7. Beau
7
BEAU
“So, what’s your story?” she asks, leaning in and cutting into the key lime pie. “You come here often, buy up all the dessert to impress random girls after a storm?”
I laugh, my gaze snagging on the way her lips wrap around the tines of the fork. “Only during tornadoes, remember?” I stab my fork into the key lime pie, just to keep my hands busy. “Nah, I’m just here on a little business, passing through.”
“Oh?” she sits up a little straighter. “That’s so weird. Me too.”
I twirl my fork in the whipped cream, my head cocking to the side as I look at her. “So we’re both in Oak Creek on business and happen to come to the same drive-in theater on the same night,” I muse, letting the thought dangle.
“Don’t forget that we shared the space underneath the table during a tornado,” she says with a chuckle.
“That’s not all we shared,” I murmur quietly. I tell myself it’s just some harmless flirting.
Her cheeks pinken and her gaze darts to my mouth. “Small world, hm?”
I run my tongue along the back of my front teeth with a small shake of my head. “Nah, Peach, that’s what we call fate .”
“Fate?”
“Divine intervention. Serendipity. Kismet.”
“I know what fate means,” she says dryly. “I’m just not sure I believe in it much.”
“You don’t think there’s a reason for everything? A predetermined destiny?”
She exhales, and I can almost see a physical weight wrapped around her shoulders. “No. I think we make our own luck. But sometimes . . . sometimes, you draw the short straw.”
I lean back, studying her. "Sounds like you've had your fair share of short straws."
She shrugs, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Who hasn’t? Life’s not always rainbows and butterflies.”
“No, it sure as hell isn’t,” I agree, my voice low and rough. “But without the bad shit, how would we recognize today?”
Her eyes meet mine, searching, questioning. “Today?”
I gesture between us with my fork. “The good stuff. Two strangers, crossing paths in the most unlikely of ways. Who knows what could happen next?”
She raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing across her features. “If you’re expecting to hook up in the middle of the drive-in, you’re gonna be disappointed, playboy.”
My nose wrinkles at the moniker, despite its accuracy. “ Reformed playboy.”
“Ah,” she tsks. “Let me guess: you took one look at me and mended your ways or whatever line of bullshit you feed to women?”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “You got me all wrong, Peach.” Well, not about being a playboy. That shit was right on the money. But I’ve never used lines—this one or any others—on a woman in my life. I’ve never needed to.
When I was racing in the circuit, women flocked to any driver like a bee on honey. They didn’t give a fuck about me, so I never felt too bad about not calling them afterward.
She hums under her breath, her fork toying with the last crumbles of pie crust on her plate. She lifts it to her mouth, and I find myself transfixed by the way her lips close around the utensil. It's such an innocuous action, but with her, it feels strangely intimate.
She sets her fork down with a quiet clink and looks up at me. I can see it written all over her face. She’s gonna leave. “Well, this has been . . . interesting.”
Panic flares in my chest at her words, sudden and unexpected. I’m not ready for her to go yet. There’s something about being in her presence that soothes the restlessness inside me. Most days, it’s a yawning, endless cavern that spotlights the tediousness of my life.
But not tonight. Not with her enchanting whiskey gold eyes and her plush lips. Her musical laugh and her dry humor.
I search for the right words, something to keep her here just a little longer. “Take a walk with me.”
She regards me with a skeptical look, her brow furrowed. “A walk? Where?”
I lean back in my seat, forcing a casual smirk that I don’t feel. “The night’s young, and the weather’s nice. Let me give you the grand tour of the Oak Creek Drive-In.”
She hesitates for a moment, her fingers drumming lightly on the table. I can practically see the gears turning in her head. “Alright. Let’s go for a walk.”
I slip a hundred under the strawberry rhubarb pie plate, more than enough to cover our food, and hustle Peach outside. How this place stays open has always been a mystery to me. I’m not even sure what their hours are, except that they always seem to be open. I’ve been here a few times before, though it’s never been quite this eventful.
The air feels charged, heavy with static but still. Like the night sky is holding its breath, waiting to see if I’m gonna fuck this up with this girl.
