Page 37 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

“Just because one of the most iconic scenes happens on the ice doesn’t make it a hockey movie.”

“Iconic?” he asks, his curiosity piqued. “I thought you hated the scene.”

“When Happy brings Virginia Venit onto the ice, and they dance to a Diana Ross song? It’s adorable and probably the closest example of romance I ever witnessed as a kid, thanks to you boys always stealing the controller and never letting me watch any girl shows.”

“Would you have watched them even if we let you pick the movie?”

I bite the inside of my cheek, refusing to acknowledge he has a valid point. I thought I hated all things romance, especially the cheesy or overdramatic stories. To be honest, I still do. But Happy and Virginia on the ice?

Swoon.

Convinced he’s won, Theo adds a pack of cinnamon gummy bears to the table, and I bite my lip to stop the grin from splitting my face in two.

“Who says I still like cinnamon gummy bears?” I challenge. Heaven forbid I let the bastard know how thoughtful he is for remembering my favorite treat.

“You drank Fireball last weekend. Cinnamon,” he clarifies as if he’s speaking to an idiot. “Just a hunch, but I figured it stemmed from your addiction to these.” He picks up the bag and wiggles it back and forth.

I stare at the familiar package, refusing to let him win. “To be fair, I’m pretty sure you’re the one who got me addicted.”

“You’re the one who found my stash.” He sets the candy back onto the coffee table and continues his perusal of whatever else is in the grocery bag.

“You’re the one who should’ve hidden your stash better,” I point out.

He stops rummaging around in the grocery sack and looks up at me. “They were in my room.”

“On the nightstand,” I counter. “You really think it’s a good place to hide your cinnamon bears?”

“From my buddy’s nosy little sister who had a habit of breaking into things––”

“I didn’t break into things,” I screech.

“Such as her older brother’s friend’s room so she could steal his cinnamon bears?”

“Whatever.” I snatch the Blu-Ray from the coffee table and put it into the Blu-Ray player.

Apparently, Theo’s hijacking my night, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

At least he brought snacks.

12

BLAKELY

Once Happy and his grandma are chatting on the screen, I plop onto the couch and rest my feet on the coffee table, determined to ignore Theo’s presence even if it kills me.

Until he grabs my big toe, and I tug my foot away from him.

“Hey!” I tuck my feet under my butt. “What was that for?”

“Just getting to know the new Blake. Since when do you paint your nails?”

“Since recently,” I argue. “What? Is there a problem with purple nail polish?”

“No problem.” He opens the bag of cinnamon bears, pops one into his mouth, and offers me one.

Grudgingly, I take it while studying him from the corner of my eye. Seriously. What is up with this guy?

“I actually like the purple, by the way,” he adds. “It suits you.”

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