His shoulders are squared, his chest lifted. There’s something different in the way he carries himself now—something solid. Like he’s no longer trying to make himself smaller. Like he finally fits in his own skin.
“You okay?” I ask softly.
Ashton smiles and presses a quick kiss to my cheek. “Yeah, I am.” His voice is steady and confident. He nods toward the theater. “Let’s go get some overpriced candy. I’m starving.”
I grin as we head for the door. “I want Raisinets.”
He rolls his eyes. “Of course you do, old man.”
I snort. “Who the hell are you calling old? I’ve got more stamina than you.”
“Only because I’m injured.”
A smirk tugs at my lips. I stop in the middle of the sidewalk and turn to face him, brows raised. The fading evening light catches in his blond hair, carving soft shadows along the sharp lines of his face.
“We’ll see who’s got more stamina tonight, baby,” I tease.
Ashton’s cheeks flush. “Asshole,” he mutters, ducking his head.
I laugh under my breath and lean in, brushing a quick kiss over his cold lips. He melts into it, his hand sliding down to my hip. He exhales softly into my mouth, all the remaining tension in his body melting away.
When he pulls back, his green eyes are wide and a little hazy, warmth shining through them. A soft smile curls across his glistening lips.
“I love you,” he murmurs.
I rise onto my toes and press a peck to his flushed cheek. “Love you too, baby.”
I nudge the theater door open with my shoulder, and we’re swallowed by warmth and the rich scent of fresh popcorn. The hum of the popcorn machine and the hiss of soda fountains fill the concession area, blending with the low murmur of voices.
We step into line, and I feel it almost immediately—gazes catching, heads turning, whispers that aren’t even trying to be subtle.
But Ashton doesn’t react. His attention is fixed on the candy display, eyes scanning the glass case like it’s the most important decision of his life. The woman standing behind the cash register looks at us expectantly, her lips smacking loudly around a piece of gum.
“Extra large popcorn, please,” Ashton says. “And…” His gaze drags across the options again. “Sour Patch Kids. Those watermelon ones. Gummy worms. And—yeah, those sour strips.”
I blink at him. “You trying to strip the enamel off your teeth in one sitting?”
He shrugs. “Life’s too short not to enjoy sour candy.”
I shake my head, stepping closer to the counter. “Box of Raisinets too.”
Ashton snorts under his breath.
“What?” I shoot back. “Some of us have evolved palates, Ash.”
“I wouldn’t call chocolate-covered raisinsevolved.”
I scoff. “It’s an elite candy choice, babe. Don’t be a hater.”
“You’re lucky you’re handsome,” he mumbles.
The girl behind the counter goes still for a second, her throat bobbing as she tries to keep her expression neutral, eyes flicking between us. Ashton doesn’t notice—or doesn’t care.
“And a large cola,” he adds, gesturing to the drink sizes. “The biggest one you’ve got.”
After I pay for our criminally priced concessions, we push through the double doors into the theater. Previews flicker across the screen, casting a dull glow over the aisle. The place is a little dingy, a little worn—faded red seats, some patched with tape, the screen just slightly warped at the edges. The resolution’s fuzzy, the speakers a little tinny. It feels like nothing’s been updated since the eighties.
But for a town like Claremont Shores, it fits right in.
