8. VERENA GRAVENHURST #2
We continue rolling through. Couples sit on truck beds with blankets, popcorn in hand, waiting for the movie to begin.
We pass a small snack stand as Reed pulls into a space at the very front, with the best view of the screen that says Reserved for the Sullivans.
It’s a little secluded from the rest of the parking spaces, granting more privacy.
“You have your own drive-in theatre,” I whisper, mostly to myself.
He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “It’s been in the family for years.”
Reed changes the radio station, and the sound from the commercials playing on the screen fills the car.
I follow his line of sight. Standing at the snack booth outside his window is a small group of students I’ve seen Reed hanging out with.
One stands with her arms crossed over her thin frame, glaring at Reed’s car and not listening to a single thing her friends are saying.
She has light blonde hair and bright blue eyes that I can see even from the distance between us.
Her outfit screams wealth. The girl looks like she was plucked straight from the cover of a Forbes magazine.
Next to her is one of the students I’ve noticed Reed hanging around the most, Jenkins, I think his name is.
He leans casually over the counter of the stand, flirting with the staff member behind it.
He’s the type to get what he wants with nothing but a charming smile.
Reed shifts uncomfortably in his seat, returning his soft gaze to me. “I’m going to go grab us some snacks before the movie starts. Do you want anything?”
I give him a soft smile. “Sure. Surprise me.”
“Be right back, beautiful,” he reassures me, giving me a quick peck on the cheek before slipping out of the car and shutting the door with a soft thud.
I watch him approach his friends and see the woman’s face light up as he greets them. Jealousy whorls inside of me when she wraps her arms around him in a hug, and I can’t help but think I’m not the first woman he’s taken on this date, and if she was one of them.
I look forward, while some horror movie preview flashes on the screen, screams echoing through the car speakers.
Loxen was right. Why would someone with Reed’s status want to waste his time with someone like me?
He should be entertaining a girl like her, someone who doesn’t tiptoe through life terrified of being too much or not enough.
I suddenly feel too overdressed in my attire, like I’m a fraud.
Why do I care so much? I don’t even know what this is between us.
It’s new, undefined, and I shouldn’t be jealous.
Inhaling slowly, I unclench my hands from where I unknowingly balled them into fists. You don’t care. You’re fine, I tell myself, but I don’t feel fine.
Reed returns just as the opening credits for Pride and Prejudice begin.
Soft piano notes waft through the vehicle as he returns to his seat, arms leaden with an assortment of snacks.
He places a bag of popcorn between us, a bag of spider-shaped gummies in the cup holder and holds out a drink for me to take. “Please tell me you like cherry soda.”
His face is laced with worry, and I huff a laugh, feeling my frantic heartbeat calm in his presence. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
My skin grazes against his as I take the cup from his hand, and his brows pinch together. “Are you still cold?”
“Maybe a little,” I admit, and Reed reaches into his back seat, grabbing a grey hoodie for me to wear, sporting the academy logo.
“Here, put this on,” he instructs, and I pull it over my head. The smell of expensive cologne wraps around me like pine, leather and something sweet that has me craving another lungful.
“Better?” he asks, offering a warm smile.
“Yeah,” I breathe, “much.”
Settling into our seats, his fingers skim mine, and I let my hand fall into his. He runs his thumb over my knuckles with easy, tentative strokes.
We watch in silence for a long while, sharing glances between scenes and eating popcorn.
“I like Darcy,” he says with a chuckle, breaking the silence.
I turn to him in disbelief. “You like Darcy? As in, the emotionally unavailable, rude and judgmental Darcy?”
Reed grins. “He’s just misunderstood, Gravenhurst.”
“He’s awful.”
“He’s a disaster, yes,” he agrees, nodding his head. “But so is Elizabeth.”
I huff a laugh. “She’s literally perfect!” I insist, pointing to the screen as Elizabeth twirls past.
