Page 24 of Rush

I spin on my heel and stomp into the theater.

It’s not until I reach the queue for tickets when I realize that he’s standing right behind me.

For fuck’s sake!

“Stop following me,” I hiss at him.

“I’m not.” He gives me a look of innocence, shoulders lifting. “I’m just going to watch the movie.”

“The movie you don’t want to watch.”

His lips widen into a grin.

“God, you’re such a jackass! Just go away and leave me alone, please.”

My voice hitches on the word please, and afraid I might burst into tears or punch him in his handsome, arrogant face, I turn around, moving forward, as the queue shifts.

A moment later, I feel heat at my back and almost jump out of my skin when I feel his hot breath against my ear.

“Now, now, Jailbird, there’s no need to be so bitchy.”

I almost bite my tongue off at that. I turn my head to him to tell him to fuck off, but I misjudge how close he actually is. My nose bumps his, our lips literally centimeters apart.

My breath catches. My body freezes. My nose floods with his scent. Woodsy-scented aftershave and the smell of mint on his breath.

Every feminine part of me comes to life. It’s like my body is suddenly wide awake after a long stretch of being dormant and is saying, Well, hello there, man with a penis. It’s been a while. Wanna come play?

I hear him suck in a breath, and his eyes flicker down to my lips.

I lick them without conscious thought, and his eyes ignite with fire, causing a tightening in my lower belly.

Jesus.

I exhale a ragged breath. His eyes lift to mine.

“You want to kiss me, Jailbird?” he whispers and inches closer. So close that I feel his lips brush mine when he talks again. “Yeah…” he breathes out. “That’s never going to happen.”

Everything good I was feeling inside dies. My face stings with embarrassment.

I straighten up, arms crossing over my chest. “I know it wouldn’t because I would rather kiss herpes than you, you arrogant prick.”

“God, I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

He smirks, and I give him the middle finger.

I face forward and walk straight toward the now-open ticket booth, ignoring the rumble of laughter behind me.

“One to see The Greatest Showman, please,” I say to the girl at the counter.

I pay for my ticket and walk straight in the direction of the food, not giving him a backward glance.

After buying a large tub of popcorn and a soda with no more sightings of Ares, hopefully meaning he got the message and left, I head into the theater.

There are a few people already seated. I wander down and take a seat in the middle of the theater, a couple in from the end of the aisle.

I put my soda in the cupholder and my popcorn on the ground by my feet while I dig my glasses out of my bag.

I need them for reading and watching TV. I mostly forget to wear them, but I need them for the movies, as the screen is bright and big, and I’ll get a headache if I don’t use them.