genre, like that the films are vapid or sexist, or that they create unrealistic relationship expectations or encourage abusive behavior. None of those criticisms mean anything to me because I don’t think they’re true. But it stings when people complain about the genre’s lack of diversity because they’re obviously correct. There are romantic comedies about people who aren’t white and straight—lots of amazing ones—but they typically have small budgets and even smaller marketing campaigns, so people often don’t know they exist. It’s awesome that successful rom-coms like Crazy Rich Asians and To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before are changing things, but there’s no denying that the rom-com classics of my youth are pathetically homogenous.
But Drew Danforth probably doesn’t care about my thoughts on this, so I just nod.
“Tommy’s wife is black, and he wanted to make a movie that reflected their relationship, so that’s why he was drawn to this movie even though he hasn’t done a rom-com since the ’90s.”
“Oh,” I say, impressed that Drew knows all this.
“Plus,” he says around his straw, “who could miss the chance to hang out in beautiful Columbus, Ohio?”
“Need I remind you that going to McDonald’s was your decision?” I ask. “Columbus has plenty of fine dining. And museums! And parks! And an award-winning zoo! And—”
He holds up a hand, annoying smile back on his face. “I was kidding, Annie.”
Blood rushes to my cheeks. Something about the way my name rolls off his tongue, so familiar, makes me feel like I’ve already heard him say it a thousand times before, instead of just once during this conversation.
I shake my head. “I hate city snobs like you. The ones who act like everyone who isn’t from New York or LA is some kind of hick. You probably use the phrase ‘fly-over country,’ don’t you?”
“I don’t . . . no! For God’s sake, I’m from Shreveport, Louisiana!” Drew says, eyes wide. “For the record, Columbus is now my favorite city in the world.”
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t overdo it.”
“I love it here. I’m going to move here,” he says. “I want to be buried here.”
“In this McDonald’s? If you keep eating like that, it might be a possibility.”
He rolls his eyes. “Let’s get out of here. Early call time tomorrow.”
He grabs my tray before I can make a move for it. On our way out, he stops to shake hands with the table of teenagers.
“I can see how much you hate the attention,” I say as we go out the door.
“I’m being nice,” he says, giving me a wry look.
“Right,” I mutter as I get back into his absurdly fancy car.
Chapter Nine
I pregame for my date with Barry by watching The Shop Around the Corner. It might seem like a bad idea to watch a romantic comedy before a date, and it’s certainly setting a high bar to expect Barry to have the charm of an in-his-prime James Stewart, but it’s one of my favorites. It’s the original You’ve Got Mail, but with letters instead of dial-up internet.
Through a series of nondescript texts, Barry and I agree to meet at, where else, Nick’s. Barry doesn’t do anything egregious, like use that weird winking emoji or request nudes, but he also isn’t exactly a master of the form. I know I shouldn’t be expecting The Shop Around the Corner letters or You’ve Got Mail e-mails, but in a perfect world, I would like something a little more than “hey, waz up?”
Waz up. A truly baffling spelling in this, the age of the predictive text. I’ll be wondering how and why he spelled it like that all night.
But I try my hardest not to judge. Although I fully believe that my Tom Hanks is out there somewhere, I have to live in the real world, like Chloe said. And maybe in the real world, most of the men are like Sandra Bullock’s weird neighbor in While You Were Sleeping, not like Bill Pullman in While You Were Sleeping. Maybe all the cute guys are actually big jerks who make fun of your job and your city and your totally normal romantic comedy obsession.
As the movie ends, I have to fight the urge to stay home all evening. It’s just that the couch in our living room is truly one of my favorite places on this Earth. It’s big and so soft that you sink into it when you sit down, which means it’s easy to convince yourself you should stay put. It’s been here since I