Babe.
She called mebabe.
First, Matty. Always Matty.
Once, in the alley, Mr. Montclair.I wouldn’t mind hearing that one again.
But now,babe.
She didn’t even notice. It slipped out naturally.
But I noticed.
It’s the closest thing to affection I’ve gotten so far. And it feels euphoric.
She suddenly brightens, like a lightbulb went off in her head.
“Let’s watch a movie!”
I blink, still stuck on thebabething.
“Huh?”
“A movie! That was my idea! We have the theater, and I’ve watched some things in there. I thought it’d be fun. I think it’sFriday, so I figured you didn’t have work. But if you do, that’s totally okay. And I get it if you don’t want to–”
“That sounds great, sweetheart,” I cut in, smiling.
She talks so fast when she’s excited. It’s adorable.
But something bothers me.
She was nervous to ask.
I frown.Why?
Are we not at a point where she should feel comfortable inviting me to do things? I need to do better.
Then it clicks.
Dinner and a movie.
Is my sweet girl asking me out on a date?
I feel lightheaded.
Or she just wants to watch a movie.
Nope. I reject that idea.
She could always watch a movie alone. She’s inviting me to join her.
That makes this a date. Or at least, in my book it does.
Her smile widens. “What do you want to watch?”
She’s bouncing in her seat, and I can’t remember ever feeling this happy.
“How about the one Benny’s named after?”
