Dad's Nerdy New Boyfriend

Chapter 2

The movie theater entrance was inside the shopping mall’s food court, a stupid design if Rick ever saw one. As soon as they stepped through the glass doors, Micah started to drift in the direction of McDonald’s, drawn by the scent of hot french fries wafting towards them. But Rick grabbed his arm and steered him back into the middle of the wide center aisle.

“Nuh-uh, mister,” Rick said with a shake of his head. “You can have popcorn once we’re in the movies.”

“Daaaad!” Micah whined, but only for show. He loved hot, buttery popcorn, and would take it over french fries any day.

Once they were past Micky D’s, he shook off Rick’s hand, and Rick let him go. They might be about to watch a cartoon movie, and Rick secretly had to admit it was a little babyish, but the boy had to hold onto some semblance of pride.

Rick dug his cell phone out of his pocket to check his messages—he’d taken off from work, but that didn’t mean he actually had to pay attention to the movie. As a self-employed web designer, he could set his own hours, but they tended to overlap a lot, work bleeding into every other aspect of his life. He tried to keep things separate, of course, particularly when he had Micah around, but the thought of sitting through two hours of animated nonsense was enough to send him reaching for his phone. Surely one of his clients had a pressing problem that needed his attention right this minute…

“Oh, no. Dad, look.” Micah tugged at Rick’s sleeve to get his attention.

Distracted, Rick glanced up and looked around the crowded mall. “What is it, bud?”

“The line,” Micah whined. “It’s so long.”

Rick did a double take. It was long—he’d expected a few parents, a couple of kids, if that. Yeah, it was Saturday, and the first weekend for this silly flick, but come on. It wasn’t like it was the next Iron Man movie or anything.

Though if Robert Downey, Jr., was in this, I’d be more pumped to see it, Rick thought, eyeing the line that wrapped around and around in front of the theater’s box office. RDJ was hot as s**t, and Rick would pay to watch that man in almost anything. Absently he scanned the movie posters on the nearby walls, hoping to catch a glimpse of his Hollywood crush. Maybe if this one was sold out…

“Daddy!” Micah yanked hard on Rick’s shirt. “What if we can’t get a ticket? What then? You said I could see the movie! You said we could see it today!”

Under his breath, Rick muttered, “Two minutes ago, you didn’t even want to get out of the car.”

Micah peered up at him, eyes filling with tears. “This is my favorite movie ever.”

“You don’t know that yet,” Rick scoffed. “Just…get in line, will you? It’s showing on two screens, okay? Calm down. Jesus. We’ll see the damn movie.”

“Today?” Micah pressed. “You said—”

“Yes!” Rick snapped. “Today! But only if you get in line now.”

With a grin, Micah ducked under the velvet rope that hung in front of the box office and served as a guide for those waiting in line to buy tickets.

“Walk all the way around,” Rick chastised.

It was too late. Micah had already shoved his way to the end of the line, and now beamed at his father from behind everyone else. “Come on!” Micah cried.

A woman with two rowdy children of her own gave Rick a sympathetic look as he trudged after his son. “What is it about Pokémon, eh?” she asked as Rick went by.

“Tell me about it,” he muttered.

“Dad!” Micah called, punctuating the word with a frantic wave.

“I’m coming,” Rick assured him. “I can’t just climb under the rope like you did.”

Micah frowned comically. “Why not?”

Deep breaths, Rick reminded himself. Somehow we’ll get through this. How long could the damn movie last, anyway?

When he reached the end of the line where his son waited, he tousled Micah’s hair. “Hey!” Micah tried to swat Rick’s hand away, but Rick had already pulled it out of reach. Jumping up and down, filled with nervous energy only an eight-year-old could have so early in the day, Micah peered around the people queued up in front of him and sighed dramatically. “How long do you think this will take?”

Rick shrugged and went back to checking his email on his phone. “Don’t worry. They won’t start the show before we get in.”

“I want to sit in the very front row!” Micah cried.

“Lower your voice,” Rick told him absently. “Nobody wants to listen to you while they’re waiting to buy their tickets.”

Micah tried to turn in mid-jump and staggered against the rope instead. “Dad, what if they sell out by the time we get up to the window?”

“They won’t,” Rick assured him. “Stop jumping. You’re going to fall and hurt yourself.”

“I’m not.” As if to prove it, Micah jumped and tried to spin again, only to stumble again. This time he landed on Rick’s foot.

Rick caught his son’s shoulder and gripped it, hard, until Micah looked up at him. “Then you’re going to hurt me. I said stop, or we can go back to the car right now. Do you want to see this movie or not?”

Micah’s lower lip trembled. “Sorry,” he mumbled, sounding anything but. Then he noticed Rick’s phone, and his whole face lit up. “Can I play Pokémon GO on your phone?”

“I don’t…” Rick sighed. “Will you just give me two minutes, please? I’m checking my email, that’s it. As soon as I make sure there are no fires to put out, I’ll put it away, I promise.”

There came Micah’s frown again. “You make websites, Daddy. You’re not a fireman. Why would they email you if there’s a fire to put out?”

