One of those stupid nouveau slasher flicks with lots of gritty pain and an ambiguous ending, I’m sure.
After dinner, I’d gone home and changed into some jean shorts and a tank top before Lyla and Ten swung by to pick me up.
Trey arrived with J.D. just as we got here, all of us parking up in the front row. They started making the rounds, going off to talk to different people and hang out, while I headed for the concession stand. My mom doesn’t let us drink our calories, so the movies is one of the only chances I get to have a Coke.
I walk inside the concession area and move down the line, grabbing a cup and filling it with ice.
“You dropped this the other night,” a smooth voice says.
I jerk my head up to see Masen, standing right at my side. Butterflies take off in my stomach.
I look down to see him holding out my inhaler and then quickly glance around, making sure no one is watching. I snatch it out of his hand and slip it into my pocket. Shit. I must’ve left it on the library floor after we…
I turn back to the soda machine, not saying anything as I fill my drink up and secure the lid.
“How’ve you been?” he asks.
But I refuse to engage. I take my drink and move down the line, grabbing a straw and flexing my jaw in anger. Images of Katelyn, half-naked with her legs wrapped around him as he lies on top of her on the backseat of his car, flood my mind. I tap the straw on the counter, trying to unsheathe it from its wrapper, but it snaps and breaks instead.
I toss it in the trash can and grab another. How could he look down at her and want her over me? How could he kiss her? Does it even matter who it is? I thought he was different.
“You heard, didn’t you?” he says, following me as I pick out candy. “I’m glad. I wanted you to hear.”
I bend down and pick up a bag of Sour Patch Kids. “No one cares what you do, loser.”
He takes a step closer. “You have a boyfriend,” he points out, shrugging. “Katelyn’s got a hell of a body, she’s good in bed…”
My fingers curl around my paper cup, the lid pops off, and Coke overflows, spilling all over my hand.
Dammit.
He snorts, and I scurry, grabbing napkins and cleaning myself up.
Good in bed? The thought of him enjoying her—touching her—makes me want to shove a rubber dick up his nose.
Asshole.
And I do not have a boyfriend. I have a prom date.
He leans in, his voice full of self-satisfaction. “You’re jealous.”
I fix the lid back on the drink, throw the soiled napkins away, and turn to him, my eyes burning. “Rocks?” I bark, changing the subject completely to avoid the one we’re on. “Dumb as a box of rocks? Are you kidding me?”
He breaks into a laugh. “It took you long enough.”
“Don’t you ever call me that again!” And then I dart my eyes to the side, seeing a couple of girls from school cast us curious glances. I lower my voice. “And I’m not jealous. I just don’t appreciate you filling me in on all your sleazy bullshit.”
He takes a step closer, putting us chest to chest with both hands on the counter at my sides, caging me in. “And I don’t like him touching you.” He scowls down at me.
He must be referring to the parking lot today when he saw Trey kiss my forehead.
I reach over and grab a popcorn box, tipping it over and shaking it to show that it’s empty. “Here you go.” I shove it at his chest. “All the fucks I give.”
And I push through his arm, taking my drink with me.
“Hey. Everything okay?” someone asks.
I look up, seeing Ten as I approach the register. I pause, seeing his gaze flash between Masen and me as he holds his silver water bottle, which I know is filled with rum and Coke.
Ignoring his question, I glance back at Masen. He tosses the popcorn box to the counter and walks toward me, holding my eyes as he glares down. I feel the heat coming off his body, but I stand tall, daring him to even try to pick another fight. He’s a jerk whose only kick in life is to make mine miserable.
He doesn’t say anything, though, and keeps walking out the doors.
After he’s gone, Ten exhales a long sigh and turns back to me. “In case you’re still trying to figure it out,” he says, “he wants you bad.”
I turn away, unable to shake the desire to go pick another fight. He wants me bad? Well, he certainly doesn’t look like he’s suffering with need. Not at all.
I pay for my drink and candy and head out of the stand with Ten. He heads for a group of guys at a convertible, while I walk through the cars toward Lyla’s BMW up front and try not to look for Masen. The sky is black now, but the screen is shedding lots of light, and I hear the crickets buzzing in the grass out in the distance. I spot Trey standing by his car, flirting with some girl.