"I can't believe you convinced me to come out here."
"Believe me, I'm right there with you, sister."
"Of course, should I really be surprised?" Summer asked, "you bring home my favorite bottle of wine, then you let me drink most of it, and then you ask me to come out and stand in this line full of ...Neanderthals."
"In all fairness, I just asked you to the movies... the line of Neanderthals is completely incidental."
"Either way, you got me drunk," Summer poking his chest accusingly.
"Yes," Seth slung his arm around her shoulder affectionately, "and I'm praying it lasts until we get back home so I can talk to you about that loan..."
Seth almost swore he heard an "oh, geez," from underneath his arm, but then the line was moving forward, and they, with it.
They were standing in the midst of close to fifty people, who were jostling and elbowing past them to get to the front door of the Paramount, the oldest movie theater in the City. That night the only shows playing were old Cary Grant movies, and while they were good, Seth didn't really understand the draw.
He stood on his tiptoes, his eyes sweeping the top of the crowd, bemused.
"Are they giving away free popcorn or something? Geez. Who knew this many people were desperate to see Philadelphia Story...?"
"Free popcorn?" Summer muttered disparagingly, rolling her eyes.
"What?" Seth protested, feigning hurt. "I would get in line if they were giving away popcorn."
"And that is what makes you an enormous dork!"
"Oh, sn-ap!"
"Shut it, Cohen," Summer shoved her palm into his shoulder and he grabbed at her wrists to stop the assault. He pinned her arm behind her and was delighting in her squeals of protest when a passing gentleman glared at him. He immediately released her.
"What? What happened?" Summer asked, alert to his shift in temperament.
"Nothing, this guy just walked by and looked at me as if I were battering you, or massacring kittens, or something."
Summer laughed. "Oh, my God! Do you remember that poster you used to have in your dorm room that said..." she collapsed in a fit of giggles, "that said... "'Every time you masturbate God kills a kitten?' Do you still have that?"
Seth scratched the back of his neck, blushing. "I think my mom came over one weekend while I was out of town and threw it away. Along with my favorite t-shirt, I might add. I never should have given her a key."
"No!" Summer gasped, in mock-horror. "Not the Shakespeare one? 'Prose before Hos'?" She took a long sip of soda from her straw.
"The very one," Seth sighed, in resignation. "She threw out my black Converse, my swim trunks and most of my Carebears..."
Summer grabbed at her nose and made some muffled choking sounds. "Great, Cohen, I just snorted Coke up my nose."
"Summer, don't say 'snort.'"
She laughed again, and Seth looked over the crowd again, bobbing around to see what was holding up the line.
"What the fuck?" he exclaimed in frustration. "Wait here, I'm going to go see what's taking so long..."
Summer looked uncertain for a moment, but then nodded her assent. The evening was bitterly cold, and Seth had bundled her up in a long sleeved button-down, a cardigan sweater, and a heavy coat, and then had fussed over her afterwards, adding a wool scarf, mittens, and a cute little beanie hat to her ensemble. She rocked forwards on the balls of her feet, liking the click of her little black boots when she rocked backwards again to the concrete.
Meanwhile, Seth fought his way to the front of the line, dodging several kids on scooters in the process. Moses, someone should really make those punks get a license to ride those things. He dashed up to the front of the line, and could finally see that the queue ended not at the box office of the old theater, but into a bar next door. That figures ...people more interested in seeing other scantily-clad people gyrate to rap music than to see genuine American History preserved on film. He should have known. Seth rolled his eyes and jogged back to where Summer was standing in line.
Only she wasn't standing alone any longer.
"Hey, beautiful," he heard above the talking club-goers. The guy couldn't have been more than twenty, clean and preppy, too pretty for someone like Summer. Even back in her superficial high school days, she liked her boyfriend-of-the-week to have a bit of an edge. Not counting that idiot Zach, of course. Regardless, the guy was undressing Summer—Seth's Summer—with his greedy little eyes, and Seth didn't like it one bit.
"Um, hey?" Summer replied stiffly, shifting from foot to foot. Her expression was clearly one of discomfort, but the jackass was staring everywhere but her face. He probably had a stupid name, too, like Tyler, or Aidan, or Hunter.
"Where you headed?" Hunter asked, still leering.
"Is it any of your business?" Summer asked, her tone contemptuous, fixing her sightless gaze on him. He probably had no idea that she was blind...
Hunter grinned in response.
"My friends and I have a VIP pass, if you want to come with us..."
