“Look who finally decided to show up.” His grin’s pure trouble, eyebrow cocked like he’s been waiting hours.
Hot embarrassment heats up my cheeks.
Shit. I completely forgot we had plans.
Playing it off, I check my phone. It’s only eight minutes past the hour.
“Sorry,” I mumble, sticking my tongue out. “Maybe if I didn’t have professors who love hearing themselves talk…” My voice breaks on the last word because Ben is closing the distance. His scent finds me first…fresh soap and something smoky, all male.
He glances at his watch, pretending to look annoyed. “You know, some people show up early for their dates. It’s this new trend called punctuality.”
I laugh in spite of my exhaustion , nerves scrambling my words. “Is it? I’ll have to Google it sometime.” My fingers fumble, unlocking the car, but Ben’s already reaching for my bag.
“Here. You look like you’re about to pass out.” He grabs the strap and tosses it effortlessly into the back seat, then leans in until I can feel his breath on my cheek. “Lucky for you, my rescue services are top notch.”
The way he says it, low and close, sends a thrill right down to my toes. Once again, heat blooms in my face. I should be used to it by now, but with Ben, never.
He steps back and props his hands behind him on the trunk, gaze sliding over me, hungry but playful. I bite my lip because suddenly my throat’s gone desert-dry.
“So,” I say, drawing it out, “are you going to tell me what you’ve got planned, or do I have to guess?”
Ben’s smile widens. He looks me up and down slowly, like he’s debating just how much to torture me. “No hints. Just trust me.” He tosses his keys up in the air, and catches them one-handed. Show off. “It’s a surprise. You’re following me.”
An actual shiver runs through me. Of course he’s in charge. And of course I love it.
I nod, maybe too eagerly. “Okay. Where are we going?”
He just winks. “You’ll see. Try not to get pulled over for speeding, okay?” Another onceover, and then he turns and hops into his truck, engine already rumbling to life.
My heart’s beating so hard I can barely breathe.
I sink into the driver’s seat, slamming the door quickly in case anyone’s watching, and immediately check the mirror. My hair’s a wreck, cheeks flushed, eyeliner smudged a little, but overall, not bad. I dig in my bag for gloss, swipe it on with a shaking hand. As if Ben would care, but still.
The radio boots up, and I click through three stations before giving up and just turning it off. My brain won't stop screaming noisy thoughts anyway. Where are we even going? I mean, obviously it’s a date. But with Ben, everything feels so much bigger than it should. Like he could change my whole world with one look.
He waits for me at the lot exit, idling with one arm draped over the wheel, sunglasses on even though the sun is going down. Yeah, he sees me staring. I try to play it cool but I’m not sure I’m doing a good job pulling it off.
He peels out slowly, the throaty growl of the diesel engine echoing back. I do my best to keep up, nerves tap dancing in my gut. My hands won’t stop fidgeting with the steering wheel, a death grip at ten and two, then at the base, then picking at my cuticles. Classic me. I catch myself glancing down at my skirt.Did I sit on it weird? Is it wrinkled? Are my knees blotchy? Ugh, get it together, April.
The city falls away fast once Ben veers on to the back roads. Wind whips through the crack in my window. Every few seconds, I check the mirror again, making sure what little makeup I’m wearing isn’t running, that I don’t have food in my teeth. I wish I’d worn something hotter, but Ben said he liked this skirt, so maybe I shouldn’t overthink it.
Who am I kidding; that’s all I do.
The drive stretches out, minutes ticking by. Trees blur on either side, the sky shifting to something softer, velvet-gray threaded with pink.
About fifteen minutes outside town, Ben’s taillights start to slow. There’s nothing out here except an old gas station, a dark vending machine buzzing in the corner of its lot, and…
There it is.
A drive-in theater.
It’s huge neon sign glowing against the dimming sky. “Moonlight Cinema” in giant block letters, with yellow bulbs. Below, the marquee advertises tonight’s double feature.
My mouth actually drops open. This is…so retro, it’s almost romantic. Not what I pictured from the king of tattoos and brooding vibes, but somehow it fits him. Totally unpredictable and somehow perfect.
Ben takes the ramp up to the entrance, and I fall in behind him. There’s a line of cars…families in minivans, couples in trucks with blankets spread out in the beds. My nerves go from humming to full-on buzzing.
He pays for both of us at the little booth, then motions for me to follow as he picks a spot. I park next to him, hands shaking so bad I almost miss the gear shift.
