Chapter Twenty-Six
T he brick covering the building behind me kept catching on my sweatshirt as I leaned against it, and I shifted uncomfortably.
Liv had agreed to give me a ride home but was taking her sweet time getting there.
I really just didn’t want to be wearing these frumpy pajamas any longer, and my sneaker began to tap rapidly on the cement.
“Waiting for someone?” Luke’s voice made me look up. He was wearing those stupid aviators that I wished I didn’t love, his hands shoved in his pockets. He looked like an Abercrombie ad, and I felt even more self-conscious about my ensemble.
“Hey,” I said, my stomach doing that little flip it had been doing around him lately. “Yeah, I’m waiting for Liv.”
“Really?” he asked, sounding oddly surprised. “How long have you been out here?”
“Like fifteen minutes. She’s probably conning some guy into doing her math homework.” I shrugged, trying to play it off.
“Okay, well, I could just give you a ride, you know. It’s Friday—do you really wanna hang around campus any longer waiting for Hurricane Liv to show up?”
I bit my lip, considering. “I already told her I’d wait…”
“V, it’s Liv. She’ll probably forget she was supposed to drive you and end up at a slam poetry club or something.
” He grinned, and I couldn’t help but smile back.
“Come on, I’m much better company anyway.
We can go do something fun…” his voice trailed off like he knew he was pushing me a little bit.
Technically, I had only asked him for a normal hour, and my time was long since up.
“I…I look terrible,” I said, gesturing to my sweatpants and oversized hoodie. “I can’t go anywhere looking like this.”
“You look comfortable,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Nothing wrong with that.” He tilted his head toward the parking lot and turned that way, waiting for me to fall into step beside him.
The casual way he said it made something warm unfurl in my chest. No criticism, no suggestions about what I should be wearing instead, no mention of showing more skin or looking “hot.” Just… comfortable.
“Okay,” I found myself saying as we walked. “But can I go home and change first? I really want to get out of these clothes.”
“You don’t need to, but yeah, we can do whatever you want.” His smile was genuine, no agenda behind it. “Anything in particular you have in mind after?”
“Maybe a movie?” I suggested, already feeling lighter.
“Which movie? I’m sure there is a new rom-com or whatever it is you like.”
“Die Hard marathon at the Columbus,” I said, grinning at his look of surprised face. He opened my door and waited for me to climb in before walking around to the driver’s side.
“Okay…I’m good with Bruce Willis. But you know that theater smells like old popcorn and regret, right? We could go to Centerville instead and see something new.”
“But… Die Hard .”
He looked over at me with an admonishing glance.
“All right. Die Hard ,” he agreed.
“And we can smuggle in candy?”
“Again, not necessary.”
“That’s not the point. It’s about rebelling against the establishment.”
“Who are you?” His tone was flat, but his face gave away that this was exactly what he’d wanted when he insisted on taking me out—my regular sassy self.
“I’m Vanessa, and I like to break stupid rules for kicks. So can we?”
“Yes, we can smuggle in candy. ”
I just gave a satisfied smile and took over his stereo until he turned onto my street.
“I’ll be right back. Do you wanna come in or stay out here?”
“Are you asking for my assistance in changing your clothes? Because then I am one hundred percent coming in,” he confirmed with the return of his arrogant grin.
There were the damn swoopy feelings again. And he was making it hard not to give in to flirting with him. I knew why I was hesitating. Because normal people didn’t move from one guy to the next. There had to be some sort of…waiting period? I didn’t know.
“No, Lucas,” I scolded him. “I was being polite.”
“Manners are overrated. But I’ll be here,” he responded, still beaming at his own joke. I flitted up the front steps and found myself smiling too.
I tore through my closet, discarding one outfit after another. Nothing felt right—I knew Luke would have some remark about anything I chose. About fifteen minutes in, he honked the horn impatiently.
Shit, I thought, still standing in my bra and a plaid mini-skirt I’d just decided was the ugliest thing ever.
It was too cold for it anyway. I spied a pair of nearly shredded jeans peeking out from under my bed and paired them with a white tank top, black leather jacket, and boots. I felt a little bit like Sandy from Grease, but it would have to do. The front door opened, and I jumped.
“I am coming up there, so you better be decent. Or not. Really depends on—”
“I am ready, geez. Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” I said, feigning nonchalance and appearing breezily at the top of the stairs.
