It’s stressful choosing a movie for someone you don’t know all that well. We’ve never talked about movies or music or anything like that.
Ignoring his last statement, I click on a new release,Captain Marvel, one I hope he likes. I wanted to see it in the theaters, but it’s expensive. I mean, by the time you buy popcorn, you’ve dropped thirty bucks. “How’s this?” I nod toward the television. “I mean, it’s not MILF porn, but it’s okay.”
When he throws his head back to laugh and hits it on the wall behind the sofa, I lose my shit. I laugh so damn hard I nearly pee myself. When I take a breath, I see he’s now slumped over his legs, his body still vibrating with laughter, but he gets out, “Oh, bloody hell, woman.” He sits up and covers his face with both of his hands, trying to get himself under control. “Quinn, love, you’re hilarious.”
That makes me smile as I wipe the wetness from my eyes. Yep, I laughed so hard, I cried.
Cooke bends forward and reaches for me at the same time. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls me into a hug. “Come ’ere, Quinn. Sit close.”
So I do. I scoot over and lean back until my head sits perfectly between his arm and chest. No place I’ve ever been has felt so good.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Imust’ve dozed off. I wake up blinking, still in Cooke’s arms, but the television is off and it’s dark outside.
“Why’d you let me sleep?” I whine, because damn it, we’ve only got this one night.
“You conked out as soon as the movie started. You looked like an angel. I didn’t want to wake you. But we need to go. I want to take you somewhere.”
“We’ll be back, right?” I want to sleep in his bed. “You’re not taking me home yet, right?”
Cooke kisses me softly. “No, of course not.”
Thank God.
Cooke takes my hand and leads me out of the room, down the hallway, into the elevator, and out to the first floor, then his car.
“Where are we going?” I mean, it’s late.
“You’ll see. Stop asking,” he says giving me a quick kiss on my cheek.
“Fine.”
Once we’re in the car, I pay close attention to the direction he’s going. When he pulls his car onto the road that leads around the Memorial Union, I ask, “Are we going to the Campanile?”
“Of course. I can’t let anyone else kiss my girl at the stroke of midnight under that thing, now can I?”
I shake my head. I can’t speak. I’m getting choked up because, honest to God, I never thought I’d ever get a kiss there, at any time.
Cooke finds a spot right in front of the Campanile, because of course he does. I pull the handle and start to push the door open when he appears at my side. “Milady,” he says with a bow. My goodness, the man makes me giggle.
“Thank you, kind sir.” I do my best English accent, but it sounds more like… well, not like an English accent. I’m sure I’m red from embarrassment, but it’s dark, so who cares? Speaking normally, I ask, “What time is it?”
“We’ve got five minutes until midnight.”
“Just in time.”
Cooke pulls me along until we’re in front of the clock tower. “Now what?” he asks, looking down at me.
I point to one of the four archways at the base of the tower. “I think we go inside, underneath, to, uh, to kiss.”
We both walk through the closest archway and wait, still holding hands. “Two minutes,” Cooke says, moving closer. Pulling his hand from mine, he wraps both around me, tugging me closer. “Are you ready, love?”
“I am.”
We stare into each other’s eyes as time ticks away. Just as Cooke starts to lower his head, the clock tower starts to gong. And by gong, I mean G-O-N-G. It’s loud!
“Bloody hell,” Cooke says, placing his hands over his ears. “Fecking hell.”
