When I Leave, and Other Broken Promises

The Movies and Other Simulated Double Dates

Candice regretted not contacting Will sooner almost immediately, mostly because he was a natural co-conspirator. He'd shown up at her doorstep at precisely 8:30 pm on Friday night (a comfortable fifteen minutes prior to Curt's scheduled arrival) and asked, rather nonchalantly:

"So, how are we gonna play this?" with a little smirk.

"What do you mean?" she'd returned, somewhat sheepishly. Had he known coming into this that he was merely going to be acting as pawn to manipulate Curt? Were her motives really that obvious?

"Oh, come on," he eyed her evenly, "I think we both know why I'm here."

Her gaze met his, then, and the two measured each other for a beat. His eyes looked into hers, challenging her. She knew, then, that Will knew the score. She had her man.

"I underestimated you, Will Adams. I'm not ashamed to say so."

"That doesn't surprise me. Everyone underestimates the evil genius. That's why he's always within minutes of taking over the world before anyone tries to stop him."

"Good point," Candice nodded.

"I think the word you're looking for is touché," he countered.

"That's so not appropriate in this context," she returned.

"I beg to differ," he replied, his nose raised in a feigned haughty manner. Then he added, "But, for real. What are we doing?"

"I think we need to play this very carefully," Candice began, "I don't wanna do anything too crazy."

"Obviously," Will agreed before adding, "the idea is to make him a little jealous not drive him completely over the edge."

"Right. I just want Curt to see that he's not the poker face he thinks he is. That's all. What do you think? How are we gonna do this? I mean, you obviously know guys better than I do."

"I think we need to push him a little, honestly. Make him a little uncomfortable, ya know? I'm thinking make-out session in the back seat of his car or something. Are you up for that?"

He eyed her with an odd mix of seriousness and playfulness. She returned his look with a certain measure of skepticism. Part of her wasn't sure if he'd suggested the make-out session because he really thought it would push Curt over the edge, or because he wanted to cop a feel in the back of Curt's Honda. What to do... what to do? In the end, she decided to hear him out.

"Okay.... But, how are we gonna make this look convincing?" she asked, her face serious but mischievous, "I mean, it's not as though I've had a lot of experience."

"Good point," he nodded, "we're gonna have to practice."

"Practice?" she crinkled her nose at him.

"Yeah. Ya know, practice," he answered, looking at her as though his meaning was obvious.

"Alright. How exactly does one 'practice' a make-out session?" she asked, making quotation marks with her fingers.

"Before this goes any further I'd like to go on record as saying that any further use of the word 'one' is strictly prohibited. No discussion," he remarked, one eyebrow raised.

"Really? I thought you wanted to be all 'English spy' about this," she chuckled, "that wasn't what we were going for?"

"Hmmm... no," he shook his head in mock seriousness. Then he moved toward the couch and sat down, "Come here."