You Can't Hide

title. Young Frankenstein—got to love a good ol’ American-made movie in the UK. At least my paper is finally written. I’ll turn it in on Monday, and I’m done for a few weeks.
She wondered how Todd was. She had no clue what he was doing. Eight hours earlier than the UK, he was probably sitting down to lunch. Benjamin’s wedding was the next day, so she guessed that Todd was doing crazy, best-man stuff, for sure.
“Do you want butter on your popcorn?”
“Oh, yeah, sure, but not much.” She took her popcorn and soda and went into the movie. The movie had come out a year ago and now it was in the theater on campus. A few students, mostly by themselves like her, sat in seats spread out over the theater. The lights dimmed, and the movie rolled across the screen.
A few minutes into it, a student sitting behind her leaned over the seat. “Gene Wilder aces it, doesn’t he?”
The voice startled her, and she jumped. “Uh!” Turning around, she motioned for him to be quiet, but the second she saw who it was, it made sense that the inconsiderate, talking-out-loud in a movie theater student would turn out to be “library boy” whom she had penned, not knowing his real name.
She spun back around, but couldn’t focus on the movie for fear that he’d interrupt it again, or worse yet, come and sit in one of the empty seats on either side of her. Finally, she decided to just leave. She worked her way down the empty row and into the aisle.
Glancing back, she noticed that library boy was no longer there. Oh, dang. He’s probably waiting for me in the lobby. On second thought . . . she sat in the aisle seat and waited for the movie to end, hardly enjoying it at all.
When the credits rolled across the screen, she waited for some of the students to leave, and then squeezed in between them.
Safe outside the theater, she breathed a sigh of relief. Walking at a fast pace, she crossed the campus toward the main thoroughfare toward her flat. A few students stood around, but other than that—no library boy, anywhere.
She glanced down at her watch. Todd would be at the wedding rehearsal, or at least getting ready to go. She wondered if the gift she’d sent to the states had arrived in time. Oh well, if not, it’ll get there eventually. It wasn’t anything great—just a miniature of Big Ben. She figured Benjamin would really love it and probably his soon to be wife, too. She wished that she had bought it before Todd had left for the wedding. That would’ve saved her the expense of sending it internationally.
Knowing Todd and Benjamin’s mother, a gift from the UK would mean more to her, than Benjie. In retrospect, that’s probably why she sent it, to impress her future mother-in-law—hopefully, her future mother-in-law. Todd and she belonged together, that was for sure.
She pulled out her keys and skipped up the steps. Light from the street lamp swept over the brick building creating long, thin shadows across her front door. Suddenly, one of the shadows moved. She drew in a sharp breath and turned.
“Uh! What are you doing here?” Her heart thudded in her chest.
Library boy leaned against the lamp post. “If you must know, I followed you.”
“Get away from me, or I’ll scream.” She held her keys out in a threatening manner, and jabbed them toward him.
He rolled his eyes. “Ooo, Oooo,” he said, mocking her. “I didn’t follow you to follow you.”
“What?” He wasn’t making any sense.
He pointed to the apartment building past her flat. “I live there.” He pushed his hands into his pockets and walked past her.
“Oh.” Okay, that was embarrassing. Still, she watched him get farther away, before she unlocked her door, and went inside. Leaning back against the door, she tapped her head against it. Lame. Lame. Lame.
The next day was a Sunday. Pulling herself from her warm bed, she dressed, and then laced her shoes. Sunday jogs were her favorite time of the week, quiet and peaceful, well, until library boy came up beside her, lingered, and then jogged ahead. The timing was just too coincidental.
“Oh, my heck, can’t you bother someone else besides me?” She hadn’t meant for it to come out so sharp, but this guy was getting on her nerves. It didn’t seem to faze him in the least bit.
He glanced back at her. “You’re kidding me, right? You really must think you’re all that.”
She stopped running. “Me? Why do you keep,” she slapped the side of her leg, “showing up, and everything?”
He stopped running and turned around. “What?” He looked at her like she was crazy. “Okay, okay, I give. You win.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ve been stalking you for your looks and money.”
He’s mocking me. She glared at him. “Oh, you’re a load of laughs.”
“I try,” he said dryly. “Anyhow, your holier than thou attitude explains why you’re always alone.”
“Uh!” She bit the side of her mouth. She was not alone. She was nearly engaged to be married. Nearly. Her eyes narrowed, but nothing came out of her mouth, and that troubled her more than anything. Why didn’t she just come right out and tell him? She was taken. Leave me alone. Still, the words would not form on her lips.
“A guy would have to be psycho to put up with you.”
Put up with me? That was just mean. She went to slap him—impetuous and hasty, not like her at all, but she wasn’t quick enough.
He grabbed her hand midair and brushed her fingers across his lips. Dropping them, he said, “MJ Moore.”
In shock, she muttered, “Why did you do that?” His actions were far hastier than hers. She stared down at her quivering fingers, willing them to stop. Her mind was a jumble of emotions. With his irritating words, she had been sure he wasn’t interested in her, but he had kissed her fingers.