"And wallow in the scent of Joop! and apple martinis? No thanks..."
Though Seth knew that Summer could hold her own with anyone, the fiercely protective part of him won out. Seth marched up to them, shouldered past the guy and slung his arm around Summer's shoulders. "Britney, honey ...we have to meet your parole officer in ten minutes, we better get moving..." He tapped his watch for emphasis.
Hunter made a fast break away down the sidewalk, not hazarding a backwards glance. Seth smirked, turning to look over his shoulder. Awesome.
"Excuse me!" Summer said, indignant. "I was being hit on there. Way to salt my game."
"Yes, Summer, you were being hit on. By a fifty year old guy wearing a toupee," Seth cupped her elbow into his hand and guided her towards the front of the line.
"Really?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
"No," he mumbled, grinning and shaking his head. He brought her to an easy stop in front of the box office, and pulled out his old, cracked leather wallet. "Two for Philadelphia Story ...hey, you guys aren't giving away free popcorn, are you...?" Summer elbowed him as he handed over the cash for their tickets. "...Nevermind," he amended, taking their tickets a few seconds later and taking her arm again before heading towards the doors of the theater.
"Listen here, woman, no more elbow jabs or I'm not going to have any ribs left."
"As I recall, there wasn't much there to begin with..." she teased, and then immediately flushed twelve different shades of red.
Seth coughed, and bit back a chuckle. They both fell silent as the usher tore their tickets and directed them to the corridor on the left. Seth escorted Summer in, and then found seats for both of them in the back of the theater. There were two couples in the front, heads drawn together privately. Another couple had brought their two teenage children, both of whom looked liked they'd rather be anywhere than on a date with their parents.
Seth smiled at everyone that made eye contact, whispering to Summer every time they reached another stair. She carried herself flawlessly, responding to his commands with ease, and grace, even.
"Here," Seth said, directed her with a hand on her back. "The row is empty." Summer edged her way down the aisle of seats, sidling to the middle and plopping down in one of the old red velvet seats. Seth eased into the seat next to her, then helped her remove her coat, her hat, and scarf. She settled back, her hands folded neatly on her lap.
Seth's breath caught in his throat. The pale teal of her shirt brought out the color in her olive skin, made her glow becomingly. Her jeans hugged her curvy figure in a way that made his own pants a little tight. He shifted in his seat.
"I haven't been out to a movie theater since the accident," Summer confessed in a hushed tone. She smiled. "Thanks for this, then."
Seth bit his lip, breathing harder. Don't kiss her. Don't.
"Hey, you ever wonder why they show previews at the classic movie theater?" he forced an anxious laugh.
She gave him an indulgent smile. "I've never really thought about it."
The lights went down in the theater, and the reel started with a crackly swell of music. Seth sat back in his seat, relieved that he didn't have to make any more polite conversation. Seth, the compulsive talker, the nervous babbler ...forcing pleasantries. It was ironic, to be sure. But also heartbreaking.
Why should he feel obliged to make conversation with the woman he loved, just for the sake of it? Not that comfortable—or even uncomfortable—silences had ever been their specialty, but they'd never just made chit-chat because they were too nervous to do anything else.
Summer enjoyed the film—he recalled that they'd watched it together before, probably in college, and he found himself chronicling the events on the screen even though she didn't need it. At some point during the movie, his hand shifted down to where hers rested on the armrest, and he took it into his own. She'd didn't protest, or pull away, and to his utter embarrassment, he didn't even notice until the lights came back up, and she cleared her throat. She pulled her hand away and very purposefully busied herself with redressing herself in the many layers she shed before the movie. Seth stared at the sticky floor, kicking himself.
She was probably thinking up a list of ways to make his life miserable at that very moment. He couldn't believe the audacity—though it had been completely unintentional—and he knew she was probably thinking the same thing. God, he'd fucked up again. Typical. Typical Seth Cohen. Master fuck-up. They should give him a degree in it, or something. He should at least have something to show for it...
Summer brought him out of his self-flagellation. "Ready?" She asked, shaking her lovely head. The ball on the top of her beanie cap bounced pertly. She's so adorable, it's ridiculous.
"Sí, Señor Freddy," Seth answered, offering his arm to her.
Summer frowned. "Huh?"
"As in, 'Ready, Freddy?'"
Summer rolled her eyes, "Seriously, Cohen, if they gave medals for being dorky, yours would be...really shiny."
Seth grinned, "I was just thinking... something along those same lines."