“She’s stubborn and impulsive,” he counters. “And assumes she knows everything about everything, especially Darcy.”
“That’s just a woman’s intuition,” I say, matter-of-factly, throwing a piece of popcorn into my mouth.
“That’s called judging a book by its cover,” he shoots back.
Something about the way he says that, like he’s referring to himself and not the movie, has my chest tightening. “Is that something people do to you a lot?”
His smile fades, and a heartbeat passes between us before he answers, “Yeah. More than you’d think.”
Something in the air shifts, like he’s sharing a secret just between the two of us.
“Because of your last name?” I ask.
“Because of my last name,” he repeats, nodding, “and because of who my family is. What they expect. What they want me to be.”
“And do you want to be who they expect you to be?”
“No. God, no,” he says, shaking his head.
I shrug, throwing another piece of popcorn into my mouth. “Then the solution is simple, don’t be.”
He laughs, seemingly lost in thought. “It’s more complicated than that.”
I stay quiet, letting the silence stretch between us.
“Want doesn’t matter when your name is bigger than you are,” he finally says, staring at the screen, but not really watching.
“People hear the name Sullivan, and they stop seeing a person. They see a legacy, a future, a role I’m supposed to fill without question.
It’s like my whole life was mapped out long before I ever had a say, and now I’m just following a script everyone else wrote for me. ”
I nod, taking in his words but finding it hard to relate to such hardships.
My name has never been mine to own. It never came with the grave expectations of everyone else around me.
But as I look at Reed and see the man just beneath the surface of the picture he portrays to the world, I think maybe we aren’t so different from one another after all, longing to find our places amongst the sea of infinite obstacles washing in before us. “Want to know what I see?”
Reed’s head lolls towards me against the back of his seat, and a smirk plays at his lips. “Do tell.”
“I see someone trying,” I say softly, meeting his gaze. “Someone who fights to be more than what everyone else decided he should be. Someone who doesn’t realize how much that matters. Sometimes the effort one makes is worth more than the weight of gold in the end.”
He stares at me for a moment, looking at me like he’s seeing me for the first time and something akin to sadness flickers over his features. “You give me too much credit, Gravenhurst.”
I smile, raising my brows. “Well, then I take it back.”
Dimples immediately form on his cheeks, and a warm laugh escapes me.
When I look back at Reed, his eyes are lingering on my lips, and my smile falters a smidge. “What?”
“You’re the kind of beautiful that ruins men like me, Gravenhurst,” he says, leaning towards me, capturing my jaw in his palm.
Before I can say another word, he presses his soft lips against mine.
I still for a moment. My heart flutters in my chest, and I run my hand through his golden locks, deepening our kiss.
He kisses me with fervour, cupping the nape of my neck, and when I lightly pull his bottom lip between my teeth, he lets out a needy groan.
Without hesitation, he slides his hand to my waist, pulling me onto his lap.
Heat pools in my core as I straddle him, feeling his length hardening just beneath his jeans.
It’s been a long while since I’ve allowed a man to touch me, let alone someone whose company I actually enjoy.
His roaming hands ignite a fire inside of me, and it feels as if at any moment now I’ll burst into flames, reducing to ashes beneath his touch.
I gently rock my hips against him, getting carried away in the moment, and he lifts his hips slightly, pressing his cock into me, assuring me the feelings are mutual.
Suddenly, he breaks away from me, and I immediately mourn the loss of his lips.
Our chests heave against each other as we catch our breaths, and I can see a mix of conflicting emotions behind his gaze.
“I’m sorry,” he says, clearly worked up as he runs a thumb over my bottom lip. “We should take things slow.” Now those are words I’ve never heard before.
I nod slowly, agreeing, despite the ache between my thighs. “Yeah, of course.”
He offers me a weak smile, then places a long kiss against my lips. It’s more than a kiss, though. It’s a promise, a claim. “Come on, trouble, let’s get out of here.”