Page 94 of Pulled Away

Realizing I’ve let the silence drag on too long, I clear my throat. “You look beautiful.” Such a lame word for what she is.

Her smile is uncertain. “You said to dress comfortably, so jeans it is.”

“It’s perfect. Maybe just get a thicker jacket. It’s quite nippy at night.” Nippy? Really? Seems like I’m vibing with the old-school feel.

The drive to the park is awkward, like we’re dancing around each other.

“Movie night?” she asks when I park, her eyes lighting up.

Grinning, I nod, jumping out and holding her door open before she unbuckles her seatbelt. “We’ve always said we wanted to go, but never got round to it.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m not sure,” I mutter, taking out the blanket and picnic basket from the backseat. “We always tend to end up at Frosty’s. Well, used to.”

“What’s the lineup?”

“10 Things I Hate About You and Grease.”

I paused a bit at the 10 Things I Hate About You because the last thing I need, is for Aspen to be coming up with more reasons to hate me, but then I read it had a good ending, so I decided to take my chances.

“May I?” I ask, holding out my hand, and when she reaches out to me, I grip her hand firmly and lead her into the park. That’s something a gentleman would do, right? Ensure her safety by making sure we don’t get separated.

Once we find the perfect spot, I lay out the blanket and we get settled.

“That basket is huge.”

“I hope you brought your appetite.”

“Are you feeding the entire park?” she says, frowning as I unpack it.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for, so I brought all your favorites.” And drove Mom mad in the process of preparing it. Moving back home is proving to be a bigger adjustment than I thought it would be. For all of us. I still don’t regret it, though.

Her smile tells me I did good.

The movie starts and I watch Aspen more than I watch the movie. Every smile has me smiling. Every frown has me wanting to wipe it away with a joke. But I keep quiet, just happy that we’re here, spending time together. My fingers ache to creep towards her and stroke that tiny sliver of skin that’s exposed between her jeans and t-shirt, but I keep my hand firmly at my side. I haven’t earned that right yet. We’re here, together, but there’s still a great big divide between us. A divide I’m determined to bridge, brick by brick, now that she’s given me the chance.

The movie ends, and chatter picks up around us, but I’m oblivious to it, my attention on Aspen. Sitting up, she reaches for a sour gummy and pops it into her mouth. My taste buds pucker in sympathy as I watch her suck it. I don’t know how she can stomach it.

“Tell me ten things you hate about me.”

It’s damn hard asking that question, but there’s so much that’s unsaid between us and there’s no way we can move forward before confronting the issues that caused our downfall.

She frowns, licking some sugar off her thumb. “You want to do this here? Now?”

I look around, taking in the people scattered around us. This is not a conversation I want people to overhear.

“Maybe not. How set are you on watching Grease?”

“I’ve seen it. It was one of Mom’s favorites.”

It’s all the permission I need to pack the basket and fold up the blanket before taking her hand and leading her back to my car.

Chapter thirty-three

Ryan

Islam the car door and turn to Aspen. We’re doing this here. Now. I don’t have the patience to go somewhere else, and the parking lot is fairly lit up, so this will have to do.

---