“I’m always game for a good HEA.”

I sigh. He even knows the lingo.

“Stay right here,” he says. “Pick any seat you want.”

As he races up the aisle, I settle on a row in the middle of the theater and even choose the exact middle. I squeeze my hips past the armrests of the tiny old seat. I’m not squished exactly, but I just barely fit. A gold star-shaped plaque on the wooden armrest reads 13P, and the one next to me reads 13Q. It’s such a small detail, but I want to remember these two seat numbers forever. I think about Cynthia and her husband, and I wonder which seats they sat in on their first date.

The houselights dim, and it’s actually a little spooky in here by myself. And then the screen comes to life with intro studio music playing. Malik runs back down the aisle and flops down into 13Q.

“Which movie did you pick?” I whisper. I feel immediately silly, because it’s just us and I can talk as loud as I want.

“Well, I almost chose my favorite,” he says, “which is The Princess Bride, which we keep on hand for annual anniversary showings, but then I figured maybe we should watch one I hadn’t seen. So we could expand my education.”

“Next time we have to watch your favorite,” I tell him.

“In which category? Sci-fi? Horror? Suspense? Bollywood? Comedy?”

“You’re into Bollywood?” I ask. I’ve only seen a few on TV, but to say I like what I’ve seen would be an understatement.

“Strictly the classics,” he says. “I don’t do remakes.”

And then the opening scene starts before I can ask for more details. We see the back of Drew Barrymore’s head as the camera pans down to reveal she’s standing on a baseball mound as she narrates. “You know how in some movies they have a dream sequence, only they don’t tell you it’s a dream? This is so not a dream.”

“Oh my gosh!” I squeal. “Never Been Kissed! Drew Barrymore plays a journalist—well, technically a copy editor—who goes undercover at her former high school. You’re going to love it.”

“We’ll see,” he says. “I’m kind of annoying to watch movies with. At least according to my sister. She says I find a flaw in everything. But we had this one on hand for a Drew Barrymore marathon.”

“Just watch,” I tell him.

We’ve held hands. We’ve kissed. And still my stomach is spinning in circles when I hold my hand palm up on the armrest—the universal sign to oh-my-gosh-please-hold-my-hand-already!

It takes as long as it takes Drew Barrymore to show up to school with her fresh makeover in her outlandish white fur outfit before Malik’s hand inches closer to mine and our fingers finally intertwine.

We sit there and watch the movie—the whole thing. I quote along to a few lines before I can catch myself, and I don’t even get up to pee because I’m scared I’ll somehow ruin this moment and it won’t be the same when I return.

After the credits roll, I let out a big, unstoppable yawn.

“Just one last thing,” Malik says. “I just have to show you one more thing before you turn into a pumpkin.”

I yawn again, but I nod. “Okay.”

He takes me back through the employee staircase we initially went up, and then he leads me to an even narrower staircase. Before he opens the heavy metal door, he reaches for a brick sitting on top of the doorframe.

He grunts as he opens the heavy door and holds it for me as I step out onto the rooftop. Carefully he wedges the brick in place to stop the door from swinging shut.

“The best view in Clover City,” he says.

I take a few steps closer to the edge of the roof where the LONE STAR THEATER letters stick up over the roofline. A few of the letters have little birds’ nests inside and a couple of the lights need replacing.

But he’s right. The view is amazing. At this hour, only a few buildings are still lit up, but you can still see all the way to the edge of town, and then it’s like the rest of the world is just swallowed up in darkness. Like this little town exists on a planet all by itself.

Malik pulls over two old office chairs. “Cameron and the other guys take their smoke breaks up here,” he explains.

The two of us sit down, and for a few minutes we just live here in this moment without a word between us.

Finally I break the silence. “How is it I’ve lived here all my life and I’m just now seeing this view of Clover City?”

A soft smile plays at Malik’s lips. “You think you know a place,” he says. “You think you’ve got it all figured out, but it’s like with camerawork. You just adjust your position, even slightly, and suddenly you’re telling a different story. Seeing a new world.”

And funny as it may be, this reminds me of Callie. I thought I knew just the kind of person someone like her was. I thought I had her pegged. Pretty girl, dance-team assistant captain, dream boyfriend, and just sharp enough to intimidate you. But that was only the story of herself she wanted me to see and not the Callie I’ve come to know.

“Perspective,” I say. “Perspective is everything.” I want to stay here forever, but I can’t stop myself from yawning again. I glance down at my phone to see that it’s well past two in the morning.

“I better get you home.” Malik stands up and offers me his hand.

“Only if you promise not to be greedy with this view.” I take his hand and stand.

“We can’t tell too many people,” he says. “Can’t have everybody trying to steal our spot.”

My mouth goes a little dry. I’ve been waiting for another chance to kiss, ever since we were interrupted by the movie coming to an end earlier. We haven’t kissed, like really kissed, since we filmed my audition tape. I thought kissing him again would get easier, but try telling my nerves that.

If Malik’s nervous, it doesn’t show. His head tilts to the side as he pulls me closer to him, holding me tight. It’s way too warm out to have this many goose bumps, but my body defies science as Malik’s lips meet mine. I almost forget to breathe through my nose as he deepens the kiss and combs his fingers through my hair.

I can have it all. I decide in that moment. Everything I want can be had.

Callie

Twenty-Eight

When Mitch came by the gym to talk to me, I was completely caught off guard. After Millie left me totally stranded with him—I gotta teach that girl how to be a proper wing woman—Mitch blurted, “I’m sorry about acting so weird at the pep rally.”

I nodded. “It is what it is.” Instinct told me to play it cool, but somehow I didn’t think Mitch was the kind of guy to respond to playing it cool.

“Listen,” he said, “I’d really appreciate it if you gave me another chance.”

And that was about the time Millie piped in, stealing away whatever shot I had left at playing it cool.

So I’m giving him a chance. Partly because what the hell else do I have to lose? And also not many people outside of Millie and her friends are clamoring to hang out with me. And there’s something about the boy that makes me want to get to know him better.

The real obstacle now is getting my mom to agree to lifting my grounding enough to let me hang out with a member of the opposite sex.

I decide the best time to strike is Saturday morning. I wake to a flurry of text messages from Millie. She included me in a group text with Amanda in the middle of the night.

MILLIE: If everything is horrible every day for the rest of my life, just remind me that this night in April was perfect.

MILLIE: Is it silly to think that you can find true love in high school?

MILLIE: Have y’all ever thought about how weird it is that birds are just little feathery dinosaurs?

MILLIE: Okay, that last text wasn’t relevant. But I think I’m in love. Real love.

MILLIE: happily ever after romantic comedy love #HEA

ME: What’s HEA?

MILLIE: HELLO?? Happily ever after!

I laugh to myself. So I guess it’s safe to say her date with Malik was a success. I don’t get how she just feels everything so hard. That must require some serious energy.

I can smell my mom’s omelets from where I sit upstairs in bed. My door creaks open, and Kyla pokes her head in and then shouts down the stairs, “She’s awake! Can we eat already?”