The song changes to an up-and-coming rock band Poppy likes, who are starting to get radio play. I bought Poppy and Emilia tickets to their LA show in a few months, but before I can tell Russ that, he changes the station. “You don’t like Take Back December?”
“Not really,” he lifts his hand from my thigh to rub along his jaw line. “It’s my brother’s band.”
Oh my God. “Your brother Ethan is Ethan Callaghan? How did I not spot that before? Emilia’s girlfriend loves TBD.”
“Yup.” He doesn’t sound very pleased about that fact and, after what I’ve learned about his relationship with his family, I’m not surprised.
He takes a right down an old track, taking the opportunity to look at me for a split second before putting his hand back on my thigh. “Your brother is famous, but you don’t want to go pro because you don’t want to be famous? As someone with a family –especially my sister—always in the press, you sometimes have no choice.”
“You’re not the only person to point that out to me recently, funnily enough. Ethan isn’t really famous though.” He squeezes my thigh, which I think was supposed to be a comfort, but I feel it everywhere. “Should we tell everyone we’re only children?”
“Definitely, but I’m a bit concerned it won’t matter anyway, since you appear to be taking me somewhere to murder me and bury my body in a field . . .” The truck throws us around a little as we drive over the uneven ground in the direction of an old, derelict building. “Where the hell are we? I am not fucking you in that haunted house if that’s your plan.”
He snorts as he puts the truck into park. “I thought you knew every inch of Honey Acres, Ms. Explorer,” he teases, taking the keys out of the ignition.
“I do. This is not Honey Acres. We are almost definitely trespassing.”
We both climb out and I walk around to his side, still totally confused about what we’re doing here. As soon as I’m close enough he bends to kiss me, reviving the butterflies that are now a permanent addition to my body. “I thought trespassing would be exciting for you.”
“Trespassing in a hotel to make yourself a midnight snack, yes. Trespassing in a field is how you end up with a gunshot wound.”
“We’re on Orla’s land, I promise. I found this place on a run and I checked when I got back to camp. We’re not that far away, it just takes longer to get here by vehicle, since I can’t drive through fences.” He laughs and takes my hand, walking us to the back of his truck. “I just realized people don’t kiss at the start of a first date.”
“You can drive through fences . . . but people yell at you when you go to apologize and they make your parents pay for the damage.” His eyebrow rightfully rises. “Anyway . . . I haven’t been on a first date before, so I don’t know the rules. Which is probably a red flag for you because why would I be undated at twenty unless it’s because I’m really annoying, which I am, and, well, we might get charged at by cows tonight or eaten by wolves or something, so I’d rather kiss at the start than not kiss at all. I need to stop talking. I’m doing that thing that you make me do where I j—”
He stops at the back of the truck, nudging my chin up with his knuckle to close my mouth. “I know you’re the English major, but undated isn’t a word, sweetheart.”
“I feel like it is.” He ignores me and opens the tailgate, pulling off a white sheet, revealing cushions and quilts, a cool box and the battery pack powered projector we sometimes use for outdoor movie night. “Oh my goodness.”
Lifting me onto the tailgate, he leans in and kisses me again. Slow, gentle, perfect. “I haven’t been on a first date before either.”
I’m stunned into silence as Russ helps me get comfortable on the makeshift bed, handing me a Thermos of hot chocolate and a bag of popcorn. He positions the projector on top of the truck, pointing it at the side wall of the creepy house, and that’s when it hits me how much effort he’s put into this.
I’m not a crier, but this man might just make my eyes water a little. He throws another blanket on top of me and finally sits down, getting under the covers too. “Comfortable? Warm enough?” he asks.
“Everything is perfect.” The wall turns blue as the Disney castle appears followed by the Pixar lamp and as soon as Gusteau’s restaurant appears on the tiny television, my heart just about explodes. He’s thought of everything. “Ratatouille! Russ, you’re perfect. Like dream guy perfect. You’re too good to be real.”
My honesty catches him off guard and beneath the glow of the moon, I watch all the emotions run across his face. I’ve always known I need validation like I need air and, although I don’t think he’s exactly the same, we are very similar.
People have made us feel like we’re less than we are and those opinions are buried deep in us both, like weeds. Every drop of self-doubt waters the soil and once they start to grow it feels impossible to stop. But it isn’t impossible, it just takes someone to rip them out by the root, over and over if needed.
We’re so different and yet so similar and part of me is starting to believe that’s the perfect mix.
His hand reaches toward me, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Tell me a secret.”
“I don’t want to go back to reality next month. I want to stay here with you and the dogs and throw our cellphones into the fire.” He laughs quietly, his hand massaging the back of my neck while I ramble. “I’ll open my bookstore and you can open your bowling store or build robots or whatever engineers do—they can protect us from the possums and the wolves I guess. But you’ll choose me and I’ll choose you and we’ll be happy without anyone else ruining it.”
“You are the brightest thing in my life, Aurora,” he says. “And you’re a living reminder of the good things that can happen when I let myself be happy.”
Part of me wonders if I’d let someone in before now, could I have avoided a lot of the unhappiness I’ve dealt with, but I think the answer is no. I’d have still been doing the same reckless things as before, bouncing from emotional overload to the next, desperately seeking something more. I’d never have made someone happy and the chances are, after the initial buzz of their attention wore off, I’d be lost again.
Russ makes me feel content, the one thing I didn’t realize I needed.
We shuffle closer, sinking deeper into the blankets, facing each other, totally ignoring the cartoon rat being projected onto the wall. “You tell me a secret,” I whisper.
“It’s not a secret because a lot of people know about it, but can I tell you about something bad that happened to me? Something I really hate talking about?”
“Of course.” I’m patient while he awkwardly shuffles around, clearly delaying things. His leg slips between mine, hand rests on the curve of my waist and, just when I think he’s about to start talking, he leans in and kisses me instead. Breaking us apart, I rest my forehead against his. “I’m still going to be here to kiss you when you’re done sharing,” I say softly.
“Did you hear about the hockey rink getting trashed at the start of the year?”
“I think so, maybe? Didn’t you guys have to share the other rink or something?”
“Yeah. Well, it was my fault.”
My jaw almost unhinges itself. “You trashed a hockey rink?”
“No! Of course not. I, uhm, I met this girl, Leah, at a party and she was nice to me. I’d gone with some guys I lived with. Leah kissed me, we messed around a bit, not all the way.”
Someone tell me why I’m jealous. “Then every party I went to, Leah was there and we ended up hooking up a few times. I liked her and I thought maybe, just maybe, sophomore year wouldn’t be trash and I could have some happiness. Next thing I know I’ve got her boyfriend in my DMs threatening me. They’d been fighting or whatever, she’d been using me to get back at him.”