bouncer redirects your attention to the lounge and the idea of sitting.
You basically fall into an open booth tucked away in a corner far away from the bar, the entrance, and pretty much everything except the bathrooms, but you’re not about to pass up a seat, especially not one with padding.
“Don’t get too comfortable y/n, it’s your turn for drinks.” Casey seems a little cross, but you know alcohol will soon remedy her foul mood.
“Alright,” you let out an exasperated sigh and heave yourself back to your feet, “go on, place your orders.”
It isn’t necessarily crowded, but you have to squeeze your way past the odd group standing around the high tops as you make your way to the bar. You’re about halfway to the bar when you find yourself toe to toe with the man from before. You meet eyes as he lets out a sigh and you both step to one side and then the other. Dammit if he’s not making himself seem charming through his awkwardness and damn you for smiling even a little. Whatever overcame you before overcomes you again as you place your hands squarely on his shoulders to stop him moving and walk yourself around him.
To everyone else it probably looked cool, easy, as if you didn’t know or, if you did, didn’t care who he was. But really your mind is racing to a hundred different places and back again all at once:
Oh God, not again.
Hopefully Casey didn’t see that.
He’s more muscular than I expected.
He remembered you from outside. Is that good or bad? Bad, definitely bad.
Why’d I have to be so rude out there?!
Why do I care what he thinks of me?
UGH!
He’s so tall, or am I just short?
The beard is maybe not a great look.
He is better looking in person, though.
He’s got great hair, even if his hairline is starting to recede.
He smelled so good.
I’ve touched him, I’ve touched him. My God, I've touched Tom Hiddleston.
And so on, and on, and on again. You practically run into the bar and barely managed to remember the order. After what just happened you open a tab and also ordered yourself a double vodka to down at the bar before heading back balancing the three drinks.
“Finally! We were going to send out a search and rescue team!” Casey says, obviously not miffed anymore now that you’ve provided provisions, and better she hadn’t seen what had happened.
“Don’t worry, your drinks and I are safe and sound!”
“I thought you might’ve gotten tangled up in something,” Dakota gives you a wink and you feel yourself blush. “Nope, cheers!” You thrust your drink into the middle of your small group and the others follow suit. You end up gulping down your drink faster than the others do, and who can blame you?
Luckily Casey notices and, not to be outdone, finishes hers and stands with a wobble “Alright, I’m up, I’m heading to the bar, and you will drink whatever,” she looks directly at you, “and I do mean whatever, I bring back.” She spins on the heel of her heel and totters off toward the bar.
“So?” Dakota scoots closer to you.
“So what?”
“So, you had a brush with a very hot, fairly famous, and undeniably gorgeous man! Did you say anything? Did he say anything? Tell me everything?”
“Oh, that.” You look off to the rest of the lounge, perhaps hoping to catch a glimpse of the man Dakota is talking about to no avail so you settle your eyes back on Dakota.
“Yeah, that.”
“It was nothing, just trying to get by each other.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Say what?”
“That it was nothing. He turned around to look at you after you walked past him.” You arch an eyebrow at him.
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” Your eyes drift back over the room, looking for a familiar face only to find one. One with three drinks in her hands and heading right towards you.
“That was fast!”
“Never underestimate the power of a smile and a low-cut shirt” she sets the drinks down on the table and settles next to Dakota. “Now, we’ve got Sazerac for Dakota, and Aunt Roberta for y/n, and dry martini for me. No questions, just drink.”
You do as instruct and you nearly fall off your chair. You knew there’d be loads of alcohol in whatever Casey brought back, but you didn’t expect it to destroy your liver in a single sip.
“Damn, Casey!”
“What? Mine’s pretty good, let me taste yours” Dakota reaches for your glass. You take a sip of Dakota’s, whiskey and strong, but not half as strong as yours.
“Mine’s pretty good too, once you get past the—“ Dakota immediately starts coughing.
“Wow. I may never see again after that.”
“Oh come on, it’s not that strong.” Casey reaches for the glass, takes a sip, and coughs. “Nope. Never mind. On a totally unrelated note, y/n, do you know, by any chance, if absinthe is legal in Canada?”
“I don’t know, but I do know that I am not drinking all of that alone!” They nod in agreement. By the time the three of you reach the bottom of the glass you can’t feel your face, but know you haven’t stopped smiling or laughing for at least half an hour.
“Our next location beckons my darlings,” Casey says as she grabs Dakota’s hand. She has definitely stomached the lion’s share of the alcohol despite your drink with Dakota and your double vodka earlier, it is time to move the party onward.
“Right, I’m right behind you, just have to close my tab.” Apparently you’re not too drunk to remember your tab, and you congratulate yourself a bit.She nods with her eyes half closed and again spins around dragging Dakota to the door.
You’re waiting to get to the bar, not really paying attention and looking around in the absent-minded way alcohol makes you do. You don’t even notice the person in front of you turn with a drink in each hand until half of them are spilled down your front. And in the way that alcohol can make a mess into something funny you start laughing.
