Page 22 of Love Me

“The other night nearly killed me, you jackass. I’m not young anymore.”

I gently press my thumb into the center of her sock-covered foot and slide it up and down, earning me the sweetest sigh from her in response. Fuck, I love touching her.

See me, baby. See me as more than just your best friend.

“Got us a sitter for next Friday night. You up for going to the drive-in with me?”

“Depends. What’s playing?”

“Does it matter? It’s a date, Hannah. It could beMrs. Doubtfireand you’d go because that’s the rules.”

I continue to rub her foot, squeezing and making circles in the center, watching the expression on her face as she fights with the blissed-out feeling I’m pulling from her.

“You’re such an idiot,” she laughs. “For real. What’s playing? Or I’m just gonna look it up on my phone.”

“Holy shit, God forbid you’re surprised,” I jest as I give her foot a hard squeeze, switching to the other one, wishing like hell we were skin-to-skin instead. “A double feature, obviously.The NunandAnnabelle: Creation.”

She jumps in excitement, nearly heel-striking me in the balls. “Fuck, Han! Watch it!”

“Oh, don’t be such a baby, your package isn’t that big, I barely grazed it!”

“Fuck, that sass,” I grind out with my teeth clenched. “One of these days I’m gonna spank it outta you.”

I can’t help but smile as she rolls her eyes in a dramatic display, forcing herself to shiver like she could ever truly be scared of me.

“Yes, obviously we’re going to the drive-in. I love that they’ll still play them through the winter. I’m so glad they’re showing those movies in order. How people don’t realize they should be watched in chronological order instead of by release date is so annoying!”

Here we go . . .

Hannah spends the next ten minutes venting about the whole picture people are missing when they watch franchises in order of release date instead of chronologically. She’s passionate about four things: her daughter, baking, hockey, and horror movies.

After she’s settled down, I decide I need to hit her with the heavy questions, needing to check in on her headspace and where she’s at after the atomic-sized bomb I dropped on her.

“How are you handling everything? Have you had time to digest it all?”

She answers right away, which doesn’t surprise me. Hannah typically says exactly what she’s thinking or feeling. You get what you see with her, something I love. I hate having to fucking guess how someone is feeling or what they’re thinking.

“I haven’t had time to digest it, no. I battled a hangover—thanks for that by the way—and then went into mama-mode, and café owner. He really has a pregnant girlfriend?”

“Yeah, beauty. She’s far enough along for me to notice right away, too.”

“What a piece of shit. Actually, no, he’s less than a piece ofshit. Ugh. I hate him, bear. How did you not knock his teeth out?”

I laugh because I don’t know how I didn’t.

“Your guess is as good as mine. Fuck, I wanted to. I saw red, but also, I saw you and Charlie. I just went into protection mode. If I curb-stomped his ass, it would have made things a whole helluva lot worse.”

She shakes her head in agreement, seemingly lost in thought as she takes it in.

“Why have you always hated him?”

Shit.

Owen and I finish lacing up our skates, ready to hit the ice, feeling good about tonight’s game against Forks. Playing hockey feels good, and since I’m the only one of my siblings who took it up, it gives me some much-needed separation from being lumped in as one of them. Especially when our dad already makes us box together at the gym.

“Hell yeah, I hit that. Not that great of a lay, but she’s hot enough, I’d fuck her again.”

“Who’d you hit, Jenkins? Your hand again? You’re gonna burn a hole through that damn thing if you’re not careful,” my friend Owen says to the arrogant asshole who just entered the locker room with his posse of braindead fuckwits.

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