“Yeah, well, I always have been. It was kind of my outlet from the real world when I was growing up.”
“I've met Martin Scorsese, you know,” he said with a smile. “Worked with James Cameron, as well. Great guy, James. He's very into saving the environment these days.”
I crooked up on corner of my mouth and then drank a sip of champagne. “You aren't trying to impress me by name-dropping, are you?” I asked with a wink.
He laughed. “Maybe,” he replied with a subtle smile. “Maybe I was.”
I edged a little closer to him on the sofa without thinking about it, instinctively. I didn't remember consciously choosing to do so. Still, it felt right, somehow.
“All right, well since you're in the mood for something classic, but you didn't say just how classic, I'm going to pick a decade,” I said. “And, I'm going to go with the ’80s. How does that sound?”
“I'm an ’80s baby, so, that sounds perfect.”
“All right, let's see what Netflix has to offer in that category. Hmm, we've got Groundhog Day, Batman, Sixteen Candles, Willow, Return of the Jedi, The Breakfast Club, Die Hard, The Terminator . . . Anything jumping out at you?”
Asher took a sip of his champagne before answering. “You know, I've never seen The Breakfast Club—and references to it get dropped so often that I feel like I'm missing out. It's one of those I’ve always meant to see, but never got around to.”
“Wow. I feel like I should be giving you grief right now. We must remedy this injustice. Jeez. I thought it was a requirement to have seen The Breakfast Club at least three times if you grew up in the ’80s.”
“Well, how many times have you seen it?”
“Hmmm . . . at least a dozen. And, I've been meaning to watch it again for ages. Tell you what, I've got some popcorn in the kitchen. I'll go whip up a batch—the old fashioned way on the stove, with loads of butter and salt, of course.”
He laughed. “That sounds awesome! Didn't take you for someone who enjoys spending much time in the kitchen.”
“It's not really my thing, but you need to understand how seriously I take movies! A movie is not a movie without real popcorn. Not that microwave, pre-flavored crap!”
“All right, all right. You go whip it up. I'll wait here,” he laughed.
I got up and headed to the kitchen. The weight of his stare followed me. When I'd gotten home, I'd changed out of my work attire into something more comfortable: a simple jeans and T-shirt combo. While I knew he’d stolen many a glance at me at the office dressed in my business suits—after all, I picked them to accentuate my curves—it was flattering to know that when I was dressed more simply, he still couldn't resist looking when he didn’t think I was watching.
While I was making the popcorn in the kitchen, his voice came echoing through from the living room. “Lilah, the champagne's done, and I'm still kinda thirsty. You got anything else here or should I have a courier deliver us something?”
I paused for a moment before I answered. I was already feeling a little buzzed from the two bottles of champagne we'd already had. With all these feelings starting to boil over, I wasn't sure what would happen if I got more alcohol in me and had my inhibitions lowered even more.
But I didn’t particularly care at the moment.
“I have some vodka in the freezer and freshly squeezed orange juice I picked up this afternoon. We could make screwdrivers, if you'd like?”
“Screwdrivers! I don't think I've had one of those in years. That sounds good.”
“I'll bring it all out with the popcorn.”
“Sounds great!”
I paused for a moment, taking note of how surreal the situation around me was. I had, sitting on my sofa, one of the most powerful men in the PR industry, a man who had become a billionaire by age 20, the CEO of the corporation in which I'd landed my dream job. We were about to eat popcorn and drink Screwdrivers together like a couple of broke college kids.
I couldn't help giggling.
“What are you laughing at in there?” Asher’s voice echoed from the living room.
“Nothing, nothing at all,” I replied, doing my best to stifle the laughs.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah . . . if you say so,” he replied. “I can smell that popcorn, by the way! It's starting to smell like a movie theater in here!”
“You can start the movie,” I said. “The first bit is just a song and credits.”