“Really? You had to use that word? You know I can’t let that go. I—”
“Do not finish that statement. We are going to see Die Hard . Let’s go.”
“As you wish,” he agreed, allowing me to pass him at the bottom of the staircase. I locked up the house and was surprised when Luke reached for my hand.
“Are we—” I began before thinking better of it. Instead, I laced my fingers with his and marveled at how nervous I wasn’t.
“Are we what?” he asked, pulling me along.
“Nothing,” I chirped. I was going to make a snarky remark about holding hands in my driveway, but I was thankful my brain hadn’t let me get away with it. As it turned out, I quite liked holding hands in my driveway.
* * *
“Alright. What kind of candy do you like?” I asked.
“I don’t really like candy. I’m more of a chip guy.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I like chiiiiiips,” he repeated slowly, and I swatted him on the arm, making him laugh.
“I heard you, I just don’t think we can be friends if you’re telling me you don’t eat one of the main food groups.”
His eyes danced a bit at my frustration. “It’s a good thing I’m not interested in being your friend, then,” he said, his tongue running along the backs of his teeth in a way that had heat gathering in my belly. “But fine. Pick out some candy for me, and I will eat it. But I’m getting chips too.”
I swallowed hard before responding, willing my body to get it together.
“Suit yourself. Chips are hard to smuggle. They make too much noise.”
He just rolled his eyes and grabbed some Doritos noisily. Carefully, I weighed my options before choosing several candy bars, Red Vines, Milk Duds, and Sno-Caps. I didn’t even like Sno-Caps; they just looked like they belonged in a glass case at a multi-plex .
“‘Kay, done.”
“You’re joking.”
“I don’t joke about candy. Or movies.”
“Fine, fine,” he acquiesced and paid for our snacks.
Standing by and watching him pay made me fidgety, and I toyed with the zipper on my jacket. Money had been spent. Now it was like a date.
A date with Luke Miller , I thought, having flashbacks to freshman year of high school when I was determined to catch his attention.
“Earth to Vanessa. Are you ready?”
“Huh? Yeah, of course.”
“What were you thinking about there?” he asked, clearly amused with my zoning out as we headed toward the Columbus theater.
“Just, you know, stuff. Things, and such.”
“Things and such. You are an awesome bullshitter,” he declared.
He had really good eyebrows, I noticed. They moved up and down dramatically when he was animated. They weren’t wishy-washy eyebrows with stray hairs popping out willy-nilly—just good solid, manly eyebrows.
“You have good eyebrows.”
He paused and looked at me, and I felt good about catching him off-guard. It was not often that he had nothing to say.
“So you were thinking about my eyebrows?”
“No. I was thinking about the crush I had on you freshman year. Then, I was thinking about your eyebrows.”
For no particular reason, I felt bolder sitting there in his truck. His brows had hypnotized me.
You might be losing it, I thought seriously.
I did feel a certain sense of comfort in hanging out with him, though, even if I didn’t know what we were doing. It was like nothing I said was going to scare him off…he’d already seen my worst.
“Yes, my eyebrows are awesome, thanks for noticing. Now, about this crush? How big was it? Like, writing Vanessa Miller on your notebooks big?”
“Oh look, we’re here! That’s a shame; this bonding time was super fun,” I responded cheerfully. When I went to open the door, however, it was locked. When I unlocked it, it went right back. “Unlock the door.”
“Hmmm, that’s not the magic word.”
“Before I punch you.”
“Manners, Vanessa.”
“I believe a wise man once said, ‘Manners are overrated.’”
“So he did; I remember that fable. I wanna know how hard you were crushing on me. Come on. Scale of one to ten.”
“Right now? Zero.”
“Zero, huh? Let’s test that theory.”
Before I knew what was happening, his hands were around my waist and I was sliding across the bench seat onto his lap, my lips tauntingly close to his.
“That’s cheating. You’re bigger than me.”
“I am. I have to use my advantage in the name of science. I’m testing a hypothesis. We’re lab partners, and you’re obligated to help me.”
My eyes rolled back hard in my head at his lame explanation, but I wasn’t totally hating the situation.
“What’s the hypothesis?” I muttered.
“That you’re totally still in like with me. And you only fight with me because one, you’re stubborn, but two, you like it that I can keep up. Stop me if I’m wrong. In the name of science, of course.”
