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No.
That's no good.
It's too close to what happened. It's a sick trick of fate, really, a bruise so close to the thing I love the most.
But that's what makes it tolerable too. Because I laughed when people started talking about "Netflix and chill." And even way back when, Dare teased me. Poor guy is going to think you're there for sex, and you ask what do you want to watch.
Of course, I'd arrange what to watch first. You don't ask someone, "hey, do you want to watch a movie" and leave it there. Even a broad genre. What if they think an action movie means Die Hard and I bring over a Chinese-fantasy martial arts film?
Of course, we always agreed it's better to be explicit about these things. Back then, I didn't get it. I didn't understand how much people like to play coy, to paper over their intentions, to hide from their desires.
Not in a bad way, necessarily. Just in a strange one.
Really, wouldn't it be better if we all said what we wanted? If we said hey, do you want to come over to fuck? We can watch something after?
But it's hard to admit what we want. Sometimes, it's hard to know what we want, much less verbalize it.
Like right now.
"Val?" Dare slides his arm around my waist. "You okay?"
I nod.
"Thinking?"
"I don't know if I can."
"Okay," he says. "Another time."
"But I want to try."
"You sure?"
No. Maybe. Sort of. "Yes." I swallow hard. "If that's okay with you?"
"Did you have something in mind?"
I rise to my tiptoes and whisper what I want in his ear.
He smiles. "I like that too."
"Can you lead?"
"Can you handle that?"
I don't know. "I want to try."
"You remember the safe word."
"Does this really require a safe word?"
"If you want me to agree to it," he says.
"I always forget how stubborn you are."
"Do you remember?"
"Whiskey soda."
He nods, satisfied. "You ready?" He offers his hand. When I take it, he leads me into the building. We buy tickets and soda (a movie in a theater requires a large Diet Coke; that's just tradition) and find seats.
The theater is quiet. A solo viewer in the front. A group of friends in the middle. A couple on the right side.
"Is this too big a crowd?" I take a seat in the middle of the back row.
"Up to you."
"You're not worried about rotting in a Spanish jail?"
"They won't arrest us."
"How do you know?" I ask.
"Well…"
"Oh." I swallow a sip of my soda. "You've done this before?"
"Yeah."
"You never told me."
"I didn't tell you a lot of things."
"Is that why?" I ask.
"No." He looks to the blank screen. "I knew you wouldn't approve."
"It's rude to the movie."
"I know," he says.
"But I always wanted to do it anyway."
"Really?" he asks.
"Yeah. But the way I imagined it was that I really tried to give the movie my all and it just didn't deliver. And so some handsome, giving man helped keep me entertained."
"Some random guy?"
"My date," I say. "But I don't really want to try with this one."
"I know."
I take another sip. "Did you get caught? At that movie?"
"One time."
"There were multiple times?"
"The movies are a dark place to make out without parental eyes."
"You could have made out at your dad's place anytime," I say.
He shoots me a really look.
Right. "You didn't want him to know you were getting lucky?"
"I didn't want to hear his stupid congratulations."
"Then why did you do it?"
"It was what people expected from me."
Is that really true? Sure, Dare is a lot of fun. I saw for a good time call X on a few bathroom doors a few times, but I always assumed that was a scorned ex fucking with him. (Or a scorned fling, I guess?) But he cultivates that reputation too. "How do you want people to see you?"
"As a guy who deserves a woman like you."
My chest warms. "Dare."
"Yeah?"
"You're trying to woo me."
"It's true."
"To make me forget my senses so I jump you."
"Maybe." He smiles. "It's still true."
"Are you trying to distract me?"
"Trying to focus on what I want to accomplish here." He turns toward me and motions come here.
I turn toward him too. I bring my lips to his. And with every moment of the soft, slow kiss, my concerns fade away.
We kiss all through the trailers.
Then the movie starts, and he releases me. He motions to the screen, asking me to watch, to play this game where we pretend we're here for the movie.
Exactly what I requested.
For a few minutes, I try, really. I watch a thirty-something American actor run around with a gun. Then his love interest strolls on screen in a ridiculous pair of heels, and I roll my eyes.
Dare smiles classic. He's not watching the movie. He's watching me. This is another routine of ours. We know what the other will think. We check for the perfect reaction.