"Really? Did it involve titties and that guy from Miami Vice?"
"What?" Seth shook his head, completely at a loss.
"Well, that's the only way you could get any dorkier..." Summer supplied, placing her gloved hand on his forearm, allowing him to lead her down the row towards the stairs.
"Summer, I have to say that sometimes, you are a complete mystery to me."
Summer squared her shoulders, proud. "What can I say? I'm like Anastasia... or one of those Bond girls."
"Bond girls?"
"Uh, yeah. Like how did they always end up with perfect hair?"
"Must be one of life's little mysteries," Seth said as they stepped off onto solid ground and left the theater.
"Not really...it's just Hollywood, trying to make the rest of us feel hopelessly inadequate."
"Um, not that I doubt your adequacy, or inadequacy, for that matter, but what do you say to a caramel macchiato?
"Since when do you drink frilly coffee?"
"I don't. You do. You get the macchiato, I get a stiff shot of espresso and possibly a swift kick to the head, as well."
"Well, okay. As long as I'm home by eleven."
Seth shot her a sideways glance.
"Curfew," she explained, sadly. Then she winked. Winked. Seth shook his head in bewilderment.
From the recesses of Summer's purse, the MacGuvyer theme song began playing, drawing both out of their private thoughts.
"It's Kurt," Summer explained as she dug through her bag in search of her cell phone.
"I'm sure glad that didn't go off during the movie," Seth said, as they glided to a stop on the sidewalk. "I'm not sure everyone else would have appreciated that Kurt could build a bomb out of nothing but string and a coat hanger."
"Yeah, yeah," Summer answered dismissively, finally finding her phone, and silencing the annoying jingle with a press of her perfectly-manicured thumbnail. She brought it to her ear.
"Grüß dich!" She said, too cheerfully. "Das ist Summer's House of Torture and Pain. How would you like to grovel for forgiveness today?"
"I am sorry," Kurt actually had the good sense to sound contrite, and Summer found her resolve weakening. Kurt really was one of her favorite people, when he wasn't being a complete ass. "I was just frustrated, and your bad mood didn't help."
"Es geht! I'm sorry, too," she admitted, exasperated.
"Wait, did this phone just cut out?" Kurt tapped the receiver. "I could have sworn you just said you were sorry."
"Yeah, yeah. Wie geht es Anna?"
"Danke, gut. Her mother's keeping her hopping. Mrs. Stern won't even come out of her bedroom, won't even get out of bed. She keeps sending Anna running back and forth. And you know how Anna is, waiting on her hand and foot. Lord knows she's had practice," Kurt teased.
"Ha ha. Have the cousins tried to smother her in her sleep yet?"
Kurt chuckled. "Not yet, but I wouldn't put it past a couple of them."
"Well, tell her I love her, will you?"
"Will do. Hey, it sounds like you're out," Kurt said, hearing the honking of a passing car in the background. Summer pressed her index finger against her free ear.
"We are. I almost forgot to tell you!" she said excitedly. "We went to the Paramount to see Philadelphia Story, and now we're going to Starbucks, and then we might go down to the red light district, try to pick up dates..."
"Okay, okay, no need to abuse the sarcasm."
Summer grinned, scuffed her toe against the ground, dancing around. "I was serious...about the movie, anyway."
"Really? Summer, that's excellent. I'm so proud," Kurt placed his palm over the mouthpiece. "Hey, honey, Seth took Summer to the movies..."
Summer rolled her eyes during this exchange. Seth bounced back and forth on his feet, radiating nervous energy.
"...no, like to an actual movie theater...No, to..."
"Kurt. Kurt!"
"What, Sum?"
"As fascinating as this...isn't, we have to go."
"Okay. Make sure Seth takes good care of you."
Summer blushed hotly. "I will."
"Okay, we'll talk to you soon."
"Bye. Tschüs."
"Auf Wiedersehen."
Summer turned her phone off, and dropped it unceremoniously back into her purse.
"I didn't know you spoke German," Seth commented quietly.
Summer ducked her head modestly. "Just a little, Kurt is teaching me."
"That's awesome," Seth said sincerely.
"It is," Summer tilted her face up, as if to gaze upwards into his easy, open face.
"I know it's late...but maybe tomorrow, we could...talk...catch up. There's so much that has changed."
"Sure," Summer answered, though she looked anything but.
"Great," Seth smiled tightly, and offered his arm to her again. She took it, and they headed back towards the apartment, each lost in their own thoughts.
To be continued...