“Who says you can keep up?” I questioned, torn between hating and loving that he got me.
Something between a growl and a laugh rumbled from Luke’s throat, and he leaned forward only slightly to drop a kiss on my lips before pulling back.
I realized he was waiting for me to set the pace, which made sense after I had a full-on breakdown last time we kissed. I pressed my lips back to his slowly, deliberately. His fingers danced along the rips in my jeans, and I shivered, shrugging my shoulders into my body.
“I’m sorry,” he stopped, “should I not…”
“No, no, no, you’re fine. Just, goose bumps,” I explained.
“Oh, good. Okay,” he breathed. “Do you wanna go in or…”
“Right, the movie,” I remembered, struggling with thoughts after drinking him in. He smirked at my flustered reply.
“Told you I could keep up,” he muttered under his breath, opening the driver’s side door and letting me off of his lap. “You, ah, you look pretty, by the way. I didn’t say that earlier.”
I blushed at the compliment, it seeming genuine.
“Aw, thanks. Now put this licorice in your pants.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
I burst out laughing.
“Put these Red Vines under your waistband. And the candy boxes too. Then cover them with your shirt.”
“Don’t you have a purse for this contraband?”
“I would, if you hadn’t insisted on chips. They take up all the room I’ve got,” I explained, showing him the inside of my adorable black suede bag. “Now stop being a weenie and put these in your pants.”
I shot him a look much too serious for the situation.
“The things I do for you, woman.”
Minutes later, Luke was holstered with boxes of candy and walking awkwardly into the old theater, still mumbling complaints under his breath. The place was a bit of a dive, but it was where I saw my first movie as a kid.
“Pretty bold words coming from the guy with candy in his pants. Just sayin’,” I teased him.
“Says the girl who’s still going to eat it,” he shot back, not missing a beat. I pinched his stomach rather forcefully, making him twist away. Abruptly, Luke stopped moving and stood stoically in the middle of the hall.
“You alright over there?”
“There are currently Milk Duds in my pants,” he managed with a straight face.
“Yes…and?”
“No, like, loose in my pants. And if I move, I am going to leave an inappropriate looking trail behind me.”
At that, his composure broke, and he busted up laughing.
“Oh my god,” I exclaimed, realizing what it would look like. The laughter bubbled up from somewhere deep, and I couldn’t contain it.
“This is your fault!” he yelled, but was unconvincing as there were tears in the corners of his eyes.
“Okay, okay, okay. Here,” I giggled, walking over to him, “just shake out your pant leg, and I will pick them up.”
He rolled his eyes and did as I asked. Sure enough, ten or twelve chocolate covered caramels fell to the floor, and I laughed even harder as I gathered them.
“Is that all of them?”
“I sure as hell hope so. I really don’t look forward to sitting on one of these through a whole movie. These jeans make my ass look good; ruining them would be a shame.”
“Well, at least this experience has humbled you,” I laughed again, throwing the candy in a nearby trashcan. “Let’s go find seats.”
“Noticing you’re not disagreeing about the jeans though,” he reiterated, his arrogance back in full force as he grabbed my hand while we walked.
“I’m ignoring you now.”
“Mhm.”
The theater was almost completely empty, as was typical for their “vintage” film series, so I chose the middle of a middle row and threw my feet on the chair in front.
“See? You totally couldn’t do this in Centerville.”
“I wouldn’t have to do this in Centerville because I wouldn’t be afraid of what substances lie on the floor there.”
He wasn’t wrong. The older I got, the less charm the place held.
“Shush,” I scolded him. “Can I have my candy now?”
“I’m sorry, what was that? You want to get in my pants? I feel like that’s a little bold of you, V. This is only our first date.”
I was about to hit him again for his relentless innuendos, but the word “date” threw me.
So it’s not just you. This is a thing.
“So, this is a date?”
“We already made out, I put candy in my pants for you, and you complimented my ass. I would venture to say that yes, this is a date.”
“We did not make out . And you complimented your own ass.” He was tickling the underside of my palm with the tips of his fingers, and I was trying desperately not to react. “Fine. It’s a date.”
“Yeah, I know.”
The lights went down, and the previews began. I unceremoniously reached over and yanked the licorice box from Luke’s waistband and opened the package victoriously.
“You’re so hot,” Luke laughed.
“Shut up.”