Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
Beckett Harrington
When Asher mentioned that we should all go on a real date and explore a romantic side to our relationship, I thought it was a joke.
We had used sex as a conduit for our feelings, something physical and uncomplicated, a language made of skin and breath and tangled sheets, and I was okay with continuing that.
It was easier to let emotion hide behind touch, easier to pretend that what we were doing was casual when it lived mostly in dim bedrooms and late-night conversations.
I didn’t need dates to know my feelings were real.
I felt it every time we watched movies on the couch and our knees brushed together without either of us moving away.
I felt it when Asher gave us cooking lessons, his hands guiding ours as he showed us how to dice onions properly, his voice patient and soft even when we messed it up.
I felt it on the quiet mornings when he woke up early and made breakfast for us, leaving plates on the counter like small, edible declarations.
Food was Asher’s love language—carefully plated and thoughtfully seasoned—and quality time was mine, measured in shared silence and the way someone chose to stay instead of leave.
So the idea of a date felt unnecessary. Almost theatrical. Like putting a label on something that was already quietly growing roots. I had called them my boyfriends to my mom, and they knew it. We had been sexually exclusive for months. We told each other that we belonged to each other.
But here we were, early November, standing outside a movie theater.
The air carried that crisp bite that only shows up in late fall, cold enough to sting your nose but not cold enough to justify gloves. The neon lights above the theater flickered as if they were trying to stay awake. The smell of buttered popcorn drifted outside, causing my stomach to growl.
He had told us to dress casually, but that he was surprising us.
Casual, apparently, meant me overthinking my entire wardrobe for forty-five minutes.
I wore a sweater and jeans. The sweater I chose today was four hundred dollars and the nicest one I owned.
Soft charcoal gray, fitted just enough to look intentional but loose enough to pass as effortless.
It was casual enough for people who didn’t know the brand, which, thankfully, wasn’t plastered across it like a billboard.
No logos, no loud stitching, nothing that screamed money.
Just clean lines and expensive fabric that felt like a second skin.
If someone looked at me, they’d think I grabbed it off a rack without thinking.
In reality, I had held it up to the mirror three different times and changed my mind twice before settling on it.
Because this was a date.
A real one.
“We’re going to a movie?” I asked, looking at him.
“We watch these at home all the time.” I winced when I realized how bad I sounded.
I didn’t want to sound ungrateful. I enjoyed any time spent with them, and Asher’s idea of a date made perfect sense given who we were and what class we shared—even if Theo often hated our choices.
Asher’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned. “This isn’t just any movie,” he said, his fingers finding mine on one side and Theo’s on the other. “Trust me.” With a gentle tug, he pulled us through the theater doors, his excitement practically vibrating through our connected hands.
I thought we’d join the line for tickets, but Asher motioned for us to stay put while he approached the counter. He exchanged words with the box office employee, and moments later, a man with a theater manager badge appeared, his face brightening with recognition.
“Ah, Asher Montgomery. Your private screening room is ready,” he said, gesturing for us to follow.
We trailed behind him through the left corridor to the farthest theater—an intimate space with maybe thirty plush recliners, the kind they typically reserve for films in the twilight of their theatrical run.
The theater he chose was a large, locally owned theater known for showing a few popular movies and more obscure and older movies. Asher and I had both been to the theater several times before, separately.
Once, I’d spotted him here during a film festival—some French art film with subtitles. I’d sunk lower in my back-row seat, mechanically feeding myself handful after handful of popcorn while watching him three rows ahead, completely oblivious to my presence.
Looking around, I wondered if it was a real, romantic date, or if he had something sexual planned instead.
Three people alone in a theater…
“You’re free to sit wherever you’d like,” he said.
“Here are the snacks you ordered. Feel free to leave your trash on the cart at the end.” He gestured toward a cart where three buckets of popcorn sat beside boxes of candy and bottled waters.
My chest tightened at Asher’s attention to detail.
“Your film begins in approximately five minutes,” the manager said with a slight bow before backing away and disappearing through the exit.
“The best seats are in the middle of the middle,” Asher said. “After we get some snacks.”
I grabbed a bucket of popcorn and spotted the familiar brown bag of M&M’s waiting beside it. Without hesitation, I tore open the package and let the candies rain down into the warm butter-soaked kernels—just like Asher always did with his.
