The Idea of You & Me, I

             The Idea of You & Me, I

 romance stories

saeglopur just a girl with terrible taste in boys
Autoplay OFF   •   2 years ago
Vignettes about the boy I shouldn't want, but do.

The Idea of You & Me, I

"You're going to talk through this whole movie, aren't you?" he asks, his question more teasing than annoyed.

I shrug my shoulders as I settle into the corner of the couch. "I kinda warned you that I would." He laughs quietly, shaking his head, as he starts the movie and takes the other side of the couch, covering himself in the blanket draped over the side.

"So why can't I have a blanket?" I ask again. He answers, "Because you said you fall asleep during movies. And a blanket would only encourage that."

I nod my head. "Yeah, but that'd rid you of the talking problem." He shrugs. "Who said the talking was a problem."

I furrow my brows but don't say anything. I decide that the flirty intonation I think I hear in his voice is actually just a figment of my imagination.

Five minutes into the film, I find myself repeating, "It's not a shark, it's not a shark" in a Boston accent as I tend to do whenever I watch the opening scene.

"That didn't sound like a Boston accent," he says. "At all." "It totally did. Don't be a hater." I don't have to look to know he just rolled his eyes.

I say dramatically, "I'm freezing here. Like titanic level freezing! Jack Dawson level freezing." This time I do look and catch the massive eye roll.

"I've never seen titanic," he says as he throws the blanket at me. It covers me more than him, but it would still be considered sharing. We are sharing a blanket.

"How?" I exclaim with more fervor than I should, trying to focus on that and not the fact we're sharing a blanket. "Titanic is a classic." "It's really not."

"Whattttt. You're crazy. If you don't start watching more movies all of my references are going to go over your head. Which just takes away from the experience of talking to me."

He says, "I'm glad you recognize talking to you is an experience." "A pleasant experience," I retort, matter of factly. 
 "Eh, I don't know about that."

"You don't have to know it. I'm telling you." Before he can respond, I add, "Listen, you're gonna miss out on all the great lines in this movie if you keep talking." "You're kidding right?"

He doesn't sound as exasperated as I think he wants to, more amused than anything. I play dumb. "No, this movie has some seriously great lines. The screenplays excellent."

Out of the corner of my eye I see him shake his head and I can't help grinning.

For a moment, I entertain the idea of him and me.

We're about half way through the movie, when he says, disgruntled, "You're hogging the blanket."

I'm laughing as I say, "I really hoped you wouldn't notice. Listen I need to be wrapped like a sushi roll to really enjoy a movie."

"You're hogging the blanket," he says again. "I need to swaddled." "Because you're an infant."

I roll my eyes and slide closer to him so I can wrap myself tortilla-style with the blanket, without stealing it from him, completely. "You don't even need the blanket! You're giving off so much body heat as it is."

He glances at me, and winks. "The blankets for comfort." My jaw drops. "You're infuriating. Watch the movie."

I think I could kiss this boy and he could break my heart. And I wouldn't even care.

But that's the problem, you see, with ideas.

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