I stare at her for a beat, then grin. “Alright, Peach. You pick the time.”
I can’t believe I just agreed to watch a movie called Barbie. What the hell has happened to me? But the way she’s looking at me right now, eyes wide, lips parted, like I just handed her the moon, I know there’s no universe where I could say no.
“Really?” she breathes, her whole face lighting up.
Damn it, I feel something in my chest. Warmth. A dangerous kind.
“Really,” I say, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll go see the Barbie movie. And I’ll even buy you popcorn.”
She laughs, giddy and unfiltered. “Thank you.” Then kisses me, soft and sweet, like she means it. Like we mean something.
I start to deepen it, chasing that taste, but before I can really sink into it, she pulls away. “I should go get started on the dress,” she says, her hands dragging slowly down my bare chest like she’s reluctant to leave.
I sigh, kissing her one last time. “Fair enough. But we’re eating first. Then we can both get some work done. I’m not letting you starve again.”
She smiles up at me. “Aw, look at you. Wanting to take care of me.”
I shrug, trying to play it off, but her words hit deeper than I want to admit. I do want to take care of her. That’s the problem. “Someone has to,” I say with a smirk. “You’re a handful.”
She laughs and slips out of the bedroom, and I watch her go, shirt hanging off her shoulder, bare legs still marked with last night’s sin.
My heart kicks hard against my ribs.
No. Fuck, no.
This isn’t a date. This isn’t sweet. This isn’t… whatever my heart is trying to whisper to me.
It’s just sex.
Just a movie.
Just her.
Just…
Fuck.
As we walk into the theater, she’s clutching a pink blanket she insisted on bringing. Of course she’s one of those people who brings a blanket to the movies. She’s also dressed from head to toe in pink. I have never seen an adult this obsessed with pink before.
The movie starts, and she’s all in, eyes glued to the screen, hand clutching the corner of her blanket. I’m trying to pay attention to the film, but it’s hard when all I can focus on is her, how she bites her lip when she’s concentrating, the way she giggles at the jokes, her head tilting closer to my shoulder as she gets more comfortable.
By the time we’re halfway through, I feel her head gently drop onto my shoulder. I glance down and smile softly. She’s out like a light, breathing softly, her face relaxed. I should wake her up, but I can’t bring myself to do it. She looks so peaceful, and I know she’s been stressed out lately with everything going on with us.
But there’s a problem. My arm is completely numb, pinned between her head and the seat. I try to shift a little, but it just makes her snuggle closer, her blanket slipping off her lap and onto me. Great, now I’m wrapped in pink fluff. Still, I don’t move. I can’t. I’d endure a thousand pins and needles to keep her like this, comfortable and safe.
I keep watching the ridiculous film. Why? I don’t know, especially since I know she’s already seen it multiple times.You don’t know, really? You’re sitting here, fully invested in Barbie, and she’s asleep on you? Congratulations, genius. This is peak softboy energy.
I ignore my very loud, very wrong subconscious and keep watching the movie.
She’s still asleep, even as the credits roll, curled up against me like she plans to stay there forever. So I pull out my phone, figuring I might as well get some work done while I’m stuck here.
Thirty minutes later, I notice one of the theater staff members hesitantly approaching us. His steps are careful, and he looks like he’s trying not to breathe too loudly. I give him a curious smile, but I can already guess what he’s about to say.
“Excuse me, sir,” he whispers, wringing his hands nervously. “The movie’s over, and we need to prepare for the next show. You’ll have to?—”
“Shh,” I cut him off gently, raising a finger to my lips before pointing to the sleeping beauty curled up on my shoulder. Her peaceful expression makes my heart feel like it might burst.
The staff member freezes, his eyes darting between us. “But we have a schedule, and?—”
