“Again,” I demanded. I couldn’t get enough. Why did I want him to keep kissing my cheek?
He leaned over, his lips hovering over my cheek before steering unexpectedly to my lips. I wasn’t shocked. I wasn’t surprised. I wasn’t mad. I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t anything as I let him kiss my lips. It was an innocent kiss. No tongue. No lip sucking. Just light and sweet.
He stood up and studied my face. I looked straight into his eyes.
“You don’t like me at all,” he said after a moment. And then he chuckled.
I didn’t know what to say.
“It’s all right. We can still watch the movie together,” he said, then walked away towards the bathrooms.
“You’re seriously on a date with that guy?” Mr. Connelly asked from behind. I jumped.
His caustic words provided a measure of satisfaction for me.
“Yes.”
“You said he was a tool,” Mr. Connelly said.
“I know.”
“Cadence, come on. What are you doing?”
I was so tempted to scream at him. But I didn’t.
“I’m on a date with Tate,” I replied. I didn’t even let it bother me that my sentence rhymed. Okay, that’s a total lie. I freaking hated that my sentence rhymed, and I hated how stupid it sounded. And I hated that I was on a date with a tool. And I hated that Mr. Connelly made me sweat in my brand-new shirt.
Not doing a good job keeping the emotions under control. Internally anyway. But I’d be damned if I let anything remotely passionate escape my lips. Cuss word. Plea. Declaration of my undying love. He wasn’t getting anything.
“Do you wanna be on a date with him?” Mr. Connelly asked.
“Yes.”
“Really?”
Fuck you.
“Yes.”
“Cadence . . .”
I hate you and I love you. Happy?
“Yes?”
Mr. Connelly’s demeanor changed. Suddenly he looked pissed. I wasn’t giving him what he wanted. He wanted me to go off on him. He wanted to see crazy, impulsive Cadence because then it would give him license to be impulsive, too. He liked to blame me for this out-of-control person he’d become, but oh my God, I finally realized it! He liked it. He liked feeling that way. He liked being provoked.
He probably wanted to fuck me somewhere. A closet, no doubt.
“That guy’s no good for you,” he said.
“I like him,” I replied cheerfully.
“Yeah, I bet you do.” He took my arm and led me to the other side of the theatre. He steered me into a dark alcove near the end of the hallway.
“Um, my date will wonder where I am,” I said.
“Do you want me to tell you I’m jealous of an eighteen-year-old boy?” he hissed in my ear.
“Mr. Connelly, we’re in public,” I reminded him.
“Call me ‘Mark’,” he snapped.
And that’s when I snapped. Just a little. “You don’t get to be called ‘Mark’ anymore. I don’t have that kind of relationship with you.”
“Do you understand what it’s been like for me?” he asked. “Being apart from you?”
“Seriously?”
“I’m going crazy!” he said. “I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t concentrate on work. I don’t like it, Cadence. Not any of it. I’m losing it.”
I felt a slight pang. I let my armor slip, and there it was. A pang of guilt. And then I remembered he broke up with me.
“You ended it, Mr. Connelly,” I said. “I’m just trying to move on.”
“Cadence . . .”
I’d never seen Mr. Connelly look desperate. I’d seen him look nervous, worried. Embarrassed. Even physically and emotionally disheveled. But never desperate. And I didn’t like it. I know I should have felt powerful in that moment. I should have celebrated my victory. But I really didn’t win. I was hurting. We were hurting, and we didn’t know how to fix it.
“I forgot it was Valentine’s Day,” he said after a time. “I didn’t realize.”
“You seriously expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Whatever. You have commitment issues. People with commitment issues are notorious for breaking up with their significant others around holidays.”
Mr. Connelly stared at me. And then I saw a half grin. I know what the son of a bitch was thinking.
“And no, I did not read that in my Marie Claire. I heard it somewhere.”
“I’m not a commitment phobe, Cadence.”
“Whatever.”
“Please don’t shrug it off. I really didn’t realize Valentine’s Day was coming up. I should have, but I didn’t. I wasn’t trying to be doubly hurtful.”
I didn’t want to start crying. I’d been doing such a good job until now.
“I have to find Tate,” I said.
“No.”
Now that wasn’t desperate. That was demanding.
“I can’t be rude.”
“Yes you can.”
“Mr. Connelly, I have to go.”
“No.”
And that’s when I lost it completely. “You said you’d always be there for me! That’s what you said! And I believed you because I’m a fucking idiot!”
A few heads turned in our direction.
“I know what I told you, Cadence. And that’s why I’m here now, to take you home with me.”
“Fuck you! You think you can just waltz back into my life after six weeks, steal me away from my date, and take me to your house? You’ve got a lot of nerve, buddy!”
“You better believe that’s what I plan to do,” Mr. Connelly said. “Because I’m your date tonight, not him.”
I stared at him in disbelief. Then my cell phone buzzed. It was Tate.
“I’m not being rude to him,” I said. “No matter that he’s a complete jackass.”
“Fine, then text him and tell him you got sick.”
“Why should I go with you? And how did you even know I was here anyway?”
“I talked to Avery.”
“What?”
“Well, she talked to me, actually.”
“What?!”
“Thanks for sharing our secret, by the way.”
“Avery’s trustworthy,” I said, dismissing him with a wave of my hand.
“Yeah, let’s hope so,” Mr. Connelly replied.
I shook my head. “What did she say to you?”
“She told me to stop being a fucking idiot and make things right with you.”
I said nothing.
“She’s a smart one,” Mr Connelly said. “And crass.”
I cracked a smile.
“Will you come with me?” he asked.