He went to the entertainment center and grabbed the longest-playing movie he could find on the shelf, which to his moderate horror was the third in one of those fantasy and magic trilogies that Gillian and Colby loved. He popped it into the player with satisfaction.
He didn’t give a damn what was on the screen other than it would take hours until it was over.
Emma joined him in the living room, handing him the bowl of popcorn before settling in the armchair, her long legs curled under her as she faced the television.
Dean set the bowl on the coffee table, stepped over and picked her up easily, carrying her with him to the couch.
She laughed in protest the entire journey. “What are you doing?”
“Awfully hard to cuddle when you’re all the way over there and I’m sitting over here.” He pulled her legs over his then reached for the popcorn, effectively trapping her in place. He stretched one arm along the back of the couch, the nape of Emma’s neck resting against his biceps.
She sat stiffly for the first five minutes before her tension eased and they were back to familiar territory. Nestled together, talking quietly as the movie flashed on the screen.
Dean had never loved hobbits more in his entire fucking life.
When Emma buried her face against his chest, hiding from the action on the screen, his heart skipped momentarily. When she smiled, her lips curling as the story turned happier, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to them, unable to resist.
By the time the movie was over, they’d consumed more popcorn than Dean had eaten in the five years previous, he’d stolen a dozen kisses, and the temptation to weave their fingers together had been so strong he’d had to clutch the back of the couch to stop from moving too quickly.
The end credits began to play and Emma turned her face toward him with a smile. “That was fun.”
“It was.” His throat closed up. “I wish we got to do this back in the day.”
Her smile faltered. “Yeah, we were always sneaking around, huh? Made it pretty hard to cuddle and watch movies.”
It had definitely been hard. Most of the time he’d only seen Emma at school or when he climbed through her window after her parents went to bed. Sometimes she’d manage to get away on the weekends and they’d drive off to be alone, trespassing on neighboring ranches or hanging out at the local swimming hole.
Not once had he allowed Emma to come to his house, though. Fuck, even imagining it now made his entire body ripple with anger. Emma gazing at the dirty, ugly trailer he’d grown up in. Cringing when his drunken son-of-a-bitch father pinched her ass every time she walked by. His brothers Joe and Ken undressing her with their eyes. Joe would definitely have brought his bong out and tried forcing Emma to take a hit. Kenny would’ve made snide comments about how Emma should dump the zero and get with the hero.
God. Never. Dean would have voluntarily shoved his leg into a bear trap before letting his family anywhere near her.
“But we did have the diner. And we got out to the drive-in a few times,” she added. “Remember?”
His smile felt forced. “Yeah, I remember.” Another unwelcome image burned in his head—this one entirely real.
Emma must have been hit with the same memory, because her smile faded completely. “Your father was a real asshole.”
“You mean because he needed money for more beer, drove drunk to the drive-in to track me down, and crashed his pickup into the concession stand? What, normal parents don’t do that kind of stuff?” He grinned wryly, opting to make light of his childhood baggage because it sure as hell was better than crying about it.
Sympathy softened her brown eyes. “I honestly don’t know how you turned out the way you did, Dean. Living in that hellhole… A lot of people would’ve gone crazy. Or followed in those destructive footsteps.”
Yeah, he’d dodged a bullet there. His past was difficult to think about without bringing deep pain and sorrow, but for the most part, he was proud of himself for the way he’d turned out. For getting out when he had. Though that had been equally painful, giving up Emma.
“I guess I’m a prime example for the nature-versus-nurture debate,” he said in a dry voice.
She laughed softly before going serious again. “I mean it. I’m proud of what you’ve accomplished, and who you are, Dean.”
His heart swelled. Feeling pride in himself was one thing. Knowing that Emma was proud of him? It was fucking cathartic.
Her gaze shifted to the closing credits still scrolling on the television screen. “We should do this again,” she said, although he didn’t miss the hesitant note in her voice. “The third movie in the next trilogy will be releasing on DVD soon.”
“Sure, that sounds amazing.”
He was astounded lightning didn’t come out of nowhere and strike him dead. Then he realized he wasn’t lying—he would watch anything if it meant he got to be next to her, spending time with her, just being.