I stare at him, my body thrumming with irritation. The back of my neck feels like it’s on fire, my palms are so sweaty I have to restrain myself from wiping them on my dress, and my jaw is clenched so tight that my cheeks are hurting.
“Are you done ripping apart my favorite movie?”
“I think so.” He smiles.
“Good. Now, Rotten Tomatoes, tell me your favorite movie.”
“Why, so you can pretend you don’t like it and attempt to give it the tongue-lashing I just unleashed on your favorite movie? I’m good, thanks.”
“How do you know I’m going to be negative about your favorite movie? I might like it.”
“How do I know you’re going to be negative? Because for the past five minutes, I’ve watched you mentally plot my death. My guess is when we’re done with this dinner, you’re going to push me down the stairs on our way out, tumbling me into a coma.”
Wrong. It involves a solid twenty minutes of forking . . . and not the sexual kind!
“You know, if I’m going to get caught, planting my knife in your chest might be more satisfactory.”
“Jesus,” he says, horrified.
Embarrassment falls over me. The knife might have gone a bit too far. “You’re right, that was uncalled for. I think the trip down the stairs is more my style.”
He chuckles. “Glad I don’t have to whisk your knife away when you’re not looking.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. I don’t look good in orange. Committing a crime is not for me.”
“So orange is not the new black for you?”
“No.” I cross my leg over the other and ask, “So, what’s your favorite movie? You owe me this much.”
“I owe you nothing.”
“JP, this has been an uneventful evening that I’m begging to end and you’ve made it that much more unbearable. Please, delight me with your nonsensical movie choice. Or I’m going to start guessing.”
“That sounds more appealing. Start guessing.”
Heaving a heavy sigh, I compose myself and ask, “Is it porn?”
“Come on, I have more class than that.”
“Debatable, but I’ll rule that out just for now. Hmm.” I make a show of tapping my chin. “Based on your disdain for romantic comedies, I’m going to lean more toward some blood-and-gore action flick. And since you try to hold the high-and-mighty card, I’m going to guess your favorite movie is something like Braveheart.”
“Nope.” He shakes his head.
“The Godfather?”
“Not even close.”
“Eww, is it Rocky?”
“That would be laughable.”
I fold my arms and really study him. “Umm, Saving Private Ryan, The Green Mile, Philadelphia.”
“Are you just guessing Tom Hanks movies now?”
“Just checking, seeing if any of those sparked any interest. I can see that they didn’t. So now I’m going to go the less prolific route and say Step Brothers, 40-Year-Old Virgin, Billy Madison.”
“All funny, but no.”
“Ugh, I don’t know. Give me a hint. Who stars in it?”
“Julie Andrews.”
“Julie—what? Julie Andrews as in Mary Poppins Julie Andrews?”
He nods.
“You’re messing with me.”
“No. What’s wrong with Julie Andrews?”
“Nothing, I just . . . I don’t know, I was thinking you were going to say someone like Liam Neeson, Sam Elliott, or Jeff Bridges. You know, all rough and gruff, ready-to-seek-revenge actors. Not Julie Andrews, with her blonde pixie haircut.”
“What little you know of me.”
“You’re not kidding, your favorite movie has Julie Andrews in it?”
“Yup.” He smirks.
“What is it?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not even in the slightest. It’s truly more confusing than anything. So, I’m at a loss. The only Julie Andrews movies coming to mind are, well, Mary Poppins and The Princess Diaries and I think I’ll fall out of my chair if any of those are the answer.”
“Nope, neither of those classics.”
“You’ve watched both of them?” I ask, still in disbelief. This is a side of JP I never expected. He’s one of three brothers.
“Of course I have. Mary Poppins is wholesome, and I once dated this girl who was obsessed with Anne Hathaway and made me watch every movie of hers. The Devil Wears Prada was a complete nightmare, by the way. What kind of shit ending was that?”