Seeing Mr. Nothing left me… unsettled.
Maybe it was his tie-in to the shitty time in my life when my parents fell out of love, we moved to a strange place, and my dad stopped caring about me. I still couldn’t listen to the Taylor Swift album that’d been popular at the time, because it made me cry.
Every. Single. Time.
Hell, the day of that flight, just before I’d slid into line behind Mr. Nothing, I’d cried my eyes out in the airport bathroom.
No wonder the sight of him was accompanied by a general sense of dread.
“Are you hungry?” Zack whispered. “I’m going to go get popcorn.”
“No,” I said, glancing at him and thinking he was even hot in the dark. It was still surreal that we were together, if I was being honest. Not that I didn’t believe in my own self-worth, but we were two very different people from two very different leagues.
Most of my friends—except the three who went to my school—were fellow book nerds that I’d never actually met in real life. Aside from the content we created and shared on our social channels, I shared my deepest secrets with them and felt like they knew me better than anyone else in the world.
But our friendships were remote.
Zack, on the other hand, seemingly knew everyone at our school and appeared to enjoy socializing with them. On a daily basis.
Weird, right?
“I’ll do it,” I whispered, “because I don’t want you to miss anything.”
“You sure?” he asked, his eyes on the big screen.
“Definitely—I’ve seen this a hundred times.”
Honestly, I was happy for the escape from the depressing memories that Mr. Nothing had kicked up. I scooted past Zack and exited the theater, and the lobby was quiet except for the concession line, which was three people deep. I took my spot, and was there a mere two minutes before I heard, “Boo.”
No, no, no, no.
I braced myself before turning around and looking at Mr. Nothing. He was definitely taller and more mannish than he’d been on the flight, but that I know everything about you look in his eyes hadn’t changed at all. I felt a weight on my chest as he looked at me, and I knew there was no escaping the reunion.
I tucked my hair behind my ears and plastered a fake smile onto my face. “Hey. How are you?”
He said, “Great,” the exact second I said, “Congrats on the prom yes, by the way.”
We shared the awkward we-both-spoke-at-the-same-time chuckle, and he said, “Thanks. Although to be honest, it was a slam dunk. We’ve been together for over a year.”
I laughed.
He looked at me in confusion.
I stopped laughing and said, “Wait. You’re serious?”
“Yeah.” He did a little shoulder-shrug motion—God, I remembered his propensity for careless shrugging like we’d just been on the plane together—and said, “Our anniversary was last month.”
I laughed again; I couldn’t help it. Was he serious?
“What’s funny?” He looked like he genuinely didn’t understand.
“It’s just… I don’t know… It’s just so hopeful of you,” I explained, remembering his definitive （depressing） opinions on relationships. “On the plane, you told me relationships are pointless and we’ve got a better chance of being struck with Ebola than finding happily ever after.”
The corner of his mouth slid up into a flirtatious smirk, and he gave me a chin nod. “You remembered what I said on the plane, huh?”
“I did,” I said, unable to believe that the jerk was taking my remembrance of his idiotic words to be some sort of compliment. “Because it was asinine. Your theories were so stupid that it was impossible for me to forget them.”
“You’ve been thinking of me for all these years?” He looked like he absolutely believed that as he tilted his head and said, “That’s nice, Glasses.”
I gave my head a shake and opened my mouth, but I literally could not think of a response to his arrogance.
And he knew that, because his smirk transformed into a full-on smile of amusement. “And regarding my thoughts on relationships, what can I say? I’ve evolved.”
“Sure you have.”
The line moved forward, and I screamed internally for it to move faster and end my torture.
“What about you?” Mr. Nothing’s eyes ran all over me before returning to my face. “Is Poofy Hair your boyfriend?”
Don’t give him the satisfaction, Bailey. I glanced around before calmly saying, “He does not have poofy hair.”
“I stand corrected,” he said, putting his hands into his pockets. “Is Sweater from Baby Gap your boyfriend?”
I rolled my eyes, which was something I rarely did anymore. My mother called it rude, and she was right, but I couldn’t hold back when in the presence of Mr. Annoying. I said, “Zack, the guy you saw me with whose sweater fits him just right, by the way, is, in fact, my boyfriend.”
“Did you tell him about us?” he asked, his lips turning back into that sarcastic half smile.
“What?” I felt my eyebrows squeeze together in what seemed to be my default response—aside from the eye rolling—to Mr. Nothing. “No. I mean, there is no ‘us’ to even tell him about.”
“You could’ve told him we’re old friends,” he suggested. “I’m the friend you flew across the country with.”
“I thought you said guys and girls couldn’t be friends.” I crossed my arms over my chest and felt a wave of satisfaction surge through me as I threw his words back at him.
“What? When did I say that?”
He looked genuinely confused, and I was more than happy to remind him of his ridiculousness. “You told me that on the flight from Fairbanks.”
“Wonder why I said that.” He barely paused before adding, “Actually, that’s pretty accurate. They totally cannot.”
“Can I help you?”
I stepped up to the counter and looked at the guy who was waiting for me to order. “Yes. Um, could I please have one small plain popcorn and one small buttered?”
“No problem.” He started punching my order into the register.
“Can you please pour them into a large tub?”
“Together…？” The guy looked at me like I was weird, but he was still smiley. “Sure.”
I thought I heard a snort from behind me.
“And can you please not shake them up?” My cheeks were warm as I quietly added, “Thank you.”
“Labor-intensive,” Mr. Nothing muttered, but I refused to look in his direction.
“Can I also get two large Cokes?”
“Of course,” the snack attendant said.
And as soon as he stepped over to the popcorn machine, Mr. Nothing nudged my arm with his and said, “You’re not getting a halfsy Coke?”
“Not today,” I said, even though I really wanted one. I knew he’d think he was right about the whole “labor-intensive” thing if I ordered one, so I had to deny myself.
“I like your hair, by the way,” he said, gesturing to my head.
“Thank you,” I replied, shocked that he would say something complimentary to me.