Page 55 of Fire Fight

“So do the rats,” he warns in an ominous voice. “My mate used to work at—”

“La-la-la-la-la,” I say, fingers in my ears. “No ruining one of my favourite foods with your bullshit stories,” I scold him. “And in penance, I’d also like a choc-top.”

He doesn’t let me pay for anything and I feel a warm buzz as we take our seats inside the theatre, upgraded to the large ones with full armrests complete with a tiny tray table for food. The date could be lifted straight from a teen movie.

The comedy-dramas. Not the slasher films.

I’m blushingly explaining my favourite form of literature—and goodness knows how the conversation turned tothat—when he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, leaning forward to kiss me.

It’s… nice.

With my free hand, I touch his hair, finding it softer than I expected but just as springy. The moment he feels my fingertips on his scalp, he deepens the kiss, tongue pushing past the seal ofmy lips, thrusting inside my mouth, wetter and sloppier than I expected.

My muscles tense. I let go of his hair to plant my palm on the centre of his chest, pushing gently until he breaks away.

His breathing is heavy while all I feel is a faint relief he withdrew so quickly. My gaze flits away as the inadequacy of my response makes itself known. He’s such a kind boy. Not just the personal chauffeuring but his attention to family, the way his ego is sufficiently robust that he can make fun of himself.

I want to cry that I feel nothing more.

My arm tenses, resisting the urge to wipe a hand across my lips, turning to the side so my expression won’t reveal anything it shouldn’t.

And my face freezes in shock, blood roaring in my ears.

Drake stands in the aisle, reading his phone, the screen illuminating his face with a clinical, blue light. His free arm is around Stacey, the pretty blonde server he bumped into at the restaurant last week.

The one who made my skin crawl with jealousy even as I pretended not to care. Before he proved himself even more of an arsehole than I’d anticipated.

He looks up, eyes coldly assessing me, and I instantly understand his appearance isn’t coincidental.

Disappointment weighs down my mood. He’s come to ruin the evening I’ve been excited for all week. It’s like he can’t stand for me to enjoy myself, tearing me down at every opportunity.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he booms, dropping into the seat next to mine.

He settles his date into the next chair along before nudging me with his elbow. Doing it again, harder, when I don’t respond.

“What?” he whispers as the lights lower. “You invited me along to a party I don’t want to go to. Surely, it’s fair play for me to invite myself along to your date?”

I wrinkle my nose in a gesture of apology to Hudson, but he seems more amused than alarmed and once again I’m grateful for his low-pressure, low-expectation company.

Stacey waves hello to me and Hudson. I have vague memories of her from Alabaster, but she was two years ahead. And, no shade, but there were a lot of rumours about her being a sex worker, both before and after she left school.

It makes sense. Drake doesn’t seem to have people around him. Until the pretence with Gretchen, he’d ignored the sycophants who crowd him at lunch. Turning up his nose at their overtures of friendship.

Of course, he’d opt for the arms-length companionship of a sex worker.

I hope she charges him extra for ruining my night.

“Isn’t it nice here?” she whispers, unaware of the undercurrents. “Much better than our local mall.”

“It’s lovely,” I agree while catching Drake’s satisfied smile from the corner of my eye. I’m pleased when the lights lower so I don’t have the strain of conversation.

“Your stepbrother is a supreme arsehole,” Hudson whispers in my ear and I giggle in agreement, leaning into his warmth as I take a handful of popcorn from the bucket in his lap. “And you’ve fallen straight into my cunning plan.” He fakes a yawn, stretching, then letting his arm drop to rest around my shoulders.

“Was that your big move?” I tease, deciding the evening won’t be ruined unless I let it.

“The first of many.”

My hand bumps against Hudson’s as we reach into the bucket together and we share a smile.

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