“I’m so sorry!” That voice, a voice you’ve heard before, but not this close. Now it’s a foot in front of you, attached to a body you’d touched not an hour ago.
“Oh, don’t be, it happens all the time.” You meet his eyes again as you start trying to wipe the remaining liquid off your shirt.
“Does it?” He says handing you several napkins.
“Yep. To me, anyway.” You see his mostly empty glasses on the bar, “Oh gosh, your drinks! Let me buy you your drinks back!” Suddenly Aunt Roberta is rearing her head, and making you sound like you’ve just downed half a bottle of alcohol. Perhaps because throughout the night you have.
“Don’t be silly, I spilt on you!”
“I was standing too close and I’m closing my tab out anyway.”
“You’re not going to let me say no to this, are you?”
“Not a chance.” He smiles, really smiles at you, and you almost feel sober.
“Alright, vodka tonic and a Negroni.” You don’t mean to but you lift your eyebrows before moving to order the drinks and close out. You can still feel him behind you. Not breath on your neck, or the heat of his body, or his gaze, you can just feel him standing there. “Ok, I’m curious. What was that for?” You turn to face him and he steps closer
.“What?” You take a deep breath and feel your heart rate quicken. You know he’s attractive, and dammit if he doesn’t know it too. Can he see your pulse pounding in your neck? He’s looking at you close enough, looking at you like you’re a riddle to be solved, and it’s the first time anyone has ever looked at you that way.
“That look just then?”
“Oh, just impressed I guess. Negroni’s aren’t the most common order.” You half turn to grab the drinks and hand them to him.
“Hate to disappoint you again, but the Negroni’s not mine.”
“Again?”
“Outside? When you were standing in line?”
“Ah, right.” You press your lips together in a kind of polite smile. “Well, enjoy your night.” You start to walk past him, knowing the longer you stay there the more likely you are to say something else idiotic.
“Wait!” What? What could someone like him possibly have to say to someone like you?
You turn around and are surprised to see him nearly bump into you again.
“Have to be careful with those things!” You say, motioning nodding to the drinks in his hands. He lets out a half-chuckle.
“Right. Can you wait here for just a moment? I’ll be right back.”
“My friends are waiting for me, I really should go.”
“I’ll be quick and I’ll walk you out if you want, please?”
Maybe it’s Aunt Roberta, the sincerity in his eyes, the fact that you feel bad for being rude earlier, or a combination of all three but you nod and glue yourself to your spot.
He’s back in what feels like only a few seconds. Because you can’t seem to break yourself of a bad habit you raise your eyebrows at him, urging him to explain as you feel his hand lightly in the small of your back guiding you towards the exit.
“Thanks for waiting, I half expected you to disappear on me.” What did he expect you to say to that? You can’t think of anything and luckily neither can Aunt Roberta. “I just, um, just wanted to, I don’t know…” He stops walking and touches your arm gently to slow you down. You look at where his fingers meet your skin.
“You just wanted to what?” He breaks the contact and you look him dead in the eyes without rancor or expectation.
“No one treats me the way you do. Outside, earlier, just now.”
“Sorry about that.” You start to walk away again, clearly your feet have their own idea of what's going to happen tonight, and this time his hand grasps yours gently.
“No you don’t understand, wait!” This time he holds on when you face him. How could you possibly understand what he’s saying? It makes no sense! You’ve been rude at each interaction, and honestly he kind of deserves it, or if he didn’t before, he does now.
“No, I guess I don’t.” But you don’t pull away this time, his hand gently holding yours has you anchored in front of him.
“Everyone is always trying to impress me, I can never tell if someone I meet is being genuinely themselves or just some version they think I want to see. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is I’d like to get to know you and, if your friends wouldn’t mind, would you let me buy you a drink?” You close your eyes as if it will make sense of what he’s just said.
“What?”
“May I buy you a drink?”
“Right, I heard you, I just…” You feel your phone buzz. Oh god, Casey and Dakota. They’ve probably been waiting for you, or wondering where you are, or if you got abducted somewhere along the way.
“It’s only fair, right? You bought me two, the least I can do is buy you one” His eyes are basically pleading and you can hear Aunt Roberta whisper ‘Why not? It’ll never happen again and it’ll be a great story. Go on, have a drink with the handsome actor who finds you interesting!’ All the while he’s still talking “if nothing else think of it as an apology for spilling on you and a thank you for the drinks. Two birds, one drink!”
“Alright.“ You say it softly, but he hears you. His smile spreads across his face, wrinkling his eyes, and smoothing his forehead. You didn’t realize he was still holding your hand until he starts pulling you back towards a booth along the wall opposite to where you’d been sitting.
“Wait.” You stop dead in your tracks right before the empty booth. He turns to look at you wondering what could have changed in the 50 steps since you’d said yes. “What about everyone else? Negroni and everyone else you walked in with?”
“Would you believe me if I said I told them I owed a girl a drink?” He walks backward, still holding your hand, drawing you towards the booth.
