Which made him question himself further. “I’d like to think I know what I’m doing.”
“How’s that working out for you?” She did the slow blink thing again.
“Seriously, if you have something to say, just spill it.” He paused, checking on Kellan once more. Still good. Still alive. Then back to the movie. Still just as bad as before. “Actually, don’t. I don’t need help. It’s all under control.”
She did a snort thing that was equal parts adorable and unnerving.
“Are you at least going to share your Milk Duds with me?” she asked all innocently.
He nodded as Kellan accepted the Milk Duds and Skittles before handing over the cash. Gavin let out a breath, reassured that Kellan was making the approved purchases and not getting into some guy’s van down by the river for the promise of Starbursts. “Since you shared your raisins, I believe I have to.”
Gavin didn’t mind sharing. Actually, he’d gotten so used to it over time that he over ordered for himself even when it was just him.
He’d always been the type of person who needed to be paired up. Even when it became clear the pairing wasn’t leading to anything permanent, he wanted—no, he needed—to have a person to lean on.
He was, of course, happy to return the favor for them.
But then he thought he’d met that special permanent person people always talked about… Dakota. He’d even convinced himself he could fall in love with her.
He didn’t. So Dakota left, and he didn’t blame her,
because he felt the relief, too, once things were over.
Clarity came with Dakota’s departure—he needed a solid dose of figuring himself out before he attempted another relationship. And that’s why he decided to take some time and figure out exactly what he wanted out of life. A relationship diet, of sorts.
His ex, Rachel, was now happily married. But she’d spent years content to putter through all life’s difficulties without a partner, figuring things out for herself. It had worked for her. So he figured he’d give it a shot, too.
Kellan returned to the dark theater with all his limbs still attached, Skittles, Milk Duds, change, and a new confidence that would do him well as he grew older.
Still, Gavin kept one eye on the boys, and the other on the show after everyone resettled. The flick was predictable beyond belief.
Lots of car chasing, and the ensuing blowing-up of said cars, should’ve held the audience’s attention. But not the pretty woman seated beside him.
The skin along his left side prickled again. He didn’t need to turn to see that Molly stole another glance his way. Not obviously so. She wouldn’t be obvious about it.
But Gavin had caught the quick looks Molly tossed his way since the movie had started. She kept looking at him like she didn’t know what to do with him.
Join the club, Molly.
He probably should’ve kept his mouth sealed shut instead of flapping on about all his screw-ups before the show. Those fuck ups had been many and varied throughout his lifetime, but that didn’t mean he needed to atone for them. Not to her.
He’d stopped worrying about what others thought of him a long time ago.
But Molly? Molly was different. She’d always been the one who made him uncomfortable because of the way she could look at a guy and seemed to see straight through to his soul. Like with the whole owl eye blinking thing. He shivered internally.
She clearly didn’t like what she saw in Gavin.
So, for most of his time spent in her presence, he’d always avoided her. Can’t blame someone for going with the simple route, right?
Until now.
Now, it seemed he didn’t want to stay away. She appeared to be his over-the-counter, way-too-available current drug of choice. The past few times they’d shared the same air, he’d wanted more. And that was not easy.
He could try to tell himself that this was only the result of his relationship fast.
Like the time he went paleo and gave up carbs. Then, toward the end, he said, “Fuck it, any carb is fine.”
Even those knock-off toaster tarts that were not up to his standards. On that note, he tossed back a caramel and chocolate Milk Dud.
