"No," she said, her voice firm as she removed my hands from her face. "Stop."
I blinked, surprised at the sudden shift. The drain connection snapped shut as our physical contact broke. Aurora took two deliberate steps backward, creating distance between us.
"I barely know you," she said, her voice steadier than her slightly trembling hands. "And I have..." she hesitated, "...I have Nolan."
I couldn’t help but chuckle, dropping my arms to my sides. "Right. Nolan. The guy who can’t even publicly admit you’re his girlfriend."
Her face flushed, but not with arousal this ti. "That’s not fair. You don’t understand our situation."
"What I understand is that you felt sothing real when we touched, and you’re scared of what that ans."
"Maybe I am," she admitted, crossing her arms. "But that doesn’t an I’m going to throw myself at so guy I t three days ago just because my body reacts to him."
I had to respect that. Most of the won I’d encountered so far had crumbled pretty quickly under the combined assault of Specin’s physical perfection and Virgin Killer’s passive field. Aurora was showing more resistance than expected.
"Fine," I said, stepping back and dropping onto the couch. "That makes sense. We barely know each other."
Her shoulders relaxed slightly at my retreat. "Exactly."
"So let’s fix that." I gestured to the space beside . "Hang out. Talk. No touching."
She eyed the couch like it might bite her. "Just talk?"
"Scout’s honor." I held up three fingers in a salute I was pretty sure wasn’t even correct. "We can watch a movie or sothing. What do you like?"
The question seed to throw her. She’d clearly been prepared for more resistance on my part.
"Um... I like romances. Drama. Character-driven stories."
"Any specific favorites?"
Her face brightened. "Have you seen ’Return to Harbor’?"
"The one with Aria Chen and Mikael Santos?"
"That’s it! I love that movie. I’ve watched it like six tis."
I made a gagging sound. "That lodramatic garbage? The one where she cheats on her husband to go back to the sumr fling from her hotown?"
Aurora’s mouth dropped open. "It’s not garbage! It’s about rediscovering your true self and following your heart!"
"It’s about a woman who makes vows to one man then breaks them because she gets nostalgic about so guy who fingered her on a pier fifteen years ago."
"That is NOT what happens!" Aurora’s hands flew to her hips, all caution forgotten in her indignation. "Marcus was her first love, and they were torn apart by circumstance. Her marriage to David was built on compromise and security, not passion."
"So that justifies cheating?"
"She doesn’t—" Aurora stopped, narrowing her eyes at . "Wait, have you actually seen it?"
"No," I admitted with a grin. "But I’ve seen the trailers, and it looks like every other cheating-is-romantic garbage fire Hollywood churns out."
She marched to her bag and pulled out her phone. "That’s it. We’re watching it. Right now. You don’t get to judge a film you haven’t even seen."
"I don’t have it."
"It’s on StreamPlus. Everyone has StreamPlus."
I sighed dramatically. "Fine. But I’m making popcorn, and I reserve the right to mock it rcilessly."
"Deal," she said, her eyes flashing with challenge. "But you have to actually watch it. No looking at your phone."
"Counter-offer: I’ll watch it if you sit next to on the couch like a normal person instead of hovering in the corner like I’m going to attack you."
She considered this, then nodded. "Fine. But no funny business."
"Wouldn’t dream of it."
I headed to the kitchen, pulling a bag of microwave popcorn from a cabinet. As it rotated in the microwave, I watched Aurora surreptitiously exploring my living room. She ran her fingers along the bookshelves, examined the few frad photos I had (mostly corporate events with my father), and lingered by my collection of vintage vinyl records.
The microwave beeped. I dumped the popcorn into a large bowl, added salt and butter, and carried it back to the living room.
"Ready for the worst cinematic experience of your life?" I asked, setting the bowl on the coffee table.
Aurora rolled her eyes. "Ready to prove you completely wrong."
I grabbed the remote and pulled up StreamPlus, searching for her precious film. The poster featured a beautiful woman staring wistfully out at a harbor while two n’s profiles frad her on either side. Classic love triangle bullshit.
"Before we start," I said, "I need you to know that when I’m right about how terrible this is, I expect a formal written apology."
"And when you’re wrong, I expect you to admit it publicly on campus."
