“One more movie, and then I promise I’ll put all my bad boy ways behind me.”
“Fine, but I’m not going to like it.”
“What, me being a good boy? Or the movie?” I flirt, testing the waters to see where she goes with it.
“The movie,” she deadpans, scrolling through the app and obviously not interested.
Damn. I’m definitely misreading all this and I need to stop because of course this is all in my head.
When she gets toZombieland, she selects the movie and then pauses the start of it. “So what cocktail are we having tonight?”
“I’ll come up with something,” I say, popping off the wall and moving into the kitchen. I gather cranberry juice, Grand Marnier, cream of coconut, a lime, some coconutshavings, and marshmallow fluff. “You like coconut rum?” I ask.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” she calls back.
After I rim our glasses with marshmallow fluff and coconut flakes, I fill a shaker with each ingredient. I can’t help but notice how at ease I feel. I wish the job at Austere allowed me to be a little creative. The Local flashes in my head, and I remind myself I really should call Jerry. Putting it off any longer isn’t going to make it easier, and he’s been kind enough to give me more than enough time to make a decision. I pour the light pink mixture over some crushed ice and carry them out into the living room. For something I made on the fly, I’m pretty proud of it.
“That’s pretty,” she says, standing to meet me. “What is it?”
“I’m calling it a sno-ball,” I say, handing her one. “It’s a nod to one of my favorite scenes in the movie.”
“The stolen movie?”
“Stop, I’m actually starting to feel bad.”
“Good,” she says, nudging me with her elbow. We both sit on the couch, and I grab a slice of pizza. The movie starts, and I honestly forgot how gory it was, but thankfully she doesn’t seem to mind.
“You excited for Halloween next week?” I ask. “Feels like forever since the whole group has been together. It should be fun.”
“Definitely.” She sips her drink. “Wow, this is delicious.”
“The recipe was easy. I can teach you how to make it if you want?”
“I’d like that,” she says, her lips curling upward. “So what did you decide to dress up as?”
“It’s a surprise.”
She tilts her head. “Come on. I’ll tell you what I’m wearing, if you tell me what you’re wearing.”
“Not a chance,” I tease. “But you could tell me yours?”
“No way I’m telling you mine.” She shakes her head. “Fair’s fair.”
“Can I get a hint?”
“Can I?” she asks, tipping the corner of her mouth into a sexy grin.
“No.”
“Then no.” She turns back to the TV and laughs at the movie.
We both sit there in silence, watching the screen. It’s a good movie, funnier than I remember it being, but my mind keeps wandering to The Local, and I wish it would stop.
“I’ve been thinking about the camps you want to open.” I say, catching her attention. “Will you tell me more about them?”
Maybe hearing more about her dreams will distract me from mine.
She breathes out a long breath, pulling one of her knees to her chest. “Oh, gosh. They seem like such a far off dream. Right now I’m just focusing on saving money. I’ll be lucky if I have them up and running a decade from now.”