Obviously I’m not going to get any work done today. Why do I even bother trying? Rick closed his mail app and locked his screen. “There,” he said, pocketing the phone. “Done. No fires, no emails. I’m all yours. Why isn’t the line moving?”

Micah shrugged and stood on his tiptoes in an exaggerated attempt to peer around the people ahead of them. He teetered on his toes, holding onto the velvet rope for support, but when it swung out too far, he put his hand on the back of the guy in front of him.

The man turned. He was about Rick’s age, with a full head of dark hair that swirled in all directions in the worst case of bedhead Rick had seen on someone too old not to still be in college. He had bright blue eyes behind a pair of square, dark-framed glasses that gave him a nerdy, Harry Potter look, and wore a navy peacoat and jeans.

Life after Hogwarts, Rick thought. “Sorry about that,” he said, pulling Micah back. “My son is a little eager to get the show on the road.”

The man smiled down at Micah. “Me, too,” he admitted, speaking directly to the boy. “Who’s your favorite Pokémon?”

In a shy voice so at odds with the loud boy Rick knew from a moment before, Micah admitted, “Pikachu.” The man nodded, as if he’d expected as much. Suddenly Micah added, “I also like the Legendary Birds. Articuno’s my favorite, but I like Zapdos and Moltres, too. Those are the ones I want to catch most of all. I heard someone found the code for them in Pokémon GO, but no one’s caught them yet, so I don’t know if they’re really out there or what. And you can’t find anything with them on it, like nothing, so I always say Pikachu because he’s on everything, and his tail reminds me a little of Zapdos since it’s shaped like lightning.”

Rick laughed, surprised to see his usually reticent son suddenly opening up to a complete stranger. “Wow, looks like someone’s found a new friend.”

The man gave Rick a smile that made those blue eyes of his sparkle behind his glasses in a very un-nerdy-like way. “I’m Marty,” he said, holding out a hand for Rick to shake. “Marty Owens.”

“Rick Pruitt.”

His grip was firm and sure, his palm cool. Rick found his initial assessment of the man improving. His smile was infectious, his glasses were hip…hell, even his disheveled hair looked cool, possibly a little sexy.

Easy, tiger, Rick thought. He’s a guy like you, here with his kids to watch a stupid cartoon movie about made-up characters. Don’t start hitting on him. You know he’s straight.

Marty smiled down at Micah and, surprisingly, held out his hand again. “And you are?”

The shyness resurfaced. “Micah,” Rick’s son whispered.

“Micah,” Marty said. “Nice to meet you. And, for the record, my favorite Pokémon is Eevee.”

“What’s your favorite eeveelution?” Micah asked, his shyness disappearing again.

Marty rocked back on his heels and seemed to think a moment. “Hmm, tough one. They all have their merits. Umbreon looks cool, but I think Espeon has the best special attack.”

“What about from the original three?” Micah wanted to know. “Jolteon is cool.”

With a grin, Marty remarked, “You’re lightning through and through, aren’t you?”

Rick looked from man to boy and back again. “Why do I feel like you’re both suddenly speaking a foreign language I don’t understand?”

They both laughed. Then Marty asked, “Hey, can I show you something?” He directed the question to Micah, who nodded, then glanced at Rick for confirmation.

Rick shrugged. He wasn’t sure what to make of the guy. There was no one with him, Rick knew that by now—no little boy or girl waiting in line with Daddy to see the Pokémon movie; this fellow was here by himself. Get a good look, Rick thought, watching Marty bend over to pull up one leg of his jeans. This is Micah in twenty years. Susan should be here to see this. I guarantee it’d stop her from buying him anymore Poké-s**t.

Inch by inch, the denim rolled up, exposing a colorful tattoo. Micah gasped, but Rick couldn’t make out what it was. Some sort of cartoon character…God, no. Pokémon, of course. Still, he had to ask. “What is it supposed to be?”

“Your son knows,” Marty said.

“It’s the eeveelutions,” Micah sighed.

The whole tattoo was visible now, taking up Marty’s entire calf. What looked like a cartoon fox sat in the middle of eight other fantasy creatures, all vaguely similar in design, but with differing features and colors that made it obvious at a glance that they were not foxes. They must have been…what did Micah call them? Eevees. Rick shook his head. Christ.

Micah reached out, entranced, but Rick pulled him back before he could touch Marty’s leg. “I want a tattoo like that!”

“Yeah, I’m going to have to say no,” Rick told him.

Micah started, “But Dad—”

“Not until you’re eighteen,” Rick said. “Your mother would kill me. Oh look, the line’s moving.”

It wasn’t, but saying so had the desired effect. Marty rolled down his pants leg and turned back around, and Micah edged past him to move ahead. Way to cut in front of your new friend, Rick thought, shaking his head. When it became obvious the line wasn’t moving—what was the hold-up here?—Rick dug out his phone and went back to his email.

As cute as Marty might be, no way was Rick interested. The guy had a Pokémon tattoo, for the love of God. It was bad enough Rick had to listen to his son talk about that nonsense; he didn’t need to date someone who went on and on about it, too.