At the moment that we leave the restroom, Airin instantly pulls away from me as a young man’s arm drops on my shoulders. Being way much taller than me, I had no advantage of letting go at all. I can’t even remove his arm from me. Damn him.
“Bonjour, mademoiselle,” Sam greets at the sight of Airin with his casual smile.
Airin blushes. “Is it French day for you today, monsieur?”
“I lack practice already,” he replies with a chuckle.
Practice in French, or practice with something much bigger, monsieur?
“All right, Frenchie. You know I can’t argue with you.” She turns to me and winks.
“Anyway, do you need a ride back home?” Sam offers, and before I could even cut in with their conversation, he suddenly places a hand over my mouth, causing my voice to be muffled.
“Oh, I’d love to! Unfortunately, Peter said that he’s coming to pick me up,” she remarks.
I know that she is lying. Being her best friend for about a decade already, I know almost every single thing in her life. I know her favorite things, what she hates the most, what cheers her up or what makes her sad, a list of all her previous boyfriends and her fantasy boyfriends, and I know too well that she had been in a fight with Peter since two days ago. Even though I love seeing them together, telling myself that they are perfect, I find the reason of their argument completely so simple. I am the one who came with her to watch the movie because I and Peter had the same thought on how the movie will be.
“Are you sure about that?” I ask against Sam’s hand, causing my question to end up hearing as: “R yuh shrue boot dhad?”
“Of course, Críona.” At the time that we’re already out of the cinema, she raises a hand at us to wave before she heads off on her own. “Gura míle, Mi Adá.”
We watch Airin as she heads to the opposite direction to where the exit is, skipping jubilantly like a little child full of life. For some reasons, I am glad that Sam had already removed his hand from my mouth that when I turn to him, he is gaping at Airin’s fleeing form. He finally snaps to his senses that he asks, “Did she just mixed Gaelic with Italian?”
I frown at him and finally use this chance of him being completely defenseless to slip from his grasp. He almost tumbles with my sudden disappearance next to him as if to support his weight, and he looks at me expectantly as I stand right in front of him with my hands by my waist, “It is an Italian endearing. Remember that Airin has Italian blood through her maternal grandmother.”
“That only makes her one-fourth Italian,” he concludes.
“Excellent, Sherlock. Still, you can’t deny that customs die hard.”
“But you need to fit in if you want to be accepted in a foreign society.”
I cross my arms across my chest throwing an unsatisfied frown at him. “What’s that supposed to mean, Amadán?”
His once happy and energetic face somehow slack for a second despite the fact that his eyes are covered by dark tinted aviator’s glasses. He opens his mouth but slowly closes it again, deciding not to say what he has in mind, and he shakes his head to drop the subject. He buries his hands on his jeans pocket and with a heavy sigh, he turns away from me and starts walking off.
I slowly place my hands behind me and start matching his pace as well as I walk beside him on our way to his car parked just by the lot. I look at him, thinking of what could be going on his mind, but I certainly failed to deduce so. Well, the reports are true; there are people like Sam who are very good liars when it comes with whatever emotions they have.
I try to ask him to snap him out from whatever thought he is thinking of, “Hey, you’re not going to ask me about what’s my reaction with the movie?”
“What do I care about it?” he inquires, lacking emotions at all. He suddenly becomes so detached and distracted.
“Well, you should care though! Anyway, Lieutenant Garner should just have followed the girl’s advice.”
“What do you think will happen if he did?”
“In my point of view, Diana would have survived if Garner just escaped much faster. At that, Diana wouldn’t be caught letting a prisoner away.”
“But he did.”
“Because he is one sick captured soldier who’ve fallen in love with his captor.”
He stops in front of his bloody red luxury car, he opens his car and the door at where he stands by the driver’s side and I just by the passenger. He turns to me, and I know that his eyes are looking at me directly when he answers, “That’s the art of drama, Óinseach. They find a way to squeeze your heart at where it hurts.”
I open up the passenger’s door and answer, “The problem is that not all people could relate with it.”
“Well, you can’t even tell me if there’s one movie that you’ve watched throughout your life that got you to cry.”
“There’s one,” I reply as I climb in and settle myself to the seat, closing then the door before fumbling with the seat belt. “Well, Star Wars does.”
He scrunches his nose as he enters in, close the door and fastens his seat belt. “I won’t criticize why. Believe me, I know that Star Wars is indeed a hit. I know how much you loved it, and I also does. But seriously, I am expecting that you’ve got a soft heart to even cry for one movie that is really under the genre of romance and drama.”
“Let me think.” I fake my thinking and after few seconds, I answer, “True. There’s none.”
“Bingo! Aside from Star Wars…”
“Especially that one in The Revenge of the Sith.”
“You haven’t even shed a single tear in other movies.” He shakes his head, muttering to himself, “Unbelievable.”
“At least I cry when Anakin falls to the dark side, Obi-wan leaving him to die, and Padmé dies… I am such a crybaby when I watch that scene.”
He laughs as he lowers the headboard mirror across him. He removes his glasses, showing his brilliant grayish-green eyes, and his wig as well, causing his messy brown hair to replace his disguise. He turns to me with a smile again, “I know you do. And I’ll never forget that time that you did. Don’t you remember that we had a Star Wars marathon when we were kids?”
“Yeah. How could I forget that! That’s also the time that you received a call from your agent that you got the role for I saol céanna mar atá tú, Monsieur Siadhail.”
He grins, starts up his car, and we speed away from the lot.
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