She stops laughing—her expression completely serious now. “You got it, Kyler.”
“Smartass.” I cross my arms and watch her try to keep her shit together. “I regret telling you now.”
“No, you don’t,” she says, sitting up higher. “Life’s too short for regrets.”
“What about you?” I ask. “What does Madison mean?”
She shrugs. “Have you got any brothers or sisters?”
I fake a smile. “Another time maybe?”
She looks disappointed, but says, “Sure.”
“Besides, I need to keep you intrigued, right? How else am I going to keep you around?”
Her gaze lowers. “You don’t need to worry. I’m already intrigued.”
Just like at dinner, she asks that I choose a movie for us. She says she doesn’t care. It not about the movie; it’s the experience. As a joke, I ask her if she’s ever been to a movie before. She shrugs and changes the subject.
She does that a lot.
“You want to make out?” I whisper in her ear. It’s meant as a joke, but she clearly doesn’t get it because she slowly turns from the screen to me, eyes wide. “What?”
I try to get her to relax a little. “You said you wanted the experience, right? Hot date...dark theater...It’s all about the making out.”
Her brow bunches, her eyes darting everywhere as a million thoughts run through her pretty little head.
A chuckle filters out of me. “I was just messing around, Maddy.”
She squirms in her seat. “So you don’t want to kiss me?”
“Oh, I do...trust me.” I fake a yawn and stretch my arms in the air, then settle one around her shoulders. “But I can wait.”
She looks back at me with a hint of a smile.
“Hey...the fake-yawn-arm-around-your-girl-move is the best part of the movie experience.”
She smiles full force now, not looking away.
I grip her shoulder and point to the screen with my free hand. “The movie’s that way,” I tell her.
“You called me your girl.”
I grimace. “I haven’t dated since I was seventeen, so maybe I’m a little rusty.”
Her eyes practically bug out of her head.
“Watch the movie, Madison,” I say, just as my phone vibrates in my pocket.
Jackson: We need to talk.
Ky: I’m out.
He calls, but I reject it.
Ky: Can’t talk. I’m at the movies.
Jackson: This is serious, Ky. I’m not fucking around.
“I got to go to the bathroom,” I whisper to Madison.
She nods; her focus now back on the movie.
Once I’m out in the foyer, I call Jackson.
“Hey.”
“What’s up?” I respond.
“Are you on a date?”
“Kind of.”
“Neighbor girl?
“You said it was urgent.”
“I don’t want you to worry,” he rushes out.
“But?”
“DeLuca was seen leaving your apartment building today. No one saw him go in, just out.”
I release a frustrated breath. “So he knows where I live?”
“Yeah...”
Moments of silence pass.
Jax speaks first. “I don’t want to be a dick, but you’re starting to date this girl—”
“I’m not dating her,” I cut in. “We’re on a could-be date. There’s a difference.”
“Whatever. The fact is she’s already a distraction. You keep it going with her, she becomes part of the mess. You want her in that danger?”
“There’s nothing going on and even if there was, I can keep the two separated.”
“No, Ky, you can’t. When you fall for a girl, you fall hard. She infiltrates every part of you...she becomes you. You remember Ashlee, right?”
I hang up.
MADISON
I waited until I knew he was no longer in the theater before pulling out my phone and sending a message.
Me: I think he wants to kiss me.
Sara: You think?
Me: No. I know. He asked.
Sara: Well at least he asked…
Me: You have to tell me what to do.
Me: …
Me: ….
Nothing. I got nothing. Not until he walks back in a few minutes later and starts making his way back to me.
Sara: Do it.
Sara: Don't let him touch you.
Sara: A kiss… it's only a kiss, right?
Sara: I miss you.
KY
Madison’s phone illuminates her face; her eyebrows bunched in concentration. She looks up and smiles when she sees me approaching.
Once I’m in front of her, she pats my chair. I sit down and put my arm around her while she shifts beneath me until her front presses to my side and her hand rests on my stomach. “Ky?” she whispers.
I look down, just in time to see the uncertainty in her eyes before her mouth settles on mine.
If it weren’t for that split-second look I caught, I wouldn’t have hesitated.
She must’ve known because she pulls back before I get a chance to speak and mumbles an apology.
“No,” I cut in quickly. “It’s not you...” I shake my head at myself, feeling stupid for using such a cliché line. But it’s the truth. It really isn’t just her. It’s both of us. “I’m not—” I break off with a sigh, not knowing what more to say.
“It’s okay,” she says, but her voice and her eyes tell me it’s not. She’s hurt. And I’m the one who hurt her.