I turn to see Brielle, who, as usual, is oblivious and doesn't realize she's got an audience as she works to hold the one of the large bags of popcorn, the three candy boxes, and Becks's frozen Coke slush drink. I feel my temper start to flare when I notice the top of her dress is pulled down to reveal a decent amount of cleavage.
My first thought is damn, this girl should come with a warning. My second, "Is that all you need?" I clear my throat, shoving the thin slip of paper back at the kid, narrowing my eyes.
"Oh. . . um. . . no. I mean, yes. Yes, sir."
I arch my brow and grab the rest of the haul. Brielle is already a few steps ahead of me, waiting at the ticket stand. I shoot popcorn boy one last glare before I wonder if I’m wearing a “fuck with Theo” sign today.
I reach the ticket stand and find Brielle, chatting it up with another asshole. What the fuck? I reach in my pocket and pull out the tickets. "I can't take you anywhere," I say honestly. My temper is getting the better of me.
The nerdy asshole in front of me is still chuckling like a fool, when he looks over the top of his glasses and notices me. He immediately shuts up. His eyes drop to his work like they should have been all along.
"What do you mean?" Brielle smiles. Her casual demeanor only pisses me off more.
"I mean, do you ever go anywhere without being hit on?"
I know I've fucked up when I see her blush and her smile drops. The asshole in front of us nibbles at his lip, and I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath.
"Theatre six is down the hall to your left," the scrawny, little ticket puncher says. I reach out and take our stubs from him, when I notice Brielle is already ten feet ahead of me. "You’re a lucky, man. Your girlfriend is sexy."
What the hell did this kid just say to me?
"Are you trying to have me kick your ass, kid?"
“N- no, sir. Please don’t do that.”
I shake my head and offer the kid a tight smile before rushing off to catch up with my girl. In a stroke of pure luck, I manage to beat her to the door. I slide my arm in front of her, blocking her way.
"We're going to miss the movie." She rolls her eyes and reaches for the handle.
"You make that sound like a bad thing,” I tease in a poor attempt to make her smile. “Look, I don't care about seeing this movie, babe." I pull my arm from the door and reach out to touch her face. “I am sorry if I embarrassed you. I just don't like seeing other guys flirting with you."
"Theo, he was just being nice," she says, arms crossed as she stares up at me.
I nod, trying not to risk pissing her off further by telling her just how naive she is to the inner workings of the male mind—especially when it comes to assholes like me! My history of bad decisions weighs heavily on my shoulders. Before we came here, Wes and I had smashed through a pretty lengthy list of girls back in Lubbock. We met on campus at Texas Tech—through a bet—and ever since then, it’s been a nonstop party. Until now.
“I’m sure that’s. . . exactly what t-that was.”
Brielle reaches out and takes my arm. Her fingers wrap my bicep as she kisses my cheek. I bend down and turn into her kiss, the tension in my shoulders unraveling as I do. God, I love her.
"Excuse me."
We hear a voice behind us, causing us to turn around and come face-to-face with an old lady and her granddaughter, who has a wide-eyed stare and a gaping mouth. I roll my eyes. What now? Does granny want a piece of my girl too?
“You’re blocking the entrance. Honestly, this is a public theater. . . no one here wants to see that.”
Seriously? This lady is pissed about a little PDA, yet the Harley Quinn movie she's about to walk into is perfectly acceptable?
"Oh, we're so sorry," Brielle steps up to say, moving to the side to pull the door open for them. "Enjoy the movie."
That's my girl. A fucking angel . . . sent here to tame this modern-day devil. Too bad she's too nice for her own good. My rottenness will surely corrupt her—if it hasn't already, remembering her new feisty side, which seemed to appear overnight.
"Come on." Brielle giggles. "Let's get inside before Becks gets angry and eats Wes."
"I'm sure he wouldn’t mind the idea of that."
"What?"
I shake my head and pull the door open for her to walk in. "Nothing.”
“It’s about damn time!” Becks shouts.
