I failed in getting any further than holding hands.
But I wasn't complaining.
The last fifteen minutes of the bus ride were spent in complete euphoria, my heart thundering in my chest, June's soft hair pressed up against my neck, her head leaning on my shoulder. I loved the way she smelled.
Like ginger.
With nothing else to do but explore the waves in her hair and sniff her, I sat with my chin on her head and examined.
I concluded that she smelled like a basement party- but not a party exactly. More like a gathering. A little get together where everyone's collected and propriety just hangs in the air while everyone nods and agrees to a round of beat poetry and black coffee.
Yeah, that was it.
She smelled like ginger and black coffee and a group of people splayed on a shag carpet playing tarot and talking about the little antique shop they went to last night. She smelled exotically musty, like she'd been everywhere without really ever leaving. And I wanted her to stay with her cheek on my shoulder, with her eyes closed so she could somehow incorporate me into that mix.
"...You smell good." I assured her.
My stupid compliment broke the silence that had settled over the bus since she'd snuggled up to me.
She didn't respond. She just remained on my shoulder with her eyes closed.
I kept staring down at her, and eventually I laid my head onto hers, immediately feeling the twang of 'what're you doing?', but then the feeling passed and I relaxed.
This was still really bizarre. I kept thinking that I might be dreaming, but I was too overjoyed and shocked to refute myself. This was indeed real. I don't know how it possibly could've happened, but it was happening!
I got somewhat of a rude awakening when the bus churned to a stop in front of the studio. I didn't want to get up! I didn't want to present now. June picked the perfect time to fulfill my dreams…
I exhaled nervously and June opened her eyes and stood up, releasing her hand from my grip. Instantly sweat poured off my palm- a mixture of anxiety and body heat. I wiped it off on the inside of my pocket and rose to stand beside her.
She smiled, and I smiled back.
Nothing needed to be said.
--
Stretching my legs, I walked stiffly down the paneled hallway to Lauren Finn's office. My stomach clenched with a mix of fear, happiness, excitement and embarrassment; the latter being induced by the bus driver saying, "You two lovebirds have a great day now…" as June and I exited the bus. This got my emotions on the fritz again, and I stepped a few inches away from June to wordlessly show her that I wasn't jumping to conclusions, even if that bus driver was.
But lovebirds? I certainly hoped so…
My spirits were soaring when I reached Lauren's office doorway. I must've came in looking like the most confident client ever to give a private screening.
My grin even seemed to perk Lauren up, because her stern corporate stare waivered slightly and she flashed a friendly smile as I walked in the door.
"Hello! You must be Mark."
"Uh, hi, yeah! Thank you- thanks so much for taking the time to see me!"
"My pleasure. I'm very interested in seeing your treatment. The clip you went over with Mr. Wilson was very interesting, I must admit…"
"Well thank you so much again! Really, I'm flattered. It's an honor to even be in this office! Would you- would you um, like to read over the script? I have it here…"
"Sure! Glad to see you're prepared."
I handed her the measly screenplay from the portfolio.
It was only ninety-five pages.
I was troubled about the studio's interest to view this particular movie of mine. It was a rather dumb romantic comedy, drafted years earlier, shot in only six days with a budget of $1,000.
It needed work, that was for sure.
I think the studio admired it for the editing and cinematography. Those were my strong points. The writing was choppy and immature. It had wit, but it was simple, and a few of the lines were even contributed by Roger, months ago. It starred all but three actors- all acquaintances from the theater department, who agreed to the six day shoot with no pay.
It was the epitome of a student film.
The clip I chose was twenty minutes or so. I shifted nervously in the swivel chair and restrained myself from calling on my editing mistakes every time they flashed onscreen.
When the projector whirred to a stop and the fluorescent lights turned back on, Lauren turned to me, nodding contently. "Very good. Very good. I liked that a lot. I think, what we'll do Mr. Cohen, is that we'll keep a copy of your script for reviewing and get back to you after some deliberation."
"Great! Sure! No problem. Would you like to keep the clip as well?"
"No. That won't be necessary." She pried the reel off the projector and handed me my film and its case. "I like your style."
She walked me to the door, fingering through my script. Distractedly she said, "Thank you for coming in…" and ushered me into the hallway.
That was such a quick interview. I wondered if that was good or bad…?
--
Any doubts vanished when I saw June perched in a chair, waiting for me in the lobby. I wanted to leap up and kick my heels together and whoop for joy- but instead I kept my head down and beelined to her.
She glanced up from the issue of 'Vouge' that she was reading and untucked her legs from under her. She raised an eyebrow, and concerned, she whispered, "How'd it go?"
I frowned and shrugged. "I have no idea. I think it went well. It didn't go badly… I mean, she seemed very interested…" I shifted the camera bag on my shoulder nervously.
June set down her magazine and leapt to her feet. She elbowed me in the ribcage, skipping ahead of me to the exit.
"Well then, c'mon lovebird, let's blow this popcorn stand…"
Automatically, I followed.
--
The next bus home didn't come for another hour. It was much too awkward (for me anyway) to sit and wait on the rocks lining the driveway outside, so we decided to take a walk along the coast.
A small path lined with beech planks ran along the Atlantic to the east and woods tangled mysteriously to the west. Small patches of prairie grass sprung up occasionally in the gray sand and waved madly in the wind. The ocean crashed deafeningly under the October sky, and small whitecaps brutally lapped the frozen shore.
We held hands and walked along in silence, bracing ourselves from the howling wind. Neither of us looked at each other, or attempted conversation. The noises of the bay spoke volumes.
Somehow, I caught June's eye and she giggled.
"Happy Halloween…" She whispered, staring out over the majestic ocean.
We stopped walking to look together, the blustery weather whipping June's maple locks around to frame her face. She leaned up against a driftwood fencepost, and I stepped in front of her to block the cutting wind.
"You too-" I replied.
And suddenly, her arms were around my neck, and we were kissing.