I want that.
A shadow passed over her row, and she tried not to be annoyed that someone would come in this far into the movie. But her huff of irritation was out when they sat down right next to her. There was half a theater of seats to choose from, so why sit here? She turned to give the person the stink eye but gasped instead.
Slater slid into the seat beside her like it was the most natural thing in the world. He set a bucket of popcorn between them and tucked a drink into the cupholder.
He didn’t look at her right away as he leaned back and took a piece of popcorn. “The animation in this is amazing,” he murmured, eyes still on the screen. “I mean, look at the details.”
Her pulse betrayed her with a sharp thud. On screen, the music swelled. Evie stared straight ahead. “What are you doing here?”
He turned then, just enough that she felt it. “I wanted to see the movie. With you.” His tone was sweet and tender, but she didn’t give herself time to appreciate it.
“You know you just gave everyone more to talk about,” she whispered.
“They’re going to talk no matter what, Evie. I’m choosing to ignore it.”
“What about dinner? You didn’t just walk out, did you?”
“I ate, but it felt wrong being there without you. Everyone was asking about you.”
She groaned quietly. “Seriously?” Her voice stayed low, but the strain threaded through it. “I hate feeling like… like we’re entertainment.”
His jaw flexed. She saw it in the flicker of light. “I should’ve shut it down harder. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not about that.” She finally looked at him. “It’s about the fact that this was never supposed to be something people noticed.”
The ballroom dance filled the screen—twirling, golden, and beautiful.
Swallowing hard, she forced herself to speak the sad truth. “We were never… destined for anything deeper, Slater. You know that.”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached into the popcorn bucket, grabbed a handful, and set it in her palm like an offering.
“I don’t care what they’re saying,” he said quietly. “I’d still rather be here.”
“With me?” she asked, hating how much she needed to hear it.
He didn’t even hesitate. “With you.”
She searched his face, half expecting to find deflection or humor or an escape route. Instead, he looked steady. Uncharacteristically so.
“There’s nothing I can do about people talking,” he continued. “They will. They always do.” A beat. “But I’m not ready for this to end.”
The simplicity of it nearly undid her. It wasn’t a grand declaration, and it certainly wasn’t a promise of forever.
Just not ready for it to end.
On screen, Belle’s hand rested over the Beast’s heart, and Evie’s fingers tightened around the popcorn he’d given her.
“You don’t get to say that unless you mean it,” she whispered.
“But I do mean it.”
The theater glowed around them—soft, dark, and private despite the crowd. He didn’t reach for her or push; he just let his pinky brush against hers on the armrest.
It was such a small thing, but it was intentional, and her chest ached in a way that felt dangerously close to hope.
On screen, the music soared.
And for the first time that night, Evie let herself lean back in her seat—feeling lighter because she wasn’t alone anymore.
