He snorts as he puts the truck into park. “I thought you knew every inch of Honey Acres, Ms. Explorer,” he teases, taking the keys out of the ignition.
“I do. This is not Honey Acres. We are almost definitely trespassing.”
We both climb out and I walk around to his side, still totally confused about what we’re doing here. As soon as I’m close enough he bends to kiss me, reviving the butterflies that are now a permanent addition to my body. “I thought trespassing would be exciting for you.”
“Trespassing in a hotel to make yourself a midnight snack, yes. Trespassing in a field is how you end up with a gunshot wound.”
“We’re on Orla’s land, I promise. I found this place on a run and I checked when I got back to camp. We’re not that far away, it just takes longer to get here by vehicle, since I can’t drive through fences.” He laughs and takes my hand, walking us to the back of his truck. “I just realized people don’t kiss at the start of a first date.”
“You can drive through fences . . . but people yell at you when you go to apologize and they make your parents pay for the damage.” His eyebrow rightfully rises. “Anyway . . . I haven’t been on a first date before, so I don’t know the rules. Which is probably a red flag for you because why would I be undated at twenty unless it’s because I’m really annoying, which I am, and, well, we might get charged at by cows tonight or eaten by wolves or something, so I’d rather kiss at the start than not kiss at all. I need to stop talking. I’m doing that thing that you make me do where I j—”
He stops at the back of the truck, nudging my chin up with his knuckle to close my mouth. “I know you’re the English major, but undated isn’t a word, sweetheart.”
“I feel like it is.” He ignores me and opens the tailgate, pulling off a white sheet, revealing cushions and quilts, a cool box and the battery pack powered projector we sometimes use for outdoor movie night. “Oh my goodness.”
Lifting me onto the tailgate, he leans in and kisses me again. Slow, gentle, perfect. “I haven’t been on a first date before either.”
I’m stunned into silence as Russ helps me get comfortable on the makeshift bed, handing me a Thermos of hot chocolate and a bag of popcorn. He positions the projector on top of the truck, pointing it at the side wall of the creepy house, and that’s when it hits me how much effort he’s put into this.
I’m not a crier, but this man might just make my eyes water a little. He throws another blanket on top of me and finally sits down, getting under the covers too. “Comfortable? Warm enough?” he asks.
“Everything is perfect.” The wall turns blue as the Disney castle appears followed by the Pixar lamp and as soon as Gusteau’s restaurant appears on the tiny television, my heart just about explodes. He’s thought of everything. “Ratatouille! Russ, you’re perfect. Like dream guy perfect. You’re too good to be real.”
My honesty catches him off guard and beneath the glow of the moon, I watch all the emotions run across his face. I’ve always known I need validation like I need air and, although I don’t think he’s exactly the same, we are very similar.
People have made us feel like we’re less than we are and those opinions are buried deep in us both, like weeds. Every drop of self-doubt waters the soil and once they start to grow it feels impossible to stop. But it isn’t impossible, it just takes someone to rip them out by the root, over and over if needed.
We’re so different and yet so similar and part of me is starting to believe that’s the perfect mix.
His hand reaches toward me, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Tell me a secret.”
“I don’t want to go back to reality next month. I want to stay here with you and the dogs and throw our cellphones into the fire.” He laughs quietly, his hand massaging the back of my neck while I ramble. “I’ll open my bookstore and you can open your bowling store or build robots or whatever engineers do—they can protect us from the possums and the wolves I guess. But you’ll choose me and I’ll choose you and we’ll be happy without anyone else ruining it.”
“You are the brightest thing in my life, Aurora,” he says. “And you’re a living reminder of the good things that can happen when I let myself be happy.”
Part of me wonders if I’d let someone in before now, could I have avoided a lot of the unhappiness I’ve dealt with, but I think the answer is no. I’d have still been doing the same reckless things as before, bouncing from emotional overload to the next, desperately seeking something more. I’d never have made someone happy and the chances are, after the initial buzz of their attention wore off, I’d be lost again.