"What's your cat's name?"
He laughed. "Fred."
"Fred?"
"Yeah, like Fred Flintstone. I'm a huge Flintstones fan."
"I've heard of the cartoon, but I've never seen it," I admitted.
"That makes my heart weep," he said, clutching his chest dramatically. "I will have to rectify that."
"Okay, so what's a girl name from the show?"
"Fred's wife's name is Wilma."
"Wilma?" I asked with disbelief. "Are you a Wilma?" I asked the kitten who gave a plaintive meow.
"Sounds like she likes it to me."
"Wilma it is," I said, setting her back on my lap.
"I'm going to go get the rest of her stuff; that way she can explore the cottage and know where her litter box is," Nathan said, patting Wilma on the head before heading back outside.
We had a little time before we had to leave, so Wilma and I got to know each other. She was a smart kitten and showed off by using her litter box as soon as I placed her in it.
"We better head out," Nathan finally said, glancing at his watch.
"Is it okay to leave her?" I asked worriedly.
"Cats are amazingly sufficient. I bet she'll sleep the whole time we're gone and then keep us up half the night trying to play," he said, wrapping his arms around me from behind. "Besides, if we don't head out, I may have to dine on your appetizing neck," he said, placing a kiss there.
"Hmmm, I'm not sure if I should be flattered or not, being compared to food," I said laughing as I stepped out of his arms. "Besides, you already promised me a movie, so your meal will have to wait. I already perused the show times and have the perfect chick flick picked out for us to see," I teased, grabbing my purse and cellphone off the couch. I ran my hand over Wilma's back one last time where she was curled up asleep in a ball on my couch.
"That's fine. I can think of plenty of things I could do to you in a dark theater," he threw my way, making me stumble as pictures of what he could do also filled my head.
He laughed at my expression, linking his fingers through mine. "Kidding. I'm sure the theater will be packed today, but it is fun to think about what we could do if we did have a theater to ourselves," he added.
"Have you ever?" I asked, morbidly curious about his past experiences.
"Done it in a theater?" he asked, opening the vehicle door.
I nodded, climbing in and buckling my seatbelt.
"No, and until you, I never even had the thought," he said, closing the door on my startled expression.
The forty-mile drive to the theater passed quickly as Nathan peppered me with questions about my childhood. He steered clear of anything painful that involved my mom, and instead focused on what high school had been like for me. I skirted around my illness and filled him in on what it had been like before I'd gotten sick, back when I thought my toughest problem was trying out for the cheerleading squad. I was still answering his endless questions when he pulled into the parking lot of the theater.
"So, what chick flick did you pick?" he asked.
"The one with the horse," I said innocently, pointing to a poster where a young girl was hugging the neck of a black stallion.
"Really?" he asked.
"Sure, why does it not look good to you?" I asked, trying to not snicker and give myself away.
"Almost as good as getting a root canal," he said, studying the poster hard as if he was hoping to find a demon hiding in it or something that would at least redeem it a little.
I doubled over laughing at the expression on his face. "I was kidding," I said between my peals of laughter. "I want to see the spy movie," I said when I was finally able to talk clearly.