My eyes flint up to the old woman, who’s seated behind our row. glaring daggers at the back of Becks’s head. I stifle a laugh. This poor lady. She has no idea what she just bought tickets too. A fucking hour-and-forty-nine minutes of explicit language violence, and sexual content. That's a long time for her to spend rolling those judgmental eyes of hers. They may pop right out of her head.
"Becks, can you go down a little further?" Brielle arches her brow, waiting for Wes to finish grabbing their snacks from her hands.
"Not without dinner and a movie first." She laughs. Wes licks his lips as if thinking about Becks going down somewhere, while my girl looks at them, unimpressed.
"Right. Well, we'll catch y’all later," Wes calls behind them, seeing Becks stand. They turn in the opposite direction and begin moving down the aisle.
What the hell? I sit back in my chair.
Brielle mindlessly pops a handful of popcorn into her mouth. "Don't worry; they’re not leaving." She reaches for her water bottle.
"Then where are they going?"
"To the back."
The back?
What was the point of getting these specific seats? I begin silently asking myself until I see Brielle flash me a look and I suddenly have my answer.
"Oh."
"Yup." She rocks her head toward me on the seat. Her hair pushes up behind her head. "Becks has this weird obsession with DC Comics. For some reason, she says they make her—"
"Whoa, okay. You know what, I’ll take your word for it."
This shit is the reason why I don't do double dates. They're fucking weird.
My mind freezes when I feel Brielle's hand move to my knee. The tiny tips of her slim fingers are swirling over my jeans. "You'll be fine." She smiles as if reading my mind. "After the movie, we'll all go to dinner, and then we're free for the rest of the night to do whatever you want."
"Whatever I want?"
I lick my lips at all the possibilities, when the lights dim, and the preview trailers start to roll. We recline back in our seats as she raises the armrest in between us so she can snuggle against my side. The faint smell of her coconut shampoo teases my nostrils each time she wriggles under my arm.
I catch her feet dancing to the beat of the music. The tiny movements make me smile. The sight of it dredges up an old memory, of Brielle and me, sitting in an empty theatre—much like this one—waiting for Mason to come back with the snacks. Like today, her feet danced to the beat of the music as we played Truth or Dare until the lights cut down. I let out a soft chuckle.
No matter how many times I would talk myself up to it, I could never form the words. The tiny dare I always wished I would have had the balls to ask. . . "I dare you to kiss me," I whisper into her ear.
"What?" Brielle smiles as if she were remembering the memory with me. Her eyes light up in a way that tells me she knows exactly what I'm talking about.
"I said, I dare you to—"
But I don't get to finish. She shifts in her seat and leans up to close her lips over mine. I let my tongue slide inside her mouth, and it's met by hers. The kiss is quick and rough, and when we pull away, we’re both panting.
Yeah, take that lady! The childish boy inside of me wants to turn around and yell at her.
"Where did that come from?"
"I've always wanted to kiss you in a movie theatre."
"Well, better late than never. I guess."
I brush her hair to the side as she lies back; the movie jumps into action.
Not much time has passed when I spot the old lady from before, practically dragging her granddaughter down the stairs and out
the theatre.
Wow, I'm impressed.
She lasted a whole twenty minutes.
I smile and settle back with Brielle. Someone really should have given her a heads-up. I hope she gives that scrawny ticket puncher a piece of her mind.
The rest of the movie passes in the blink of an eye. I can tell by the way Brielle is jumping around in her seat toward the end that she enjoyed it. She even yelled at one point when things got tense.
"Miss us?" Becks cackles as she and Wes come exiting out of the theatre and find us out in the hall.
I scratch my stubble and bite back what I really want to say. Her hair is a mess, and now there’s more lipstick on Wes than Becks.
"That movie was epic."
"Totally." Brielle looks up at me. Her small smile, a tell-all.
Yeah, too bad you weren't able to see any of it. I laugh silently and pull Brielle to me.
"Y’all ready to grab dinner?"
"I already gorged myself back in the theatre." Becks smirks, and I try not to gag. "But I could go for some pizza."
"Oh no. Not Joe's," Brielle immediately answers.
