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“Good.” I nodded. “Okay, then. Great. Glad we got that cleared up.” I lifted the butter-stained tub between us and asked, “Popcorn?”
She glanced down at it, then back up again, frowning in confusion. “Um, offering me popcorn isn’t really being that mean,” she explained.
“Shit. You’re right.” Pulling the tub back to me, I offered her a rueful cringe. “Hey, being mean’s a work in progress for me.”
Repeating her own phrase back to her made her grin.
God, she had a beautiful smile. It lit up her entire face.
“So, uh…” I cleared my throat and hugged the tub to me possessively. “Keep your damn hands out of my popcorn, lady.”
She sniffed out a small laugh. It gave me a certain thrill to know I was entertaining her—which had to be wrong—so I cleared my throat and leaned closer.
“Then again, sharing popcorn doesn’t mean I’m proposing marriage or anything. So take some if you want.” Turning to look directly at her, I shook the popcorn at her in a taunting manner as I added, “Besides, you wouldn’t be interested in me anyway; I don’t have a girlfriend you could get me to cheat on.”
There! Now, that was the kill shot I should’ve been aiming for all along.
I straightened my shoulders, proud of myself.
With an offended gasp, Yellow jerked the hand she’d been lifting to accept some popcorn back to herself as if I’d said the unthinkable. But, oh, there was plenty more where that had come from.
Shoving the tub back toward me, she hissed, “Get your popcorn out of my face.”
“Fine.” I swung the tub back to my own lap. “More for me, then.”
From the corner of my eye, I watched her cross her arms tightly over her chest and face the screen to watch the commercials playing.
I grinned, realizing I got the same rush from angering her as I did from amusing her.
So I leaned toward her as I filled my mouth with a handful of buttery goodness. “Mmm,” I moaned in delight. “So good.”
The irate glance she shot me seemed to say, Are you kidding me right now?
Glad her attention was back on me, I swallowed and said, “Your taste in rows sucks, by the way. I had the best seat in the house before you had to start your little drama show and forced me to come down here and step in.”
“Excuse me?” she growled and lifted her eyebrows. “I didn’t start anything. And you did not have to come down—”
“And why the hell are you here all by yourself?” I added, ignoring her rejoinder. “Couldn’t you get any of your friends to join you tonight? Or did you sleep with all their boyfriends, too?”
Her mouth fell open as she sputtered a moment before snarling, “You know what? Fuck you. Slut-shaming looks attractive on no one, buddy. You can go, now.”
The label caused me to pull back in surprise. Then I instantly shook my head to deny such a claim. “Whoa. No. I’m not slut-shaming,” I insisted. “I’m—I’m homewrecker-shaming. Big difference.”
When she sent me a disbelieving glance, I lifted my hands in surrender. “Honest. I don’t give a shit what your bed-count number looks like. It’s the ruining-my-sister’s-life part I’m sour about.” I pressed a hand into my own chest and added, “Because I’m the one who had to patch her back together after you royally fucked her world up with what you did. You really hurt her, you know.”
A multitude of expressions crossed her face. Shock, horror, guilt, humiliation, despair, indignation, and then rage. “That’s it,” she said, flashing clenched teeth at me. “I really wanted to see this movie, but if you don’t stop talking to me, I’m leaving.”
I gulped, realizing I’d gone too far. Hell, I was probably harassing her worse than the last guy had. Lifting my chin to make it look as if I wasn’t feeling any kind of shame for my words, I announced, “Don’t worry; I’m shutting up. I don’t have anything else to say to you, anyway.”
“Thank God,” she hissed to herself and promptly went back to facing the front of the cinema, staring determinedly at the ads flashing across the screen.
I faced the front too, ready to ignore her right back.
Except the guilt kept creeping in. I really had crossed the line. I began to bob my knee, unable to bear it.
Around us, the lights dimmed and the commercials faded so previews could begin. The view I had of Yellow in my peripheral vision went shadowed but I could still feel her there next to me, more brilliantly than I’d been aware of anything in a long time.
Against my will, I turned to look at her. The lights from the previews reflected onto her face, showing me how well she knew I was staring. She tipped her chin up defiantly and tightened her lips to keep from reacting.
