Chapter 33
Tessa
"Tessa, what kind of candy do you want?" Ruthie peers up at me as we wait in line at concessions, forcing me to return to the moment.
"Oh, I'm good," I answer with a smile. I glance over at Liam. "Thank you, though."
He doesn't respond—just stares at me expectantly—and I don't know why until I see Ruthie's head shaking back and forth.
"Nope," she says matter-of-factly. "That's the rule. We each get drinks and a small popcorn, and everyone picks a different candy so we can all share."
I glance back at Liam, who simply shrugs, offering me a closed-lip smile.
"Okay, then…" I stand on my tip-toes to find the options past the customers waiting in front of us.
"Please say M&Ms, please say M&Ms…" I settle back onto the balls of my feet to find Ruthie whisper-chanting with her fingers crossed in front of her face.
"Hmm…" I prolong the torture, smiling at Liam before pretending to search the choices again. "I think I'll go with… M&Ms."
"Yes!" Ruthie balls up both fists and pulls her elbows to her chest. "Mike and Ikes for me," she says quickly to her dad before tugging on my arm. "Tess, come this way. You have to see this claw machine."
My eyes go wide as she draws me backward, my eyes finding Liam with a genuine smile stretched across his face before I'm completely whipped around.
As Ruthie drags me toward the arcade strip along the side of the theater, I return once again to the car ride over.
I keep replaying it, Ruthie in the back seat and Liam and I sitting up front.
The three of us laughed the whole way here, Liam and I swapping glances as he drove and Ruthie telling us all about Kenzie's birthday party next month—a sleepover with movies and facials and Drippy's cinnamon rolls.
Go figure.
I had braced for some awkwardness between us after this morning, but it never came. The tension's still there, that was obvious in the way his thumb brushing flour from my cheek set every nerve ending on fire. Yet the knot I expected to tighten the second I saw him… never did.
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye as Ruthie pounds the buttons on the claw machine in front of us. He's smiling sweetly at the cashier as he hands her his credit card, and the line of his jaw, the flop of his hair… it should feel overwhelming in a setting like this—where it's not just us.
And it does.
But not in the way I expected it to.
Ruthie tugs on my hand, and I smile at her, slipping a dollar from my purse. She thanks me and takes it, shoveling it into the slot of the machine just as a low voice—soft and steady—sounds behind me. "She's never won."
I spin to find Liam with a bag of candy hanging on his wrist, three small popcorn buckets tucked under his arm, and a carrier full of drinks in his opposite hand.
"These machines are the worst," I manage to say even though my breath is still a little short.
He sets the popcorn and candy on the cushioned seat of the driving game beside us, then balances the holder in one hand and wiggles one of the cups free with the other.
"She keeps at it, though. I told her one day when she finally does win, it'll feel even better.
" He holds the cup out to me. "Worth the wait. "
I smile as I reach for it.
"I went with Lemonade," he says. "I figured since you always have those yogurts with the little lemons on them, it might be a safe guess?"
My face falls in disbelief, and he pulls it back slowly.
"Or maybe not…"
"It's perfect." I grab the drink from him and take a long swig, the cool, tangy liquid soothing my suddenly dry throat. "Thank you."
He tips his chin down as Ruthie groans dramatically behind me.
"Every time!" she says as the claw inside the glass slides back into its starting position.
Liam tosses his arm over her shoulder. "One day soon," he reassures her, handing her a popcorn and the plastic bag of candy.
He glances back at me, balancing the other snacks and drinks in his hand. A smile tugs at his lips. "I can feel it."
Weak whispers pull me from the movie about rival zombie-teen pop bands that is surprisingly addicting.
I glance over to find Ruthie leaning away from me, talking to Liam on her other side.
The next thing I know, she sets her popcorn bucket on the floor, abandoning her empty Mike and Ikes box next to it.
When she stands and turns toward me, she points to the aisle.
"Bathroom," she whispers as she slinks past me.
I turn my knees so they're shoved against the empty seat next to me and let her through.
We're about halfway through the movie, but Ruthie finished her cherry slushie before the previews even ended. I could have predicted a bathroom break would be necessary at some point throughout the two hour film, but I didn't expect it to be this soon.
I laugh to myself as I watch her sprint down the ramp, grabbing hold of the railing at the end and swinging herself around the corner toward the exit.
As I twist back toward the screen, the lead singer of the girl group dances in a bubblegum-pink tracksuit as her backup dancers' limbs slowly decay mid-routine.
Somehow, though, it's not the decomposing teens that keep my attention.
It's Liam's eyes on the side of my face.
I turn and mirror the smile he's already sporting, and he leans onto the armrest of Ruthie's seat. "What do you think?" he asks quietly, nodding toward the screen.
I press myself against the other armrest, closing some of the gap between us. "The movie's actually… not too bad," I admit.
Liam chuckles, then rolls his lips in. "Mhmm, and the company?"
My eyes wander the empty seats all around us, a heat traveling both north and south. I'm instantly grateful that most of Golden City's tweens are still in school, leaving just us and a handful of people in the otherwise empty theater.
"Pretty great, actually," I finally answer.
Liam sucks in a breath as he nods slowly, his face handsome as hell as he tightens his jaw. "What do you think?" I ask, my voice shallow.
He shifts forward another inch or two, and I do the same.
There it is again—that magnetic force.
"I think…" he says, as I watch his lips move. "The guy with the eyeliner is totally lip-syncing."
I smother laughter that threatens to escape as I turn toward the screen to search for the singer. But before I can find him, Liam slips his hand onto my thigh. My eyes dart to his.
"And the company's perfect."
"Liam…" I say, intending for my tone to come out full of warning. Instead, it's weak, and I don't move away.
"I know," he breathes, but rather than pulling back, he doubles down—leaning in further and rubbing his fingertips over the thread of my jeans. "The speed limit."
