Page 56 of Gin and Bear It

“You think people from high school would still think that you’re an asshole? Based on what you said about having a hard time reconciling the past and current versions of people?” I ask.

He looks at me, thoughtful.

“Don’t know. But also, I’ve been somewhat of a public figure. There’s photos of me partying and being a fucking wreck. I don’t come off that well.”

As I’ve noticed before, he says it casually, but something tells me he doesn’t feel that way about his recent past.

“Do you miss partying?” I ask.

“Mm.” He pauses again. “I miss something about it. I’m just not sure what that is right now.”

His brows furrow a little bit as he stares off into space. I didn’t mean to send him deep into thought, but now he’s made me curious. Will this year be the most boring year of his life? Even if his band sucked to be around, it’s probably more interesting to travel to new cities and meet new people all the time than go to a drive-in and see people from decades ago in the place you left as soon as you could.

“You want snacks?” he finally asks.

“Sure, yeah,” I say.

We go to the concession stand, choosing popcorn and M&Ms to snack on. By the time we get back to our car, the previews have begun. There are only two for the movies they’ll show at the next drive-in, and the movie starts shortly after.

I love a ridiculous movie, but this movie is starting off a little too strong.

“This girl is not for real,” I say, reaching across the car to grab more popcorn. “Sorry, I tend to do running commentary when I’m not watching a movie in theaters.”

“It’s fine. It’s not like I need to pay attention all that hard for this and no one can hear us. And what, you’ve never fallen gracefully down the stairs and into a scuba instructor’s arms?” Ash scoffs and tilts the tub toward me so I can easily grab some kernels.

“I can’t say I have.” I tip the popcorn into my mouth, then wipe my hands on a napkin. “The stupidity of it is kind of appealing, though.”

“For you, maybe.”

“You’ve been sitting in rapt attention since the movie started,” I point out.

“All five minutes of it.” He snorts. We fall silent for another few moments. “Why is he trying to flirt with her when she’s under the water for the first time? She can barely walk on land.”

I laugh. “Because it’s a movie. And maybe he wants her to drown so he can save her. Maybe that’s his whole M.O.”

“That kind of darkness would make this interesting.” He glances around. “I think we should sit closer together.”

I pause. “Right. For the PI.”

“For the PI.”

He puts his arm across my shoulders. It’s warm and just heavy enough to make me feel secure. I want to lean into him, completely let go so I can soak up his warmth. But that feels a little too thirsty, so I just lean into him a tiny bit.

At least at first. Because the longer this movie goes on, the more the stupidity of it suctions out my will to live. I lean into him more and more as I laugh, and he doesn’t push me away. He snarks about the movie with me, too.

If it were a real date, I’d be very pleased.

Eventually the movie ends, but Ash doesn’t move. His calloused fingertips skim across my arm, sending tingles up and down it.

“That movie was terrible,” he says.

“I know. I’m sorry. But it was fun, at least,” I say, grabbing more popcorn. The popcorn migrated into his lap, right above his crotch.

We sit there as people get out of their cars to stretch their legs, his arm still around me and my body still pressed up against him. With the lights on, my paranoia about being seen comes rushing back.

“Don’t panic,” he says quietly in my ear. He presses his lips against the side of my neck, once, then again. “The PI is nearby.”

I don’t panic, because whatever he’s doing to my neck disconnected everything in my brain from rational thought. My nerve endings light up and I lean into his touch blindly. My body just wants more.