“Also, Tom Hanks.” I nudge him gently. “You can’t go wrong with any movie that has Tom Hanks in it.”
“He’s the, what is the term people use? G.O.A.T.?” he says with a hint of sarcasm.
“He’s a Goat?” I ask, trying to make him laugh. “When’s his birthday?”
“No, the Greatest of All Time,” he says, grinning.
“Oh, right, of course,” I agree. “He’s such a goat.”
I can sense Bennett watching me intently. Emotions stir inside me that I haven’t felt in a long time. I almost don’t recognize myself. Why do I want to hug him and not strangle him right now?
Ahead of us on the screen, Sandra Bullock runs into town to kiss the man she loves. A chill runs through me at the awareness of my proximity to Bennett.
Bennett adjusts in his seat and says, “Did you know that Thomas Edison was responsible for the first on-screen kiss in a movie?”
His fun fact comes out of nowhere, and I dissolve into laughter. His mood seems to lift.
“It was 1896,” he continues, “during a time when kissing publicly was scandalous. People went wild for it. It’s hard to calculate the percentages of how many chemicals are released when two people kiss, like oxytocin, serotonin, and dopamine, but—”
“Hey, Bennett,” I say, still smiling.
“Sorry, you’re trying to watch the movie,” he says, shifting his position.
“No, it’s not that. I know there’s a lot happening with chemicals in the brain when people kiss, but what they’re trying to portray up there is a relationship. Here, give me your hand,” I say.
Bennett skeptically reaches his hand toward me.
At first, I hesitate but then grab his hand in the name of proving a point. “Do you feel that?”
“Do I feel what?” he asks, looking at my hand on top of his. The tips of my fingers graze against his knuckles.
“A sensation running through your body?” Or is it just me? “That’s not numbers and data. It’s a connection between humans. That’s what matters.”
Bennett dips his head. “Right. Connection.” He flips his palm up, and our fingers lock into place.
“When two people find each other and connect…it’s an inexplicable kind of magic,” I say.
It isn’t until Bennett gives my hand a light squeeze that I realize our hands are still touching. I quickly pull my hand away and tuck both between my legs. Bennett draws his hand back and rests it on his knee.
“The only magic I’m used to is the one that happens when numbers properly add up or how data can give you greater insight into making better decisions and products. Through data, we can better understand people,” Bennett explains.
I shake my head. It takes time to really know someone. Compatibility doesn’t just magically happen through computer code. “Not completely.”
I look toward the movie screen, pretending to be particularly interested in the scene. We cast side glances at each other every few seconds.
Bennett grabs the Peanut M&Ms and tilts it toward me in an offering. “Here, you can have the rest,” he says, giving the bag of candy a little shake.
“Are you sure? I don’t have anything to exchange for it,” I joke, “unless you like melted slushie.”
There’s a glimmer of amusement in Bennett’s eyes as he places the candy into the palm of my hand. “Being here with you is all I need.”
Chapter 9
There’s been a slight change of plans. No big deal. Apparently one of the panelists dropped out, and she’s being replaced. I know you did your research on everyone to ask them specific questions, but you may need to improvise a little,” Alisha says reassuringly. We stand together backstage at The Theatre at Ace Hotel, waiting for the live podcast to start.
“Do you know who it is?” I ask suspiciously. Please don’t let it be Bennett.
“They didn’t say. It’s supposed to be an all-women panel, though,” she says, as though reading my mind. “There will be four of you up there.”
I push down the growing stress about my article that was sent out yesterday. Since it went live, it’s been shared around on social media…a lot. The only reason I know is because Lunar Love has never been tagged so many times before. Good for Lunar Love. Bad for Bennett.
Still dialed in to the same wavelength, Alisha adds, “It’s a good thing you made that article anonymous with CakeGirl. I thought it read a little harsh, but it’s not like ZodiaCupid is playing fair. When I searched through the folders, that’s the only one I found. I should’ve checked with you before I sent it out. I’m so sorry.”
I wince. “You have nothing to be sorry about. It was completely my fault. I should never have put my emotions on paper like that. It was…awful.”
“Hopefully it’ll just disappear in a few days,” Alisha says. “Maybe Bennett won’t even see it. He’s busy, right?”
Not quite. I know he’s already seen it. I had to watch it live in real time as he took in the words. Words that I wrote. Even if they weren’t meant to be put out into the universe, they were. And that’s on me.
I acknowledge her optimism and attempt to refocus on being excited for the afternoon. Today, I get to focus on promoting Lunar Love and all the work we’re doing to help people find love.
“I need to compartmentalize. Right now, all I care about are my talking points.” I sneak a look out into the gilded theater and gawk at its carved columns and intricate plasterwork. Excitement slowly overtakes my anxiety. “I can’t believe we’re here, in this venue. I feel like a rockstar. How did this event attract so many people?”
“It’s about love and dating in Los Angeles,” Alisha says, “and people need guidance.”
“True. How’s my hair?” I ask, running my hand through the strands to fluff my loose waves.
“Waves still intact,” Alisha says. “Close your eyes. Okay, all set, no eyeliner or mascara smudges. I have blotting paper in my purse if you need any.”
I peek out from behind the curtain at the growing crowd.
“I keep getting bombarded with ZodiaCupid sponsored ads,” Alisha says with a sigh directed toward her phone. “That’s what you get for looking at something once. How do I report them?”
“Your expertise is going to be useful when Lunar Love finally goes social,” I say. “Social media is the biggest, most immediate move we can make right now. I’m glad I secured the social media handles for Lunar Love months ago.” Without Auntie knowing, of course, since she dismissed the idea of social media as vain and self-serving.