"High stakes." I nodded appreciatively. "I like your style, Fitzgerald."
She sat on the couch, leaving a solid two feet of space between us. I placed the popcorn bowl in the gap—a neutral demilitarized zone between our territories.
"Ready?" I asked, finger hovering over the play button.
"Ready."
The movie started with sweeping aerial shots of a coastal town, all golden-hour lighting and artful composition. I had to admit it looked pretty. Aurora imdiately relaxed into the couch, her face softening as the familiar opening washed over her.
"The cinematography is by Ling Wei," she inford . "She won an Academy Award for this."
"For filming... water and buildings?"
"For capturing the essence of mory and longing through visual composition."
"That’s a fancy way of saying ’filming water and buildings.’"
She threw a piece of popcorn at . "Shut up and watch."
As the film progressed, I found myself watching Aurora more than the screen. Her face was expressive, reacting to scenes she’d clearly seen multiple tis with the sa emotional investnt. She mouthed certain lines along with the characters. Her eyes welled up during a particularly lodramatic confrontation.
By the thirty-minute mark, she’d unconsciously shifted closer, our hands occasionally brushing in the popcorn bowl. Each contact sent a little spark through the drain, but I kept it firmly closed, respecting her boundaries.
"See how she looks at Marcus there?" Aurora whispered during a pivotal scene. "That’s the look of soone reconnecting with a part of themselves they thought was lost forever."
"That’s the look of soone who’s about to make terrible life choices," I countered.
"You’re impossible."
"I’m realistic. David renovated an entire house for her. Marcus offers her what... nostalgia and good sex?"
"It’s not about the house!" Aurora turned to face fully. "It’s about feeling truly seen by another person. David loves the idea of her, the perfect wife who fits his life plan. Marcus loves her chaotic, ssy authentic self."
"So divorce David first, then go fuck Harbor Boy."
"That’s not how emotional awakenings work! Sotis you don’t know what you’ve been missing until it’s staring you in the face again!"
Our faces were closer now, her passion for the film bringing her into my space without her realizing it. I could see the flecks of gold in her green eyes, the slight part of her lips as she defended her romantic worldview.
For a brief mont, I considered closing that distance. Testing her resolve. Seeing if her principled stand would hold up under direct assault.
Instead, I laughed and tossed a piece of popcorn in my mouth.
"What’s so funny?" she demanded.
"You. Getting all worked up over fictional characters making terrible choices."
"Art reflects life," she said primly, settling back into her side of the couch. "And sotis life is ssy."
"Can’t argue with that."
We fell into silence as the movie continued. The romantic tension between the protagonists built toward its inevitable conclusion. I found myself actually getting invested despite my earlier mockery. Not because the story was particularly original, but because Aurora’s enthusiasm made it impossible not to care a little.
When the inevitable sex scene arrived—Harbor Boy and Cheating Wife getting it on in his weathered boathouse while dramatic music swelled—I glanced at Aurora. Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing slightly faster.
"Very artistic," I comnted dryly. "The way they crash into everything symbolizes the destructive nature of their passion."
"You’re ruining it," she whispered, but I caught the smile tugging at her lips.
"I’m improving it with comntary."
As the movie reached its climax—Cheating Wife leaving her husband with a tear-stained letter while Harbor Boy waited in his truck—Aurora was fully invested again, her hand pressed against her heart.
"He’s going to forgive her," I predicted.
"Shh!"
Sure enough, David arrived at the harbor just as they were leaving, gave a speech about wanting her to be happy, and basically blessed their union despite his broken heart. The final shot showed the new couple sailing away on Harbor Boy’s boat, silhouetted against the sunset.
Credits rolled.
"That was..." I searched for the right word.
"Beautiful," Aurora supplied, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.
"Predictable."
She turned to with indignation. "You have no soul."
"I have standards." I stretched my arms over my head. "But I will admit the acting was better than I expected. And there were a few decent lines."
"So you didn’t hate it?"
"I didn’t say that."
She laughed, the sound light and genuine. "You liked it at least a little. I saw you getting into it during the lighthouse scene."
"I was thinking about how unrealistic it was that her hair looked perfect after getting caught in that storm."
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