Wrath of Khan was a go-to movie for Sage and me. We could talk, drink and even play cards during it. Because we had both seen it so many times, we never actually lost track of the plot. I cleared the dishes and put away the rest of the pizza while Sage stayed in the living room and helpfully conveyed, at the top of his lungs, what I was missing on the screen. “Kirk just did that thing you hate, and it still didn’t work!” “Thank you!” I yelled back to him. “I don’t need you to do that.” “Do you want some help in there?” “No! I’ve got it.” “Are you sure?” I jumped at the feel of his hand on my shoulder. “How the fuck did you get out here so fast?” “You’re apartment isn’t that big, darling,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s like fourteen steps from the sofa to the kitchen. Do you want some help?” I looked up into his eyes and again noticed that dark look. This time, I was sure I hadn’t imagined it. I shook my head, not trusting my voice for a moment.