"Oh shit. That's right. Luca's softball team meets there, after practice, Wednesday nights."
Softball? Luca? I try not to laugh.
Either way, I'm with Brielle. I'm already having to share my time with these two. I don't want to risk running into him as well. "There's always Olive Garden," I offer. "Or Saltgrass? My treat?"
Becks walks over to me and slaps a hand on my shoulder. It takes everything I have not to swat her arm away. She stinks of sex—and not the good parts. "I've had enough meat in me for one night, Theo. But thanks for the offer. I'd love some pasta though."
Fucking hell, I groan on the inside, suddenly rethinking my proposition. Pizza would have been faster.
"You can never have enough meat!" Wes adds. The two of them are bouncing off one another like an old married couple. “See y’all there in twenty.
chapter thirty-three
THEO
Jack Mehoff, party of four?" The petite brunette behind the hostess stand smiles. Her eyes are fixated on me as she rounds the side and grabs a handful of menus.
Jack Mehoff? I shoot Wes a look, shaking my head. Fucking Wes. I hand the girl the buzzer. Her fingers take their time to brush against mine before she drops it back on the stand. "You can follow me to your table."
Fucking hell. I wrap my arm around Brielle and pull her to my side, hoping that this bitch will chill her approach. There's nothing worse than girls who can't take a hint. Brielle looks up at me before she thanks the girl. "What?" I lean into her hair and kiss the top of her head.
"Nothing."
We follow the hostess to our table. As requested, we're seated at one of the more private rooms—a small alcove, which could easily seat six, but because I prefer privacy, I made the request. The extra foot room isn't too bad, either.
I help Brielle in her chair, earning a rather toothy grin from Wes. "The fuck are you grinning at?" I roll my eyes.
"Nothing, man."
My phone vibrates the second my ass hits the chair.
Who the fuck . . .?
I reach in my pocket and pull it out. Fucking hell. It's my dad.
Have you handled the situation with the Sutton Girl?
There's no time to waste, Son. The ball is in two weeks!
How are things with Katrina?
Fuck. I pinch the top of my nose. What the hell am I supposed to say?
No?
Fuck off?
I choose Brielle.
No. No, no. Those answers would only result in a target on my girl’s back, and I won't let that happen. If I have any chance of making it through this shit, I'm going to have to play his game. Only better. Smarter.
I glance down at the screen before quickly typing a response.
Everything is good. See you next week.
I lie to bide myself more time. Everything is far from good.
I run a hand through my hair, feeling the stress piling up. Shit. This is going to end badly; I just know it. I can feel my nerves getting the best of me after I think about how pissed Brielle is going to be when I show up to the ball with Katrina. Since she left Monday morning, I’ve done nothing but rack my brain for ways around it, but I don’t see a solution.
At least, if I take Katrina, I can help seal the Overshire deal. Maybe then, that’ll help soften the blow of my leaving and make it a little more bearable. My father can find somebody else to use as his pawn. And if not, then I guess it’s war.
"Hey," Brielle says, the palm of her hand pressing along my cheek, "you okay?"
I set my phone down and take her hand in mine. I lift it to my mouth and gently kiss it. "Everything’s good." I stick to my same bullshit answer. It's just easier.
I try to smile in hopes that she won't see just how bad things really are, but I can tell that she isn't buying it. "O-Okay." She drops her hand. Her features hardening as she presses her lips into a thin line.
Damn it.
She knows me too well. I just can't win tonight.
Feeling the frustration of everything starting to weigh heavily on my mind. I need a release, and I doubt Brielle would be open to the idea of a detour to K.O. after we ditch the others. I drop my eyes to her lap. Her hands are folded gently over the top of it. Her short-ass dress is pulled up to reveal a good amount of skin. Fuck it. I did say I was going to take advantage of that dress.
I lift my eyes and find Becks and Wes are buried behind their menus, arguing over what appetizer they want to order first. I silently groan and roll my eyes. I knew offering to pay would mean this dinner was going to turn into a full five course meal—or two.