“Probably not,” you say cautiously as you step into the booth and sit down.
“Well, I did. I’m going to see them all tomorrow anyway, so don’t worry about them.” Your phone buzzes again.
“Ahh, I see.”
“Anyway, what’ll it be?”“Something clear, so gin and tonic, please.” He smiles and slides out the other side of the booth.
“Right, be right back.”
Almost immediately you reach for your phone and instantly see the time: It’s already 2:30. The first film you want to see is at 10, so a drink might not kill you. You remember the buzzing and open your messages:
At the club n ur not here??? - Dakota
Where you at?????? - Dakota
Does he need to know that somehow you’re having a drink with Tom Hiddleston? Or, does a drunk Dakota need to know? Probably not. It’s a story you can tell them when Aunt Roberta isn’t coursing through everyone’s veins.
Not feeling great. going back to hotel. txt me when you guys get in
booo ant robert got u down!!! kk babes
He must have had more than you thought or got more at the club, because, wow. Just, wow. You’re smiling at your phone when Tom returns empty handed.
“Friends alright?”
“Uh, depends on how you define alright, but I think they’d say so.” You smile, not really flirting, but you’re not not flirting. You realize he’s put an arm around you as he positioned himself closer to you. You can properly breathe him in now. He smells better than before. Forget the drink you could just drink the smell of him in all night. Thinking of the drink you arch an eyebrow at him.
“Oh, right. I just asked for table service. It beats waiting in line.”
“I’m sure it does. Not a big fan of lines, huh?” He laughs a bit, but you’re not really trying to be funny.
“Touché” You’re saved from yourself and insulting Tom further by the waitress delivering your drinks.
“So…” You look away from your drink and into a pair of eyes that seem to be searching for something as much as you are. He’s still taller than you sitting in the booth and you’re still wondering what the hell you’re doing in a booth in Toronto with someone like him. Perhaps he can sense your apprehension or unease because he picks up where you left off, thank God for that.
“So,” he raises his glass towards yours, “‘Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you’”
“‘I thank you for your wish, and am well pleased to wish it back on you.’” Your glasses clink and you take a sip all while maintaining eye contact. How you’d pulled that from your Sophomore Lit class is beyond you, but you feel Aunt Roberta congratulating you in your head and it all has you buzzing.
“You know your Shakespeare.” He says, half impressed and maybe even a little disappointed.
“Why do you sound surprised?”
“You’re just full of surprises,” A silence grows, although you yourself can’t tell why it feels so easy. “Speaking of—“ he continues, tiptoeing his way around a question you know you don’t have a decent answer too.
“Yes?”
“I have to ask. Outside, what was that about?”
“The ’typical,’ you mean?”
“Well, yes. Definitely caught me off guard, and caught my attention.”
“Well, it was irritating watching people walk by, nodding at us like they’re saying ‘you’re welcome, I know I’m great and you’re blessed by my presence, but do let me step ahead of you despite your wait.’”
“I apologize I came off that way, I meant to use my ‘I’m so sorry, please excuse me’ nod.” You chuckle a bit and look away. As if you didn’t feel horrible before this started.
“Well clearly I missed the ‘Different Nods and their Intentions’ day in class.”
“Obviously you’re not the only one!” You almost laugh, but take a drink instead. You’ve almost finished it, something Tom has not failed to notice.
“Alright, change of topic, Toronto. Are you here for the festival? Work? What?” He readjusts himself next to you.
“Festival, you?” This time it’s he who quirks an eyebrow. “I mean, are you here to promote or watch? Business or pleasure?”
“Business, so far. I honestly can’t remember the last time I attended a festival just to enjoy it.”
“Well if you could, which festival would it be?”
“Location-wise I think you can’t beat Cannes, but I prefer the smaller independent films so maybe Sundance. Are you a film buff then? In the business?”
"Mhmm, a bit of a buff. I’m with you on the independent films. I’ve only been to Sundance once, but was at South by Southwest a few years ago, and Tribeca last year.”
“I think ‘a bit’ is an understatement.”
“Maybe.” Now you’ve only got one sip left in your glass.
“Can I get you another?”
“I’d like that,” he starts to lift his arm, but you reach out and stop him. Only gently wrapping your fingers around his forearm, his other hand coming to rest on yours. “But I better not. I really should get going. Have to be up early and all that.” You’re surprised to see he’s disappointed.
“Right, I suppose I should be heading out too.” Neither of you move, both looking at your hands. “Can I drop you somewhere?”
You look around, anywhere but at him, because if you do you might just say yes. Eventually you can’t help yourself and look at him, but he doesn’t meet your eyes.
“Sure, thanks.”
“Right, then. Off we go!”
You’re floating in this moment, you’ve stopped beating yourself up over your mouth running away anymore, you don’t feel Aunt Roberta dancing in your head. He’s just leading you to the door, your hand in his. It almost feels normal. An ordinary moment with an extraordinary man.