Page 18 of Should Our Hearts Catch Fire

“16, 17…oh, sorry guys.” He always feels bad when he has to ask people to move so he can get to his seat. “We just need to get—Oh. Hey!” His vision having adjusted to the lack of light, he recognizes Dawson and Kieran.

The initial confusion clears from their features, and they smile at him. “Hey, Gabe!” Dawson whisper-shouts over thecommercial, blinking in surprise when he notices Ash. “Hey, Ash! Small world, huh.”

Ash smiles back. “It is.” His gaze shifts to Kieran, curious. As far as Gabe is aware, the two of them haven’t met.

“Are you sitting next to us?” Kieran asks, he and Dawson standing up to make room.

“A little further down, actually, but…” Gabe shrugs, figuring they might as well take the seats here since the row is empty otherwise. They can always move if someone comes who has the tickets for the seats. “We can park here.”

“Great!”

Gabe sits next to Dawson, with Ash on his left and Kieran on Dawson’s right. He taps Ash’s arm, nodding at Kieran. “This is Kieran, by the way. Kieran, that’s Ash.”

Kieran’s friendly smile freezes. “Ash…” He turns to Dawson. “Your shrink?”

“My therapist, yes,” Dawson corrects, his tone suggesting that his going to therapy is something he has discussed with Kieran before and did not enjoy it.

Kieran huffs. “Yeah, whatever.”

Okay. That’s interesting. Plenty of people are judgmental about therapy, but Gabe had no idea Kieran is one of them. He’s so chill most of the time.

Ash leans forward, angling his body so he can see Kieran. “And you’re Dawson’s best friend.”

“Yup.” Kieran pops thep, then does a double take. “Wait, you guys talk about me?” He glares at Ash accusingly, then Dawson, then Ash.

Gabe clutches the popcorn to his chest and slides down the seat, trying to blend into the fabric.

“I can’t discuss my patients,” Ash says haughtily, making Gabe groan. Why is it that Ash enjoys conflict so much?

“Dude, you recognized my name. Obviously, you talk about me.”

“Guess you answered your own question, then.” Ash shrugs, the picture of indifference.

Gabe elbows him, but only gets his arm.

Kieran’s nostrils flare. “You—”

“Kieran…” Dawson says pleadingly. Miraculously, it works. Kieran settles—somewhat—though the energy in the air is enough to choke Gabe.

He coughs to disperse it. It doesn’t do much. “O-kay. Awkward.”

When the commercials end and trailers start, the air has cleared up a little, allowing Gabe to relax. It doesn’t last long.

“How are you, Dawson?” Ash asks.

“Good. I have a good story for you when I see you next.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup. It involves painting and cacti.”

“Sounds like an intriguing combination.”

“Dude, seriously?” Kieran snaps, glaring daggers at Ash. “He’s your patient. Are you even allowed to talk to him outside of work?”

“We’re just chatting, Kieran,” Dawson says irritably.

“You usually pay him for chatting. Pretty sure there are some rules about this.”