A pleasant chuckle emitted from behind me. “Feet fall asleep?”
I looked over my shoulder, meeting a pair of friendly amber eyes. Well, he was definitely unexpected. I had been convinced that no male in town owned anything outside of Ralph Lauren or the Brooks Brothers’ brand names. Yet, the stranger before me couldn’t be pegged by any label. He looked like how I’d imagine Dorian Gray might dress if he had been a modern-day rock star.
“A bit,” I admitted, flexing my aching toes.
The coffee-haired stranger dropped his gaze to my feet with a smile. “Nice kicks.”
Sure enough, we were both wearing black Chuck Taylors. The difference between the pairs was that his was branded with the anarchy symbol on the sides and top.
“So what brings you to our quiet little hamlet?” he inquired, brushing a loose strand of hair from his eyes. “Vacationing?”
“What makes you think I don’t live here?”
“Everyone knows everyone around here, whether you want to or not,” he clarified. “And considering the Prada sporting divas of Maine’s coast, you don’t exactly blend in with the pack.” Mom would’ve blown a gasket if she’d seen me leave the house looking as I did. Torn up jeans, Led Zeppelin t-shirt, and all. The mention would have been an insult coming from anyone else in town, but approval flickered in the stranger’s eyes, signifying it was entirely a compliment.
“Thanks,” I smiled.
He nodded as a smile of his own spread across his lips. Between the dimples that formed and the adorableness of the cleft in his chin, the simple action lit up his entire face. “You know, if you want to avoid your legs from cramping up, it helps to sit in the first row of the main section. You can rest your feet on the metal bar of the walkway divider. Makes for a decent footrest.”
“Wish I could, but someone’s already sitting there,” I said, gesturing to the doorway of my screening room. “It’s only me and someone else, but I don’t want to be that person who infringes on other people’s personal space, especially when I have the whole rest of the theater to choose from.”
“I wouldn’t mind.” His smile grew all the more as momentary confusion reached my face.
I sighed in understanding. “You’re the other person.”
“Indeed I am.”
“Sorry, I didn’t recognize you. All I saw was the back of your head when I went into the theater.”
“Still a better sight than most of The Phantom Menace.”
At last, I laughed. “Good point. But then again, you did pay to see it, so…”
“I paid to see the original Star Wars trilogy. Having to endure the unfortunate prequels just comes with the territory,” he chuckled.
“So you wouldn’t mind some company for Attack of the Clones?”
“Not at all.” He extended his fingerless-gloved hand to me. “Reese.”
Walking back into the lobby, we both winced as the early morning sun reflected off the freshly polished granite floors. I thought for sure I would’ve fallen asleep at some point, but Reese and I both spent the last eleven hours eating our weight in concessions, laughing the entire time. As it turned out, I’d met someone who was an even bigger Star Wars fan than myself, if that were possible. Fueled by a caffeine high from all the soda I’d ingested, I wasn’t the least bit tired. Still practically in tears, we continued laughing over the ‘Han Shot First’ debacle as Reese and I headed across the foyer.
He held the door open for me, flashing me the smallest glimpse of a tattoo wrapped around his wrist between his glove and shirt cuff. I thanked him and walked out. Goosebumps perforated the back of my neck as I noticed the lone passerby on the sidewalk not ten feet from us. Based on his clothes and ruffled state of his once-neatly groomed hair, it was clear the twenty-something guy had obviously had a long night on the town. He stopped dead in his tracks, a wicked grin spreading across his tight lips. I followed his line of vision to see him focusing on Reese’s tattoo as well.
“Friend of yours?” I asked Reese in a low enough voice so that only he could hear.
Reese took one look at the guy and froze, any sense of amusement slipping from his face. “No.”
The stranger’s smirk tightened as he lingered on the sidewalk for an instant longer, eventually continuing on his way down into the alleyway between a couple storefronts that hadn’t opened yet.
That was weird, I thought. But the unease subsided the moment the man disappeared from sight. “You want to go grab something to eat?” I sighed, trying to lighten the sudden heavy mood. “I don’t know about you, but I could go for some French Toast to wash down all that candy and popcorn.”