Page 26 of Mr. Brightside
What the hell kind of question is that? I slump against the painted cinderblock wall of the stairwell. I sound pathetic. And I just set him up to reply with a cringe-worthy joke at my expense.
Jake-Work: Something casual. Bring a jacket or hoodie. Let’s meet in the parking lot behind Clinton’s at 9 pm. I’ll drive.
I blow out a long breath, grateful he didn’t take the low-hanging fruit and tease me. I like that we’re meeting on neutral ground and that he offered to drive. I’m exceptionally curious about what sort of date starts at nine p.m., though.
I heart his text so he knows I saw it, then second-guess that response, too. He won’t read too much into that, will he?
I repocket my phone and jog down the four flights of stairs. It’s already late afternoon, and I still have to stop by the registrar’s office before I can head home and get ready. I’ve got an extra spring in my step as I walk out of Gray Hall.
I have a date with Jake.
The practical part of my brain reminds me that I also have a pending marriage ceremony and two years of commitment ahead of me, but I don’t let those thoughts linger. I’ll have plenty of time to stress about this whole marriage of convenience arrangement in the coming days. For now, all I want to worry about is finding the perfect “casual” outfit for tonight.
Chapter 12
Jake
Iturnintothegravel driveway, easing up on the gas as my Jeep joins the line of cars waiting to get in. I’ve been sneaking peeks at Cory the whole way here, but now I really can’t resist drinking him in.
He’s wearing this sharp cream-colored pullover with dark jeans, and his hair’s meticulously styled. He’s got this comb over fade and a hard part that’s hot as hell. I itch to outline the edge of his clean-shaven jawline and graze my fingers over the blunt sides of his head.
He must feel my eyes on him because he smirks in my direction, then sits up straighter in his seat. “You brought me to the drive-in for our first date?”
I spent most of the morning Googling “best first date ever” and “unique date ideas.” It wasn’t until I saw the suggestion online that I remembered the drive-in past Holt had been running old movies on weeknights. And by “old,” I mean classics from the eighties and nineties. Tonight’s lineup is a Jim Carrey double feature.
“I did.” I grin proudly. I’m pretty pleased that I came up with this idea on my own. All damn day, I was tempted to text Rhett, but I knew he’d have too many questions aboutwhoI was taking on a date and why. Cory and I agreed not to tell anyone except for Mike and his grandma about our marriage until things were official, and I didn’t want my best friend asking questions I couldn’t answer.
Cory makes a sound of contempt that gets my attention.
“And here I thought you said we were going to take things slow.”
My eyes go wide at the callout.
“We are!” I insist, frantically looking from Cory to the car in front of me, then back as we inch forward toward the ticket booth.
“People usually come to the drive-in for a specific kind of date, Jake,” he teases.
Shit. Yeah, okay. He’s not wrong. But we’re not in high school, and it’s not like we’ve never hooked up before. I thought the drive-in stereotype didn’t apply after a certain age. But I’ll feel like a douche if he thinks I have an ulterior motive for tonight.
Do I want in his pants? Hell yes, I do. But only when we’re settled into this new relationship, and we’re both ready for that step.
I grip the steering wheel and grind my molars together as I scramble to come up with an alternative plan. There are two cars ahead of us still, so it’s not too late to turn around and take him somewhere else.
“Jake.”
His hand is warm on my arm, the contact sending a tingle of electricity through my body when his fingers run a soothing path back and forth over my skin.
Mischief dances in his eyes when I meet his gaze. “I’m just teasing you. Seriously. We’re both grown men. If you want to make out with me, just ask. We don’t have to sneak away to the drive-in for a bump and grind.”
I bite down on my lip and huff out a sigh. He really had me going.
“Sexual expectations aside”—I give him a pointed look—“I thought it was a decent idea. I brought snacks and we get to enjoy some quality entertainment.”
“It’s more than a decent idea,” he assures me, reaching across the console to grip my thigh.
I watch, transfixed, as his hand stretches out right above my knee. My abs clench with desire when he squeezes my leg once. Why is that so damn hot?
A car horn blasts behind me and jolts me back to reality. He chuckles under his breath as I pull up to the ticket booth. I roll down my window to pay for our admission, then accept the handout with the radio station information on it. I scope out a perfect spot a few rows from the front but off to the side. Once the Jeep’s in park, I unbuckle, reach behind me, and unpack the snacks.