I push my eyes past them and find the rest of the restaurant is oblivious to us. Good. My hands grip the base of my chair as I slowly edge closer to Brielle. She's eyeing me from the side, but, apparently, she isn't talking to me. I reach out and take her hand. My fingers fight against hers as she tries to pull away from me. Doesn't she know there's no use in trying to fight this?
She's laughing when she finally gives in. Don't worry, I'm going to make it up to you. I mentally prepare her in my mind.
"What are you thinking about ordering?" she asks, finally relenting to my charms, and licks her lips. Her eyes are focused on the menu lying in front of her.
I cough to clear my throat. "The. . . um. . . the Chicken Fettuccini Alfredo is pretty good." I smile. It’s good, but it's not what I want. Maybe it would be if we had the restaurant to ourselves, and for dessert, I'd have her—on her knees—deep throating something other than cheesecake.
I drop my hand from hers and let it settle on her lap. My fingers press into the center of her thigh, and I hold it there. She wriggles from the contact, but I know she isn't about to say something in front of the others.
"What would you like, babe?" I meet her shocked expression with a smile. My eyes are glued to those full lips as they part.
"Um. . . I. . . I. . . um." I listen to her struggling to gets the words out. My fingers slowly creep up higher with every word. "I . . . I . . . um. . . t-the fettuccini sounds good." Her breaths are coming faster now as I slip my hand under her thong, my fingers quickly finding her clit as I begin circling it slowly. "O-oh. . . o-or the eggplant p-parmesan." She places her hand on the table. her fingers gripping the corner so tight that the tips start to turn white under the pressure.
I lift my menu to cover my arm and push a finger inside of her. I hook my foot around the leg of her chair and pull her to me. The wooden frame skids over the carpet until she’s out of sight.
"Hmm, are you sure though?" I tease her. "You wouldn't rather have something stuffed?" I add another finger. Fuck. She's soaking wet. I suck in my bottom lip and bite it, watching her try—and fail—to act like I’m not knuckle deep in her pussy. . . and that she isn't secretly loving every minute of it.
"I . .. I . . . um." She closes her eyes and lets her head fall back.
Shit.
I lean toward her. My lips greedily claim hers before I pull away, and whisper in her ear for her to pick up her menu. I might be okay with what's happening because I needed it almost as much as she seems to want it. But I'm also too selfish to share this side of Brielle with anyone else. "It's okay; no one's watching," I say when I can see the concern building behind those brilliant green eyes.
She lets out a whisper of a moan as she leans back against her chair. Her legs barely opening wider to allow me more room. But my eyes are stuck on the swollen tops of her breast, my mind wishing I had another hand so I could pay them the attention they deserve.
Jesus. She is sexy as hell.
I lick my lips. My cock is straining against the leg of my jeans. The muscles in her pussy clench around my fingers in a way that has my cock growing to uncomfortable lengths. She drops her hand to my lap and pulls me into a kiss. Soft moans fall from her lips, but I close my mouth over hers and swallow them.
"God, could y’all get a fucking room already?" Becks yells across the table. "If you wanted to make out, that's what the movie was for."
Brielle giggles and pulls away. "Shut the hell up, Becks." She smiles. Her playful attitude draws me to her. I love this new, lively side. It's fucking hot.
I stare at her openly for a second, enjoying the view before I slip my fingers from between her legs. But I can't resist the temptation to taste her again. Never have I been so all-consumed by a girl as I am with Brielle. Closing my mouth over my fingers, I happily lick the salty, sweet mixture from them.
I can see the hunger building in her as she watches me. Her lips are parted, and her brow is arched. But then she remembers where we are. Breaking away, she bites her lip and turns back to her menu. I watch as she sets it down just as I hear someone walk up to the table.
"Yeah, well, sorry. But this is a classy place." Becks grins over the top of her menu. "You can't be choking the gopher under the table and still expect great table service."
"Becks, not now." I look up when I hear the break in Brielle's voice. "Luca, hey! What are you doing here?"
Fuck. I slink back in my chair, then I let my menu fall back on the table. Of course this asshole would be here.
With You: With you, I am who I want to be. Page 24