Page 27 of Mr. Brightside

“What are we watching?” he asks.

“It’s Jim Carrey night,” I explain, handing him a water bottle, a can of Cheerwine, and a beer. I may have overdone it with the beverage choices, but I wanted him to have options. “First up isLiar Liar, followed byThe Truman Show.”

He wrinkles his nose and looks at the various drink options now taking over every cup holder in the vehicle. ”Liar Liar? Really?”

I scoff at his dismissal. “It’s a classic! Please don’t tell me you don’t like it, or I’m going to have to rethink this whole arrangement.”

He shoves me playfully and mutters something about “already too late” under his breath as I dump my bag of tricks on the dash. I admittedly went overboard with the snacks, too, but I don’t know what he likes, and I didn’t want to text him and give away the surprise. I brought chips, Skittles, Junior Mints, Sno-Caps, Sour Patch Kids, Airheads, and Buncha Crunch.

“That’s probably something you should know about me. I love movies from the nineties. Like, seriously love them. My dad had this theater room in the basement of the house where I grew up, and I would spend entire weekends camped out down there, watching movies. That and my bedroom were the only places I liked in that damn house.”

“How many people were you planning to feed tonight?” he muses, looking over his choices before reaching for the box of Sno-Caps. So he’s a chocolate guy. Noted.

“I just wanted my future husband to have options.” I eye him playfully, then snag a bag of Skittles for myself. “I’ll admit, though, I’m grateful you didn’t try to claim these.” I shake the bag for emphasis before tearing it open with my teeth.

His pupils dilate as he watches me, and I can’t hold back thehmphof satisfaction at knowing I affect him just as much as he affects me.

“Would you have let me have them?” he asks huskily, leaning close enough that I can smell the chocolate on his breath.

“Yes,” I answer honestly. “What’s mine is yours, right? Marriage is about compromise.”

He bites down on his bottom lip, and a carnal urge to replace his teeth with mine hits me. He’s got these full, plush lips that I’m aching to get reacquainted with. His eyes track mine, and he cocks one eyebrow, his smile deepening.

“Good answer,” he whispers, leaning in another inch and getting close enough I can feel the heat of his breath on my neck. But just as quickly as he kicked things up, he pulls back.

“So you love movies from the nineties, and your favorite candy is Skittles. What else do I need to know about you, Jake Whitely?”

“Ask me anything,” I offer, waving my hand with a flourish.

“And you’ll answer honestly?” he challenges.

I don’t miss the hint of skepticism behind his question.

“Tell ya what,” I say, glancing at the screen as the opening credits start. “From now until the end of this movie, I’ll be Fletcher Reede. Ask me anything, and I’ll tell you nothing but the truth.”

“No exceptions?”

“Nope. Nothing’s off limits. But I do have a condition.”

He scowls slightly, creating this little wrinkle above his nose where his eyebrows pull together.

“What’s that?” he questions.

“I get to ask you questions, too.”

Chapter 13

Cory

I’msittingintheprivacy of Jake’s Jeep, totally ignoring the movie he brought me to see, completely transfixed by him. He’s given me an opening: I can ask him anything, and he’ll answer honestly.

I don’t even know where to begin. I’m going to be a therapist, for crying out loud. This should be second nature. I settle on simple to start, knowing I want to grill him and really dig deep before the night is over.

I clear my throat before speaking. “Okay. What did you want to be when you grew up?”

“Alive,” he answers without hesitation.

Mierda. Is he serious right now? He holds eye contact as I try to read him.