Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 100612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Yeah, bruh. It’ll be fine.
Finally, I feel myself drifting off, lids heavy. Brain foggy. Rhino mascot. Pizza. Wind in my hair, Marcus’s Jeep.
The hockey locker room.
Brown hair.
Blond hair.
Maddie and her pretty face lurk in the recesses of my mind.
Harper and her laugh.
Maddie and her smirk.
Harper…
Chapter 16
Harper
Meet us at the theater in an hour, the text from my best friend reads, followed immediately by another:
We’re going to the movies for a double date and you can’t say no…
Double date?
My stomach drops. Is she referring to Easton?! How long have they been planning this? I start to type, just as another message from her pops up.
Macy: Promise me you’ll take Easton home so I can be alone with Marcus after?
A smiley face follows it before I can say no. Setting my phone down, I groan. She knows I can never resist her when she begs!
My bestie is one clever manipulator, I’ll give her that.
An hour later, I pull into the movie theater parking lot and begin the search for a spot, one row after the next, driving farther and farther from the entrance of the building because of all the vehicles that beat me to the good spaces.
I park in the last row.
Tug at the hem of my denim skirt when I slide out the driver’s side, then futz with my top—a cropped T-shirt—so distracted by my outfit that I almost forget my keys.
This isn’t a real date, I remind myself as the marquee lights of the theater flicker and glow in the dark evening sky, casting a neon radiance across the pavement.
The place is busier than usual. Loud.
I do a quick scan of the lobby—couples, families, and groups of friends in line for tickets and snacks—spotting Macy first, her brown curls swaying as she flirts animatedly with Marcus. As if sensing me, my best friend looks up and waves, her smile wide and genuine, the kind of smile that makes you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.
I relax a little, my body less tense.
But then I see Easton.
Standing off to the side, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans, he is the picture of casual indifference as he glances this way and that.
Looking for me? Probably not, but a girl can hope.
I straighten my spine when our eyes meet; his go straight to my face…my shirt…my skirt…my legs as I approach, and I catch a small quirk to his lips. A subtle look of appreciation.
“Hey, you,” Macy chirps, saving me from my self-consciousness, wrapping me in one of her quick hugs before turning back to Marcus. She bounces on the balls of her feet. “So. We were thinking about seeing that new horror movie. You know—the one with the creepy doll that terrorizes her entire family?”
“I heard it has tons of jump scares.” Marcus grins. “What do you think?”
I glance at Easton. I can’t help but notice how the blue of his shirt brings out the blue of his eyes. Le Sigh.
“You good with that?” I ask him.
He nods. “Since I’m not the one who has to hold Macy’s hand when she freaks.”
Macy nudges him with her shoulder, bumping his closer toward me. “You can hold her hand instead.”
Easton’s gaze darts to mine.
Tension fills the air.
For a split second, his eyes fall to my chest. Stomach.
My stomach flutters.
Butterflies? Could it be?
“Let’s get the tickets before all the good seats are gone,” I proclaim, breaking our contact and ignoring Macy’s matchmaking scheming. “I hate sitting near the front.”
Easton agrees. “Same.”
Together the four of us make our way to the ticket counter, where three very bored-looking teenagers stand behind touch screens, not looking up as we approach. Macy generously pays for everyone—compliments of her parents—while we wait.
Easton leans in closer, close enough that I can feel his warm breath against my ear. “You owe me one.”
I glance at him, puzzled. “Owe you? For what?”
Easton falls into step beside me, our arms accidentally brushing.
I ignore the spark.
“I’ve lost count of all the things you’ve roped me into at this point. Showing up tonight. Prom. Decorating.” It sounds like he’s teasing? “Now we’re on a date.”
“I had no part in this,” I whisper at him. “I was just as roped in as you were. So technically this doesn’t count. You could have said you were busy.”
“This counts,” he insists, glancing up at the theater menu for snacks, ordering a large popcorn, candy, and two large soft drinks.
“It doesn’t.” I shake my head. “You won’t convince me otherwise.”
He turns to face me while he digs in his wallet and pulls out cash to pay for our food. “Why are you so stubborn?”
My mouth opens. Closes.
I flounder like a guppy. “I’m not?”
Easton laughs, taking the soda while I grab everything else. Popcorn. Napkins. Stick two straws in our soft drinks.
We walk side by side.