My fingers brushed against his as we both reached for napkins, and something twisted pleasantly in my gut. First real date of my life, and already I knew I was ruined for anyone else—all before the projector had even flickered to life.
“Thank you, Asher, for including my favorite,” Theo said, reaching for the box of Buncha Crunch.
Theo, unlike us, ate his candy separately.
Asher started walking up the stairs, and we followed behind, taking seats exactly where he said. I wasn’t going to argue with him about the right place to watch a movie with the best view and sound because he was right.
I wouldn’t tell him that out loud, though. I’d never dare utter those words and feed his ego.
We arranged ourselves around him—Theo settling into the seat on his left, with me claiming the space to his right, our trio perfectly centered in the empty room.
“This is nice, Asher,” I said.
I wanted to throw in a sarcastic, witty remark, but remembered we were trying our hand at romance. Usually, romance didn’t involve insults and banter. Not that we were very normal. Our relationship was far from normal.
Asher must’ve made a fair amount of money through his FanFeed page to pay for a date like this, which made me appreciate the date all that much more. He put thought and money into this as a guy who values money. He spent it trying to impress us, and that mattered.
Asher’s fingers wrapped around mine, then reached for Theo’s on his other side. “You two are everything to me,” he said, voice low enough that only we could hear it.
I forgot to breathe for a moment.
This wasn’t our usual accidental touch—a brush of knuckles reaching for the remote, or shoulders pressed together on the couch.
This was deliberate. Intimate. I kept my hand perfectly still in his warm grip while my free hand continued its mechanical journey between popcorn bucket and mouth, afraid any sudden movement might break whatever spell had fallen over us.
“So, this wasn’t just a setup to have sex in a quiet movie theater?” I asked, waggling my eyebrows as I looked at him.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “No. It’s not all about sex. We’re…in a relationship, I guess, if I had to label it. Relationships are more than sex, Beckett,” he said in a teasing tone.
“It’s not like any of us have been in one before.
We don’t know the rules, or how it goes, but we do know sex pretty well.
” I could do serious—I just chose not to.
Easier to crack jokes than admit I was terrified of having everything ripped away: the apartment I called home, the safety I’d finally found, and worst of all, the best friend who’d seen me through everything since we were kids.
He might’ve loved me since we were younger, but that doesn’t mean he had to love me forever. I had insecurities that they’d find out they loved each other more, but I had to trust that wouldn’t happen. That we could communicate well despite being inexperienced.
“We haven’t, but we can talk through anything. We have trust,” Theo chimed in.
Asher’s gaze shifted toward the screen, breaking our connection. Had the projector just flickered to life, or was he deliberately avoiding eye contact at Theo’s mention of trust? Something in his expression felt guarded, like a door closing between us.
“So what cinematic masterpiece did you select for us?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light.
“Tape,” he replied, the single word hanging in the air between us.
He didn’t need to tell me much else. He knew I’d know what he was referring to, as our movie knowledge was equal.
While I knew what it was, it surprisingly wasn’t one I had watched yet, but I knew the premise and what people said.
Theo groaned. He never liked the same movies as us, but they were growing on him, and he enjoyed our time watching movies. We switched off who picked at home each time, and I started picking some that I knew he loved.
Growing up, his favorite movies were Clueless and The Devil Wears Prada. So, I threw them and similar movies into the rotation to please him. I loved seeing him smile.
“I heard great things about it. It’s amazing what they’re able to do with a few actors and a room, and I love when movies can accomplish something like that,” I responded.
In Film Theory, we were forced to discuss film theories with partners, and we had started gravitating toward each other. I bit back the urge to mention how this movie related to class. No academic analysis—this was supposed to be a date, after all.
“After this, we’re going out for ice cream. Then, we’re going to go home and end this date like it’s the third date,” Asher said, grinning.
“You don’t fuck until the third date?” Theo asked, head cocked to the side.
“Don’t know. I’ve never been on one, but I heard it was proper etiquette. But I can’t wait. I want you both. Without a camera this time.”
Great. Now I’d have a boner throughout the entire movie, and dessert.
The movie started, and we leaned back in our seats.
The film was brilliant—tense, perfectly acted—but every few minutes my focus drifted to the warmth of Asher’s fingers, to Theo’s profile in the dim light, to what waited for us after the credits rolled.