Page 53 of Lovesick
Fear congeals in my throat, leaving a chalky taste on my tongue. “Uh, I said you’re horrible! For thinking that I don’t agree with you because, pish, it’s obviously beautiful tonight. Look at—look at the cars…and stuff.”
Smooth, dude.
Merit’s gaze plows into me, inlaid with a minutia of amusement that doesn’t make my singing heart any less vocal.
“The cars and stuff?” she repeats with a chuckle.
My Freudian slip buries me under a traumatic replay that will undoubtedly haunt me long after this date. What is wrong with me? Where did all my charisma go? We’re just watching a movie together, not walking down the damn aisle.
I gulp. Loudly. “Uh-huh.”
Merit swings around to cut off my trek, her hands linked behind her back as she rocks on her heels. “You’re strange, Calloway.”
Calloway.
Is it bad that I love the way that sounds coming from her mouth? Merit Calloway has a nice ring to it too. Hypothetically speaking, of course.
Thankfully, the distance from the concession stand to the car is short, and once we make it back to home base, I hand off the snacks to Merit so that I can make the perfect fort for us.Popping the trunk, the back seats are already prostrate, which means the large comforter, miscellaneous blankets, and pillows are ready to go. I couldn’t imagine us making this work in my tiny Toyota Camry.
The puffy duvet is the first to be laid down, then I throw three blankets of varying thickness on top before adding pillows into the mix. I hope it will be enough to keep her warm—I tend to run hot.
As I pretty up the space with far too much diligence, I can feel Merit’s eyes on the back of my neck, the noisy crunch of popcorn slicing through the otherwise awkward silence.
“I’ve never been to a drive-in theater before,” she says between mouthfuls, her tone undercoated with childlike excitement.
“Neither have I,” I confess, anxiety clamping around my heart as I turn back around, preparing myself for an inevitable gridlock of awkward pauses or embarrassing stutters.
Whoever said that going to the movies isn’t romantic was lying. Like, sure, both parties will probably be focused on the film, but the closeness, the darkness, the shared food? That all screams domestic bliss to me.
“You haven’t? But you’re so prepared.”
I blanch. “Uh, I might have…looked up what to bring,” I whisper the last bit to myself, as if the words are blasphemous.
Unfortunately for me, Merit has excellent hearing and a superb no-bullshit detector.
“Wait a second, you’re telling me that you didresearchbefore our date?” she exclaims.
Date.
How Ilovethat word.
“You don’t have to sound so shocked,” I joke.
Merit climbs onto our makeshift bed, cradling the precious, over-expensive cargo in her arms while she plops onto her butt. She piles our stock of saturated fats like a crow hoarding shinymaterials. “Sorry, I just—I didn’t realize you were such a lover boy.”
Lover boy?! What? That’s—I’mnota lover boy.
Seriously, dude? You’re the definition.
My mouth hangs open, but she doesn’t allow me the chance to respond.
“Don’t get your dick in a twist, Crew. I’m just messing with you,” she chuckles, her smooth, soft voice rushing over me like a babbling brook and causing an uptick in my nervous system.
Realizing that I’ve been standing here this entire time, I warily take a seat next to her, watching as she swings her legs back and forth against the rear bumper. She offers the comically large popcorn bucket to me.
“I think it’s actually really sweet.”
My stomach binds. Eating is the last thing I want to do right now. “You do?”
