This isn’t to say that I sleep around or anything. I still have steady relationships and they usually make me happy for a time, but they aren’t a future. I don’t have one of those happily-ever-after fairytale endings in store for me. Fairytales are like wishes. You have to believe in wishes for them to come true, and I definitely don’t believe in fairytales. I had one of those. I lived in one before, but that didn’t stop the walls from caving in. It didn’t stop my heart from breaking.
No, fairytales are best suited for books and other people’s lives—not mine.
THE MOVIE IS actually pretty good, and I leave the theatre rapping in my head like I am the next Slim Shady or something. That theme song is catchy as shit. “Knock, knock, you about to get shell shocked,” is on repeat in my head as we walk back to our vehicles. Rap isn’t really my cup of tea, but hey, who doesn’t like walking out of a movie feeling like a total badass?
I am distracted by the internal rap throwdown going on my head and don’t notice that Jami has fallen into step beside me. I don’t have to look at him to know that he is watching me. I feel like he is always watching me. It can be rather unnerving sometimes and it does crazy things to my insides. I avoid looking back at him and move to quicken my pace, but he catches me by the elbow. By now, we’ve fallen back from the rest of the group. I’ve never been a good multitasker and must have slowed down during my daydreaming of ninja turtles.
“Come over tonight.” He’s speaking loud enough that only I can hear.
“I can’t,” I reply shortly, keeping my gaze firmly affixed forward.
“Why not?”
“I have dinner plans,” I lie.
He doesn’t answer me right away, removing his hand from my elbow. It’s about time he took a hint. I’ve been swinging nothing but bitch swords at him all day and he hasn’t backed off.
I’m about to holler at Hannah to ask if they can drop me at my mom’s house on the way home when I’m hauled by the waist in between two parked vehicles. What the fuck? barely has time to flash through my brain before my back is pressed up against what I assume is the outside of a truck bed. Jami’s arms grip the edge of the truck on either side of my head, caging me in with his muscular frame.
“Who the fuck do you have dinner plans with?” he growls.
I must be a little slow on the draw today, because when I lift my head to meet his chocolate gaze, I’m caught off guard by the rage dancing between them. Instead of thinking it, I let it come rushing out of my mouth.
“What the fuck is your problem?” I hiss, placing my palms on his chest to push him away. He doesn’t budge, not even an inch.
“Answer the question, Lennon,” he snarls as he brings his face closer to mine.
I would answer it, but I honestly don’t even remember what the question is. Everything is happening too fast and my brain always seems to settle into this fog when he’s this close to me. It can’t be normal for a guy to literally make it hard for you to use your brain around him. At this point, he’s glaring at me, and it’s starting to bring my pissy mood from earlier back.
“I don’t even know what in god’s name you are talking about,” I huff, attempting to push him again. Well, that’s about as helpful as pissing into the wind.
“Who. The. Fuck. Do. You. Have. Dinner. Plans. With?” he snaps inches away from my face.
Motherfucker. My stupid lie. “My mother you ogre,” I quip, rolling my eyes at him. It’s not that I actually have plans with my mom, but she always loves a surprise visit, and that is much safer than spending another night letting Jami try to woo me. Or whatever it is that he’s trying to do. “Now would you please get off me? Everyone is going to be waiting for us,” I say bitchily, trying to show my irritation at the situation.
He takes one hand from beside my head and reaches it into his pocket, pulling out his cell phone. It’s the only movement he makes, and it still leaves me completely boxed in. He draws his head back from mine just long enough to punch a few buttons into his phone before putting it against his ear.
“Hey, man.” Whoever’s on the other line is quiet enough that I can’t hear, but this seems like a very poorly timed phone call if you ask me. “Yup. We’re fine. Can you fit everyone in the truck?” He pauses, listening to the response. “Piss off. I will. Later,” he says before placing his phone back into his pocket. The flair of anger that was dancing behind his brown eyes is gone and he’s giving me the look. You know, the look people give you when they know something you don’t know. This can’t be good.