Heartbreak.
He doesn’t have to say one word for me to know who is in that crowd.
Seth Wright.
Anger boils within me. It heats my face and scorches my blood, the torment in Adam’s eyes serving as an accelerant. Instinctively my fists clench, and as though sensing my need for retribution, Adam gives his head a minute shake.
Genny makes a threatening gesture at the young ladies still ogling Lukas and watches in supreme satisfaction when they scatter. With a grin, she turns to me, but her smiles quickly fades. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m just nervous,” I lie.
Adam looks again to the crowd, and I lean forward, snatching my purse from the floorboard in frustration. “Let’s get this over with.”
Genny’s eyes widen in shock. She angles her head, and when I offer no response, she looks to Lukas for answers. He shrugs his reply, and if circumstances were different, I would totally laugh at the silent, yet incredibly awkward exchanges occurring between us. It seems our group, usually so in sync, has difficulty functioning outside the walls of Sacred Heart. A simple trip to the local movie theater has thrust us into a tailspin.
“Well then,” Lukas announces, his dimple sinking into his cheek.
He opens his door, prompting Adam to do the same. We all pile out of the truck, and once our feet hit the ground, I make my way to Adam.
“We don’t have to go in. I can reschedule. It’s fine. We can do it another night.”
Adam’s lips pinch tightly, and he shakes his head. “No. I was bound to run into him at some point. I hoped I wouldn’t, prayed for it actually, but obviously that prayer fell on deaf ears.”
Yeah. I get that. I mean, one good thing about being so far away from home is that I don’t have to worry about running into my last…“date.”
Adam forces a smile then wraps an arm around my shoulder. “I can’t complain, really. I mean, three others were answered when I met you guys.”
My heart squeezes and just like that, the need to murder Seth Wright floods me all over again.
As the four of us approach the ticket line, I breathe a sigh of relief when the loitering group (including Seth) enters the building. The rigidity of Adam’s muscles lessens, and he releases me, stepping ahead to request our tickets.
He distributes them and with tickets in hand, we turn… and run smack dab into Tommy Ledbetter.
His brown hair curls at the ends, falling across his forehead and brushing the rounded lenses of his glasses. He smiles shyly at me before his eyes drift to my scarred arms. And, as if they have a sixth sense, the Wildflowers tense around me.
To his credit, he says nothing. He simply lifts his stare, still smiling, and I grin back at him. After an awkward moment of silence, he introduces himself to the boys. And to their credit, no South Park references are made. After shaking their hands and giving Genny a friendly side-hug, he hangs back with me while we enter the concession area.
Tommy and I watch as Genny over-ambitiously purchases a tub of popcorn that could feed a small country and fall far behind the other three as we make our way to the indicated theater. Ridiculous. Three teenage chaperones. It’s laughable.
“You look really pretty tonight, Chloe,” he states, opening the door, chivalrous.
I smile, glancing at my attire. “Thanks.” Tucking a stand of hair behind my ear, I add, “You look great, too.” Shaking my head, I awkwardly amend, “I mean, not that you said I look great or anything.”
Oh my God. What is wrong with me?
He laughs, still holding the door as I pass him. “I’m officially rephrasing. Not only do you look pretty, you look great.”
His voice carries a slight tremble. He’s as nervous as I am. Not only do I find it endearing, it’s incredibly comforting. I aim my grin at the floor, my hair falling like a curtain to conceal it.
The theater isn’t as full as I imagined it would be, and finding seats proves easy enough. I take note of the familiar cackles and murmurs, pegging the rest of the crew to be a good distance behind us. Surprised, yet thankful they’re not directly behind us, I settle in.
The first half of the movie is pretty standard. Boy meets girl. Girl is pretty, but not enough to get the boy’s attention. Or so she thinks. Then in an incredibly lame attempt—totally my opinion here—she completely alters her appearance in order to get his attention.
And it’s at right about this point when I start to lose focus on the movie.
Tommy yawns next to me, lifting his arms into a wide stretch, deliberately resting one along my shoulders.
As soon as his fingers curl around my upper arm, several kernels of popcorn whiz by my head. Some lodge into my hair, while several others plummet to the ground by our feet. Tommy doesn’t seem to notice.
I roll my eyes, summoning every ounce of patience I possess before turning around. Three pairs of eyes avoid mine, studiously trained on the movie. I narrow my glare. When none of them dare to make eye contact, I whip back around and relax into Tommy’s hold.
Around the time the on-screen couple shares their first kiss, I rest my head on Tommy’s shoulder out of sheer boredom. Just as I begin a thorough examination of my nails, an entire bucket’s worth of buttery goodness is launched and lands into our laps. Tommy gasps, surprised, probably holding back an expletive. Catching onto our “chaperones’” little game, I stay calm, refusing to give them the satisfaction of the response they’re so clearly trying to instigate. After releasing a defeated breath, Tommy removes his arm to silently wipe the popcorn from his legs, prompting a subtle cacophony of snickers behind us.
Unable to do anything else, I lift my head, shrug apologetically, and smile to hide my frustration. “I’m so sorry. It seems my friends have only recently graduated kindergarten.”
I grab a handful of popcorn from my lap, tossing some into my mouth. Tommy laughs softly. “Nah. I get it.” He folds his hands and sets them on his thighs. I look down and pray the grease hasn’t ruined his khakis.
For the remainder of the movie, Tommy sits ramrod straight with his hands knitted securely together in his lap, and all I can focus on is how disappointed I am. He gave in so easily. I mean, it was just some kernels of popcorn.
By the time the credits roll, my mood is sour, and my stomach hurts because Genny put entirely too much butter on the popcorn. Tommy and I rise from our seats in unison, then slide out of the row. Once I’m free, I glare upward, waiting for Genny, Adam, and Lukas to make their way down the steps. When I’m met with their shit-eating grins, my scowl deepens.
I’m too frustrated to say anything.
I turn on my heel, giving my “friends” the cold shoulder, and smile angelically at Tommy. His returning gaze is one of apprehension. I have no idea if it’s residual anxiety from the popcorn assault, or if he’s figured out that I’m about two seconds from losing my shit.
Honestly, it doesn’t matter. The night is a lost cause at this point.
We head out of the theater where Tommy, unsurprisingly, wishes us a collective and uneventful goodnight before racing to the safety of the parking lot. I watch until he’s safely to his car then whirl around with my hands on my hips, glaring angrily.
At Genny.
Her eyes flare wide, and she brings her hands dramatically to her chest, as though appalled at my insinuation. “What? I had nothing to do with it.”