We fall into step beside each other, walking along the worn dirt path that winds around the clearing. The air is thick with the smell of oncoming rain and lilacs. Fireflies blink in and out of existence, tiny pinpricks of light against the inky backdrop of the night sky.
My hands feel clammy, nerves prickling under my skin like champagne bubbles. It's a foreign sensation—I can't remember the last time I felt nervous around a woman.
She steps closer to me, her shoulder brushing against my bicep. “What was your favorite pie?” she asks, her voice slicing through the silence. “We never ended up rating them.”
“Peach.”
Her head tilts to the side, her brows dipping low over her eyes as she glances at me. “I don’t think that was an option.”
I let my face fall into something that I hope resembles genuine confusion. “Oh, huh. Weird, because I distinctly remember the taste of peaches on my tongue.”
She stops walking and glances at me. “You flirting with me, playboy?”
I clasp my palm over my heart, like I’m wounded. “Damn, Peach, if you have to ask, then I’m definitely not doing it right.”
She bumps her shoulder into me with a soft laugh. “I guess you better step up your game, hm?”
Fuck it. I stop overthinking and do what feels natural. I drape my arm over her shoulders, casual enough to not be stifling. My girl doesn’t miss a beat, continuing our stroll around the parking lot.
“If you could go anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?”
“Here,” I answer immediately. It sounds like a fucking line, but no one is more surprised than me to realize I mean it.
I throw my right hand out, gesturing to everything around us.
The LED flood lights bathe the entire clearing in a soft yellow glow, and the diner’s neon red and teal sign shines like a beacon in the night.
“You’ve got fresh air, an incredible view, and live entertainment. It’s perfect here.” The cicadas, crickets, and even a couple of bullfrogs lend their voices like I’m in my very own Disney movie or some shit. I half expect a particular crustacean to appear next to me and start singing about kissing the girl.
Not that I need any encouragement in that department. The way her body is pressed up against mine, the scent of her shampoo wafting up to my nose, the soft warmth of her skin under my fingertips. It’s all I can do not to spin her around and capture her lips with my own.
She tilts her head back to look up at me, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I don’t know. I think Hawaii sounds pretty nice right about now.”
“Hawaii’s overrated. It doesn’t have these skies.” I tip my head back, letting the starlight from hundreds of stars enlighten me.
“Maybe. But it does have warm sandy beaches and fresh pineapple. And bikinis.”
The image of her in a bikini pops into my head, albeit using a healthy dose of my imagination.
“You’re right. Fuck Oak Creek. Let’s go to Hawaii.” I turn us toward my truck, picking up my pace like I’m gonna drive us there right now. It’s ridiculous, and I feel like a cheesy fuck. But then she laughs.
It’s this musical twinkling noise that sounds like the way winning feels. How fucking weird is that? I think I could survive on a steady diet of her laughter.
She slows to a stop at the bed of my truck, twisting to face me. My arm slips from around her shoulders, but our fingers remain clasped together.
“Ah, so we’re gonna go to Hawaii together now? And what exactly are you going to put on the travel reservations, hm?”
I take my cap off and set it on her head. The bill falls low, shielding her eyes from me. “If you want my name, baby, all you have to do is ask.”
She arches her neck and gives me her face. “What’s your name?”
“Beau.”
Her lips curl into a smile as she repeats my name. "Beau. I like it. It suits you." She adjusts the cap on her head, pushing the bill up so I can see her eyes again. Those mesmerizing eyes that seem to see right through me.
"And what about you? What name should I put down for my travel companion ?" I ask, my thumb absentmindedly stroking the back of her hand that's still entwined with mine.
“Travel companion?” She scoffs, sinking her top teeth into her bottom lip.
“Don’t ruin it for me now, Peach. Gotta keep the dream alive, yeah?”
“What if it’s terrible?” Her voice is soft, a whisper threading through the night air.
“Your name? No chance. Nothing about you could ever be terrible.”
Her amusement quiets, her face softening as she looks at me. “What if your mom and I share the same name? Or your sister? That might be a deal-breaker.”
The idea of calling out one of my family member’s names while she’s riding my face isn’t ideal, but a deal-breaker? I don’t think so. Still, I’ll play along. “I see your point. As long as your name isn’t Hazel, Abbigail, Coraline, or Josephine, we’re good. Shit. I guess Elizabeth and Evangeline and Virginia too.”
