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George never expected to actually land a date with someone like you. Although he initially thought a movie date was the worst possible choice, he completely caved when he saw you marveling at the posters displayed outside the theater. It wasn't a new release, or even a film from the last five years; your gaze was fixed on a poster announcing the return to theaters of a movie you’d been wanting to see for ages. Even though he wasn't the biggest fan of romance movies, George decided to make you happy and let you pick the film for your date. Still, he spent a few evenings reading magazines and newspapers to familiarize himself with the movie - knowing full well that during the screening, he’d likely be too focused on having you right next to him to actually absorb the plot. And what if you started talking about the romance afterward and asked for his opinion? Exactly - he had to at least know what the movie was about!
As you might expect, the choice fell on “Casablanca”, a 1942 film. The newspaper blurbs read something like this: "Rick Blaine, a cynical nightclub owner in Casablanca, runs into his former flame, Ilsa. She is the wife of Victor Laszlo, a Czech resistance leader. Old feelings between the couple are rekindled." Huh. It sounded... well, pretty cliché - at least to someone who didn't watch romance movies. That was really all George needed; he’d already managed to guess how the movie would end. Honestly, he was convinced it would be some happy love story or a drama that ended with you crying on his shoulder. He wouldn't have minded that, though - let's be real: it’s still a form of physical contact between you.
On the day of the date, George picked you up by car, just as any self-respecting gentleman would - he’d only recently gotten his license, and his mother still got nervous whenever he got behind the wheel, but he’d insisted on driving right up to your doorstep anyway. He didn’t have store-bought flowers, true, but he did have a positive attitude. He’d spent half an hour pilfering blooms from his mom’s garden and a neighbor’s, plus gathering a few more on the way to your place; the resulting bouquet was a hodgepodge ranging from common daisies to a few stray roses he’d managed to yank off a roadside bush. It was a struggle, but who else but George could pull it off? The drive to the cinema wasn’t exactly thrilling - just a bit of small talk punctuated by the radio and a few comments about the "awesome band" he played guitar in... But the real battle began once you two arrived at the theater.
Young Harrison couldn't shake his nerves; his palms kept sweating, and in his anxiety, he kept fumbling in his pockets for cigarettes, a habit he’d picked up relatively recently. It was hard to tell if it was the stress of being in a band or just peer pressure: he was in a group with older guys who smoked, so why should he be any different? Still, he had to watch himself - smoking was banned in the cinema. Oh well. Who made these rules, anyway? A single cigarette during the movie wouldn't kill anyone; it was like going to a party and not scoring a bird. Pointless! But anyway, he had to be careful not to make a bad impression on you.
You took two seats in the back row, fairly close to the middle, so you’d have the best possible view of the entire screen. George was well aware of the effect small gestures had on women, so he made sure to let you enter the cinema and the screening room first, holding the door and letting you choose your seat. He’d been practicing his signature smile in the mirror all day; he couldn't afford to let the date go down the drain.
“So, uh...” He cleared his throat before the movie started. This was his last chance to talk to you before the show began, so he planned to make strategic use of the moment. “Do you like romantic movies?”
“Oh, I love them.” Bingo. George gave himself a mental pat on the back for hitting on a topic you enjoyed. After that answer, he let you talk about your favorite romantic movies, nodding along every now and then, even though he was hearing about most of them for the first time. The only ones that rang a bell were Lady and the Tramp and Singin’ in the Rain, but that was solely because they’d aired on telly when he had a cold and nothing better to do than watch whatever was served up to him. In any case, as soon as you finished your discourse on cinema, the movie started.
The black-and-white image was the only source of light in the dark theater, and its bright highlights made it seem to George as though every inch of your skin were glowing, lending you an almost ethereal look. It was a miracle he managed to watch the movie at all whenever you turned your gaze toward him - likely because you simply felt like you were being watched; he couldn't blame you for that, as he would have felt just as awkward had you been constantly staring at him like that.
During the iconic "La Marseillaise" sequence - where Victor Laszlo defiantly leads the patrons of Rick's Café in singing the French national anthem - George felt soft, gentle lips slowly brush against his cheek. In that instant, all his confidence and his plan to make "the move" vanished like the cigarette smoke that had drifted from his lips before he’d even gotten into the car to pick you up. Truth be told, had he not been so giddy, he might have marveled at how a single gesture from you could leave him speechless and make his muscles and joints go rigid, as if turned to metal. He was practically at your mercy, and a rosy flush rose to his cheeks when you let out a soft, melodic giggle. He was smitten to the core, yet he couldn't give in.
It was only when the scene unfolded where Rick tries to convince Ilsa to leave with her husband, Laszlo, that George finally gathered the courage to look at you again, turning his whole body to face you. He mustered enough nerve to slowly reach out and clasp your hand in a firm grip. His other hand moved to your cheek, turning your face toward his; had the resounding "We’ll always have Paris" not drowned him out, he would have said something to you, but instead, he leaned in until your lips met. At first gentle, Harrison’s movements soon betrayed his hunger - revealing just how long he had waited for this moment and, above all, how desperately he needed your touch. He savored your lips so deeply that he didn't even notice the exact moment you slipped your hand from his grasp and wrapped your arms around his neck. You looked like a pair of lovestruck teenagers ready to brave the judgmental stares of those around you just to be close to one another - and that is exactly how you felt: as if the outside world didn't matter, and you were sealed within your own private bubble, alone - just the two of you.