“Knowing he hurt you was enough for me.”
A long moment passes, the movie a dull background noise compared to my pulse in my ears. Fable’s expression is full of tenderness and warmth—the kind that can only be found in the hazel depths of her eyes.
Finally, she says, “You’re right that you probably shouldn’t have hit them, but it sure sounds like you’ve learned better. You were a kid, going through hell, and your emotions were all over the place.” She sighs, shaking her head. “How long has it been since you actually fought with someone?”
I swallow thickly. “Since freshman year of college.”
She nods like she expected that answer. “I think you should forgive younger-Theo for the choices he made. Because the truth is, you’re protective and kind and trustworthy. You stand up for the people who need help. You’re a safe space, and I’veneverthought you weren’t.” A few beats pass before she adds, “I’m not trying to convince you to be in a relationship, get married, have kids... any of that. Ijust don’t want you to have to carry that guilt anymore. It’s gotta be heavy.”
I picture younger-Theo, with that dark cloud around his head and his heart. He was so lost and betrayed and confused. I wish I could give him the hug he desperately needed. That guilt washeavy then, and I don’t think it’s gotten any lighter, even after years of carrying it.
“Hey,” Fable says a few minutes later, mouth full of the last of her fries. “You didn’t actually punch Philip. That’s an improvement, see?”
I force a laugh, trying to bring us back to something lighter. “I did take his phone, turn it off, and hide it behind the dumpster, though.”
“You did not,” she gasps, eyes wide.
“Definitely did.”
“Personally, I think that shows remarkable self-control.” She lifts her bottle to mine, the glass clinking as they tap together. “Think he ever found it?”
“He probably just bought a new one.”
“It’s nice to imagine about him rooting around in the dumpster for it though,” she says, smiling fondly at the thought. Picking up her cup of ranch, she places it between us on the blanket. “We can share this, if you want.”
It’s a generous offer. Fable sharing her ranch is pretty much an invitation to be her best friend.
But then she reaches over me to steal a handful of my fries. “And we can share these.”
I burst out laughing, snagging her beer in retaliation. She giggles, stretching under my arm to grab the whole container of fries and hide it behind her back, and I’m helpless to stop her, too busy trying to keep the ranch from tipping over.
“Thank you,” she says sweetly, the picture of innocence as she dunks two fries in the ranch.
Chapter 25
Fable
I’m learning something about myself this evening: I don’t mind scary movies when the setting is right. And the setting isrightwhen I’m reclining back against Theo in the bed of his truck, my hips between his spread thighs.
All it took was one brief mention that the ridges on the back of the cab were digging into my shoulders, and before I knew it, Theo was grabbing me by the waist, pulling me into his lap, and tossing the quilt over us.
He seems to have relaxed since our conversation earlier. That sad, haunted look in his eyes had my heart breaking for him. Ididn’t realize how much his father’s actions were still impacting his life, and it makes me wonder if he shares that piece of himself with anyone else. Do Mia and Eva know he’s still struggling so much? Is he able to be honest with Maddox? Is he going to therapy?
But I keep those questions to myself for tonight, because his demeanor has lightened significantly, and I don’t want to bring him back down. We’ve been laughing and bickering about the characters’ decisions, sharing cupcakes, and finishing off acouple more drinks. I had a brief moment of wondering if we’ve lost the plot on this event, because it’s feeling startlingly date-like and not nearly fake enough, but I’ve been having too much fun to overanalyze it.
It must be close to midnight now andScream 3has just started. About half the other cars have gone home, leaving us all alone in the back row, tucked into the dark corner, and my body is hyperaware of that information. I’m way too distracted by his hand resting on my thigh beneath the blanket to be scared of this ridiculous movie. Ican’t sit still—my blood is close to boiling simply because of Theo’s proximity, and every muscle is coiled, waiting forsomething. Ijust don’t know what.
My heart is thumping loudly against my ribs, and it doesn’t have anything to do with the movie. Iadjust my hips again, planting my hands on his thighs.
Theo’s lips graze the shell of my ear as he murmurs, “Why are you squirming so much?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
A low hum rumbles against my cheek. “I think you do.”
I clear my throat. Squirm again. But don’t reply.
“Is it because you’re scared of the movie?”