Her brows rise higher with every name I rattle off. “That’s a lot of women in your family.”
“It’s a big family.” I pause, dying to put a name to the gorgeous face I’ve been staring at for the last several hours. “You plannin’ to keep me waiting all night?”
She looks up at me from underneath her lashes and pushes up onto her tiptoes. She still doesn’t come close to my face, our height difference is enough that I need to lean down. Which I’ll happily do anytime if it means I get to kiss those sweet lips again.
“Eloise,” she breathes out, her lips dragging against mine with each syllable.
My breath hitches with the contact, and I feel like a fucking thirteen-year-old again. “Fucking perfect.” The words come out as a grunted hush. I give her a second to pull back, but when she doesn’t, I take her mouth with mine.
It’s a soft kiss. An exploratory one. Not that it lacks any of the heat of our earlier kiss under the table.
We pull back from one another at the same time. Her eyes are slow to open, her lashes a dark smudge against her sun-kissed cheeks.
Goddamn, she is so fucking pretty though.
Time stretches on, and before I know it, we’re in the back of my pickup truck, a couple of blankets spread out beneath us as we stare up at the sky. The stars twinkle overhead, clearer than I’ve ever seen them in years. My late grandpa taught me about the stars when I was young. He told me that if I ever get lost, I can look to the sky, and it’ll guide me home.
I point up at the stars, drawing lines in the air to connect the bright spots. “See those stars right there?” I say, my voice low. “That’s Andromeda.”
“Andromeda,” she repeats, her gaze following my finger. “What’s her story?”
I prop myself up on my elbow, my shoulder brushing hers, and look at her before glancing back up at the sky. “Legend says she was a princess, chained to a rock as a sacrifice. All because her parents messed up and offended the gods. So she’s paying for their mistakes.”
“Sounds about right,” she huffs an unamused laugh, a quiet, warm sound that’s perfect against the backdrop of the night. But as I keep going, her eyes soften.
“Yeah, but there’s a twist.” I pause, watching her face as I talk, noticing the way the starlight reflects in her eyes. “Perseus, a hero with his own mess of problems, comes to rescue her. He doesn’t have to. He could walk away, but he decides to risk everything to save her.”
She shifts, tucking her arm under her head as she watches me. “And they end up together?”
I smirk, glancing back at the stars. “Yeah. They’re fated. Doesn’t matter how impossible it is or how many things tell them to stay away. Perseus doesn’t care what it costs him. He just . . . couldn’t leave her.”
I look back at her, and for a second, the world feels smaller, like it’s just us and a handful of stars. Her face is turned toward me, close enough that I can see every little detail. “Why that story?” she asks, her voice soft, like she’s afraid of breaking whatever’s between us.
I shrug, trying to keep my tone casual, though I feel my pulse pick up. “Guess I like the idea of it.” What would it feel like to love something so much that you’re willing to sacrifice everything for them? What would it feel like to be on the receiving end of that kind of devotion?
She goes quiet, but her eyes stay on mine, and it feels like the air between us is thickening, filling with words we’re not saying.
It’s peaceful here, lying under the stars with a woman I barely know, but somehow feel connected to. Like we’ve shared something special, rare.
The night is slipping away though, and as the sky begins to lighten with the first hints of dawn, reality starts to creep back in. The weight of responsibility, the things I need to do, the life I need to return to.
My eyelids are heavy, but my body feels strangely awake, buzzing with the kind of energy I associate with racing. I scoot down to the edge of the truck bed. “I’m gonna hit the bathroom. Don’t go anywhere, Peach.”
“Wait.” Her hand lands on my forearm.
I pause as she knee-walks a few steps toward me. She leans in and plants a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth. I turn toward her just a half-inch, enough to capture her mouth in a kiss sweet enough to make my stomach ache.
It’s over before it goes anywhere, and I leave her in the back of my truck as I jog toward the bathroom building. That ache doesn’t go away, spreading into something more acute. I don’t even bother drying my hands, jogging outside in record time.
But I already know it’s too late.
She’s gone.