She laughed and the sound landed in my chest, hot, like one of her favorite flaming piñatas emojis. My pulse, which I hadn’t even realized was racing, slowed.
I reached down into the little truck bag beside me. “And for a champagne toast”—I handed her one of the two ice cream cups—“your flute.”
She laughed again. “You’re effectively earning your ‘dazzle’ adjective.”
“You found me out. Nothing says, ‘happy you’re my girlfriend’ like melted dessert on a park bench.”
“Cheers.” She tapped her cup against mine and took a bite. A smear caught at the corner of her mouth, I grabbed a napkin and brushed it away, slow, careful. Her lips curved as she let me, her eyes catching mine and holding. For a second, the ice cream didn’t matter, only her leaning into the small gesture.
We finished slowly, neither of us in a rush. The silence between us settled in, easy and bone deep. We sat back, people-watching, the same as that time in Alberta a few weeks ago. Only this time, there was no confusion about what this was.
I was sitting wonderfully here with her—as mine.
The park wasn’t nearly as crowded as Saturdays were. Tuesday evening meant fewer families, fewer joggers. One by one, people trickled out, and eventually the ice cream truck packed up and rolled away.
I stood, brushing my hands on my jersey pants, then reached out to her. “Come on.”
She took my hand. We walked slowly, our steps in sync in a lazy lap around the park. I wasn’t ready to call it a night, not when her hand fit so perfectly in mine.
“What do you say we hit the theater?” I asked.
She laughed. “You don’t even know if anything good is playing.”
“That’s part of the thrill.” I gave her hand a teasing squeeze.
She shook her head. “You’re impossible tonight.”
I smirked. “Only in the most irresistible way. You’re welcome.”
Chapter eighteen
Mel
I slid into the plush theater seat, the hush of previews rolling over the screen while Sean settled beside me. Everything about tonight felt like a rewind to my teenage years. Nervous giddiness, secret smiles, and breathless anticipation that shouldn’t take me by surprise. But it did.
He leaned over to grab my drink, and his arm brushed my boob.Hello!A jolt zipped through me, fast and hot.
He took a sip, clueless about what had happened. “I forgot how good Sprite tastes. Still hits the spot.”
I was still recovering, so I simply smiled and reached into the popcorn. But before I could grab any, he caught my hand and held it there. His fingers brushed along mine, slow, deliberate, a flicker of warmth stirred beneath my skin, before he plucked a piece out and fed it to me.
I opened my mouth, but he pulled back at the last second.
I laughed, grabbed his hand, and popped the kernel into my own mouth. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet, here you are,” he murmured.
“Ridiculously falling for your nonsense,” I whispered, grinning.
He intertwined his fingers with mine on the armrest, and the fluttering in my chest kicked into a full-blown butterfly disco.
As expected on a Tuesday, the theater was mostly empty, only a few couples, a row of teens giggling behind us, and some solo moviegoers with buckets of popcorn way too big for one person. The low hum of chatter filled the air, but I couldn’t focus on anything except the man beside me and the steady warmth of his palm pressed to mine.
He leaned over, voice low. “Too late to check the reviews now.”
I grinned. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Dangerous words,” he murmured, reaching past me again.
