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“For what? You paid.” Without my wallet, he’s had to pay for everything.
I fit my hand in his warm palm, his fingers closing snugly around mine.
Shaking his head, he pulls me up, hugging my front against his, and close to my cheek, he whispers, “For letting me in.”
A break from the snow finally comes after the sun goes down, giving the moon a chance to light our walk to the movie theater.
After buying tickets, we stop at a long counter selling popcorn, drinks, candy, sub sandwiches, and ice cream. Reece tells me to get whatever I want, so I order a water and a separate cup of ice.
“Why don’t you put the water with the ice?”
Keeping my voice low, I tell him, “Eating ice helps me cool down. In case I get overheated.”
“You’ve been fine all day, haven’t you?”
“I…” I have been fine all day. Last night, too. I was overheated yesterday practically the entire drive to the resort, but since I’ve been with Reece, I haven’t tipped one way or the other. My body temp’s been normal. Apart from my brief bout of unease at the café earlier, I haven’t had anxiety either.
I run through my mental checklist of other symptoms, not finding any applicable in the last twenty-four hours.
Maybe my thyroid isn’t malfunctioning again. Maybe it’s something else.
I stare at Reece, his lips pulling into a secretive smile.
Maybe it’s someoneelse. Kordin has always caused me stress, but lately it’s been worse. The daily onslaught of extra cortisol from constantly being in survival mode is affecting my system, and my body’s been letting me know.
“Will you get popcorn?” I ask Reece.
“Do you want me to get popcorn?”
“Yes.”
“Then I will.”
“Are all movie theaters like this?” I ask once we’re inside the dimly lit theater. The back two-thirds is made up of tightly packed rows of plush red chairs, while the front section has six booth-style tables, the seats only on one side, facing the screen.
Carefully holding his drink and popcorn in one arm, Reece settles his free hand on the small of my back, guiding me forward. “None I’ve ever been to.”
We sit at one of the middle tables, perfectly centered to the screen. I wait until the theater goes dark to lower my hood.
During the previews, I reach over and grab Reece’s hand, placing it on the inside of my thigh, right up against my crotch. He gives it a squeeze before withdrawing his hand altogether. I do it again and get the same results.
Leaning over, he whispers, “That’s not why we’re here.”
Someone shushes him, making me scowl.
Reece grins.
“Why are we here? We could’ve watched a movie at the cabin.”
“You want your first movie to be on a twenty-four-inch screen with a thirteen-year-old DVD that most likely skips?”
Maybe? I can honestly say I’ve never put any thought into what my first movie experience would be like.
“Why is this so important?”
“Because I don’t want you ending up like your mom thinking a bottle of wine and a book are the best life has to offer.”
My scoff triggers more shushes.
