“Problem?” I drawled.
The kid shook his head, his shoulders quaking with a suppressed laugh. He was about to get a front row seat to How to Lose an Eye in Ten Seconds if he wasn’t careful.
I grabbed the ticket and got into the theater forty minutes into the movie. It was early afternoon. Who took a girl to a movie midday? A pretentious little shit like Easton, that was who. He’d probably promised to have her back home before curfew.
I went up the stairs, scanning the mostly empty seats. I spotted them in one of the back rows, huddled together, sharing popcorn.
I lumbered up the stairs, taking a seat beside Grace, essentially sandwiching her between Easton and me. Their eyes didn’t waver from the movie. Collateral punishment for my shitty behavior.
I could practically hear East snickering in my ear.
“Here to team-tag Blondie?”
He hadn’t even said that, and my fingers curled around the armrests, almost snapping the damn things.
Nothing about this was familiar territory for me.
I’d never had girl problems before.
My philosophy had been as follows: if they wanted to hook up—great; if not—no problem. The two relationships I’d had in high school were easy. My girlfriends had been physically pleasing and cool to hang out with. But I never felt like I could kill anyone who looked their way. And it was starting to feel like, in Grace Shaw’s case, I had the tendency to get very jealous and very possessive anytime someone as much as breathed her way.
“I was an asshole,” I piped up finally, my voice rough.
Grace popped two popcorn kernels into her pink mouth, blinking at the screen under her ball cap.
“Fine. Am. I am an asshole, happy?”
“Amp it up, man.” Easton tsked, snickering into a fist full of popcorn. “I’m not hearing you owning up to it. I wanna see you sweat. Maybe throw a Notebook quote in.”
Suddenly, I knew exactly what this was. My best friend wanted to prove a point. To show me I cared for this girl.
East pushed, and he’d pushed far, not because he wanted to tap Grace’s ass, but because he wanted to kick mine into action. I’d been lying to myself since the day I’d met this chick.
A faint smile rose on Texas’ lips. They were a nice pair of lips. Pale and pillowy, the bottom plumper than the upper one.
“He’s right,” she teased. “A quote from The Notebook would make everything better.”
“Shh!” someone a few rows below growled.
The Notebook, they said? I’d watched it a thousand times with … never mind.
My jaw ticked, and I ignored the rapid pulses in my eyelid. “You got a taste for humiliation?” I scanned her coldly.
“Tit for tat,” she tutted. “You humiliated me. It’s only fair that I witness you squirm.”
Damn this girl to hell. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“I could be whatever you want. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll become that,” I said quietly.
It might not have been verbatim, but it was damn close. She shivered in her seat. Easton threw his head back, his entire body quaking with silent laughter. He wasn’t going to be so happy when I got back home later tonight to pull out his toenails with tweezers while he watched.
“I’m sorry I shoved you out the door the other day. It was shitty, and rude, and out of order. It wasn’t because I didn’t want you there. My mother and I don’t get along—as you can tell from my ignoring her constantly—and I didn’t want her to say something that would offend you. Which, ironically, blew up in my face.”
In my periphery, Easton’s body was now practically shaking in his seat with laughter. He got up. I spat the apple candy in my mouth into the cup holder between us before it snapped in two.
“I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it. Westie, don’t be … uh, you, basically.” Easton excused himself, clapping my shoulder on his way out. He skipped down the stairs, merry as a stoner at a dispensary.
Grace turned to face me. Again, I found myself cursing the douchebag who’d invented ball caps. I could hardly see her face.
I took her pinky in mine and squeezed. She let me. She tipped her chin up. Those damn summer sky eyes were going to be my undoing. I’d always been an ass man, but those eyes did to my dick what no ass on planet Earth could.
“Tex.”
“I hate you.”
“I know. Tex?”
“Next time you’re a jerk, I won’t be so forgivin’.”
“Duly noted. Tex?”
“We can be friends again, but this is your last chance.”
“Tex!”
“What!”
“Fuck friendship. I miss your lips.”
Her shoulders eased, like she’d released a breath she’d been holding. “They missed you, too.” Pause. “The rest of you, not so much.”
This girl gave as good as she got.
And she got a whole lotta shit from the world.
I grabbed her cap and flipped it backwards as I dove in for a kiss. Even through the coat of popcorn salt, she tasted warm and sweet and soft. Always so fucking soft. I sucked her lower lip into my mouth, nibbling on it until she moaned and gasped, clutching my shirt.
My eyes were so heavy lidded, I could barely keep them open, but I still didn’t fully shut them. She was gorgeous like this, in the dark, the blue lights of the screen dancing across her face. I wanted to ink this moment into memory, because I knew I would screw it up eventually.
I was going to lose her.
But at least I was going to have her first.
This was going to be temporary.
And painful.
And worth it.
The only thing that had changed between today and yesterday was my acceptance that the train wreck had left the station and was now heading toward a sizzling pile of explosives at a rapid speed.
I wanted Grace ‘Texas’ Shaw.
Wanted in her pants.
In her mouth.
In every hole she possessed (apart from the urethra, maybe).
I wanted her mean jokes and pure heart and dazzling eyes, and that bumpy scar that felt like silk under my fingertips.
Her skin was a continent of explorations I wanted to unveil, and kiss, and nibble. To learn her stories—her fears—by tracing my lips along all the places of her that hurt once.
She slid her fingers into my hair, producing small throaty noises that made all my blood rush south. Our kiss was feral and deep, our tongues twirling together. I’d never enjoyed kissing so much. Normally, it was just a pit stop on my way to my final destination—Boneville.