I suck my teeth and shake my head. "You're not helping," I whisper.
"I brought my kid on our first date." His fingers climb higher on my leg, and I sink further into my seat. "That feels very helpful."
My lips drop open. "Wait…" I rewire my brain so it's not solely focused on his touch. "Is this… a date?" I ask in a hurried whisper. "Was breakfast a date?"
He finally retreats, dragging a palm down his chin. "I really want to say something cool like Trust me, you'd know if this was a date…" He shakes his head, lifting his shoulders toward his ears. "But honestly, I'm not even sure if I'd know anymore."
This time a snort really does rip out of me, and Liam—and several other spectators—whip my way.
My hand flies to cover my mouth as I shift forward toward the strangers.
"Sorry," I mutter loudly. I turn back to face Liam who is staring, waiting, with brows high and arms crossed.
"Sorry," I say to him this time, my fingers moving back to my lips to hide my smirk.
"It's only funny because I feel the same way.
I'm not exactly used to being treated… well.
So, what does a true date even feel like anymore? Who knows?"
The tightness that formed in his jaw momentarily dissipates.
"Feels like I'm fifteen again, trying to navigate how the hell to do this."
I chuckle softly, grinning, not because it's funny, but because I actually think it's sort of… sweet. The idea of figuring things out together.
"We make one hell of a pair, I guess," Liam continues.
My lips tip up further. "I think so," I say honestly.
The words hit Liam, and he swallows, scooting closer like they gave him a new form of energy. He slips his hand back over my thigh, higher this time, his pinky nonchalantly grazing the sensitive spot right below where I'm begging for him most. "It definitely felt like a match to me this morning."
I suck in air, my body instantly wishing it could crawl over the seat between us and into his lap. I swallow the need. "It did, didn't it?"
He pulls away, pressing back against his seat, his fingers curling around the armrests like holding onto them is what's keeping him seated. "I wouldn't mind double checking," he says, his expression unwavering.
I part my lips to—well… say anything. But even if thoughts or words or simple sounds were possible, he wouldn't hear me.
Not as Ruthie plops back down in between us.
"What'd I miss?" she whispers, leaning closer to me. The mixture of the buttery popcorn on her breath and the citrus soap from the bathroom on her hands wafts my way, and I try my damnedest to stay wrapped up in the smell of him.
"So much," I answer under my breath without thinking, brushing my palm over the threads where Liam's was just moments ago.
Ruthie groans. "Aw man, really?"
I shake myself from the memory—from the chokehold Liam's last words have on me—enough to be present. "No," I say, laughing softly. I bump my shoulder gently into hers. "You didn't miss a thing."
The tension between my legs screams that I'm wrong. That she left for five minutes and missed everything.
Because that five minutes with Liam was unlike anything I've had before. Not just because of how he makes my body react, but because of how he makes me feel safe enough to react at all. And it's not just his touch that does it. It's his… everything.
There's no performance with him. No pressure or keeping score.
And that's what it's supposed to be like.
Liam is just a guy who makes a joke when I'm overthinking or uses his touch to both calm me down and make my heart race in the best possible way.
He's a guy who notices the freaking yogurt I buy…
and who makes room for me—and his daughter and all of the mess in between.
My throat tightens as hope and want and nerves all mingle there because if this isn't a date, if this is just him… then I'm not sure I'm ready for what real time together will feel like.
My brain stirs as I stare at the screen, pretending to watch the next song battle. So much so that I almost miss when Liam throws his arm across Ruthie's shoulders. She sits back into it, her eyes peeled on the screen.
And thank God.
Because when Liam stretches out his hand, and his fingers brush the back of my neck, I swear the dozen people in this theater could all hear the pounding of my heart if they were listening.
The rest of the day went on the same—the three of us moving together like it's something we've always done, and Liam and I pretending we don't know exactly what the other looks like naked.
At least, that's how it seemed.
But if anyone had really been paying attention, they might've noticed the little things.
Like how when he opened my door, Liam's hand found the small of my back, guiding me into his truck with a gentle confidence.
Or how, later at the ice cream shop, while we were reviewing the movie, his gaze dipped to my lips every time I took a bite of my butter pecan.
And they might've noticed me too. The way I finally let myself take in that ass—a full, shameless once-over I've been waiting weeks for. Or how my cheeks warmed when he ran his hand through his hair, laughing like he had no idea what it did to me.
They might have even noticed how I purposely dropped a few steps behind after we grabbed sandwiches at the corner deli because I needed a second to catch my breath after what happened inside.
I was reading the menu and didn't notice the bread guy barreling in behind me, boxes stacked high full of rolls, trying to squeeze between me and the wall.
Before I registered the collision that was about to take place, Liam's hand was on my shoulder.
He eased me in front of him in line, adjusting his body so he would be the first point of contact in any possible accident.
It wasn't his touch that got me—though that didn't help. It was the quiet way he guarded me. No glares or nasty comments. No cocky performance. Just that subtle shift in our proximity and a quick glance to make sure I was okay.
Now, after some time apart spent walking Margot through how to fold a fitted sheet over FaceTime—which I also don't really know how to do—and my second cold shower of the day, I decided I'm ready… to find him.
Liam and I didn't exactly finish our conversation from the theater so much as it finished me, and maybe it would be best to keep it that way.
Or maybe not.
Slinking downstairs, I'm careful not to make noises that might wake Ruthie up, though that's my jitters talking—that girl could sleep through a fire alarm. When I reach the bottom, I turn toward the living room, but before I get far, Liam calls out to me.
"Tessa?"
I freeze, not because he's looking for me—I was looking for him, anyway. But because my name slipped out from underneath the door of the study.
His man cave.
The setting of my first Liam fantasy.