Just a Boyfriend Read online

Who wasn’t paying attention to me and was eyeing the concessions menu.

  Then I felt bad that I wasn’t more excited to see Bethany. She was cute and seemed sweet, but she was very dedicated to the color pink. Pink sweater, darker-pink pants, and a bright pink bow in her hair.

  She reminded me of one of my little sister’s Barbie dolls.

  “How are you?” Bethany asked, and it was then that I realized I was being rude by staying quiet.

  “Good. And you?”

  “I’m doing amazing,” she said with a toothy grin. “Do you have the tickets already?”

  “Yes, I bought them online.” I got my phone from my pocket and opened up my email that had the receipt.

  Woodby handed me a twenty-dollar bill. “Thanks for buying those. That’s to cover me and my date.”

  Ember thanked Woodby as Bethany took out her wallet from her purse.

  “It’s okay, I’ve got it,” I told her.

  “Thank you.” She looked a little crestfallen, so I was about to suggest that she could buy us some popcorn if she wanted to split the cost that way.

  As if she could read my mind, Ember said, “Should we get some snacks? My treat.”

  “I’m not hungry,” Bethany said.

  “Oh.” Ember sounded confused. “Just some popcorn then?”

  Bethany scrunched up her nose. “Do you know how much sodium and artificial flavoring there is in movie popcorn?”

  Ember shot me a panicked look and mouthed, What’s happening?

  I offered, “We are going out afterward to a restaurant.” She wouldn’t starve before then. But I got where she was coming from. I never watched a movie without a buttload of popcorn and candy.

  “Then it’s settled,” Woodby announced. “We’ll get something to eat after the movie.”

  As a group we headed over to the ticket taker, and I gave him my phone so that he could scan the QR code. He told us our movie was in Auditorium 2, and as we walked to our theater, Ember snuck over next to me, her shoulder brushing against my bicep.

  “Are we really going to do this without popcorn?”

  “It’s just one night. I’ll feed you popcorn later, if you want.”

  I’d meant it as I’d buy her popcorn if she wanted, but the image of feeding it to her, one kernel at a time, her soft, pink lips brushing against my fingertips made my mind wander off into some places it shouldn’t have, especially considering the fact that I was out on a date with another girl.

  “Fine,” she muttered.

  We found our row, and I told them the seat numbers. I figured I’d sit next to Bethany and Woodby. Only Woodby stood aside, letting us go in ahead of him so that Bethany was on the end, followed by me, Ember, and then him.

  The opening preview started right as we sat down.

  “Just in time!” Bethany said with a smile. She’d left the armrest up. Ember, meanwhile, had lowered the armrest like a barrier between us. I felt slightly bad about it until I saw her do the same thing to Woodby.

  Ember took her coat off, and her left arm got stuck in the sleeve. She struggled for a few seconds before I reached up to pull the sleeve away from her shoulder. Which turned out to be a mistake. I could feel the heat of her skin through her black shirt, and it took all the strength I possessed to move my hand away from that warmth.

  “Thanks,” she said, her voice sounding unusually breathy.

  Had I had that effect on her? She turned to say something to Woodby, shattering my illusion.

  I shifted in my seat, and my knee knocked into Ember’s, sending a jolt of heat and awareness through me. “Sorry,” I whispered.

  She just shook her head, which made it so that the scent of her shampoo wafted over to me. It was the same one she’d used in high school. It smelled like coconuts, and it had always made me think of sunshine and suntan lotion and beautiful beaches, but mostly it reminded me of her.

  When I first went to live with my grandparents, they’d kicked around the idea of taking a vacation to Hawaii over winter break, and I’d pushed hard for a ski trip instead. I couldn’t stomach the idea of going to an entire state that would smell like Ember. It would have driven me insane.

  Much as it was doing now.

  Especially since the last time we’d sat next to each other in a darkened theater, there’d been no movie watching happening at all.

  I forced myself to pay attention since I’d been the one who’d chosen the movie. It was a superheroine movie, one of the latest based on a comic-book character. I figured it was a popular movie that everyone could enjoy.

  Or I would have enjoyed it more if I’d not been so in tune to every movement Ember made. All the times she changed her position in her seat, put her elbow on the armrest between us, or let her dark hair fall forward in a curtain of soft silkiness, I saw it. Felt it.

  Then the movie ended, and we stayed through the credits to watch the stingers. As the house lights came up, I let out a sigh of relief that I was no longer going to be confined to a dark space so close to Ember without the possibility of touching her.

  When we got outside I told them the restaurant was just around the corner. It was a chain, family-oriented type place. I picked it because it was so close to the theater. I’d also figured it wouldn’t be too loud on a school night.

  Ember started talking about the lead actress, whose next film would be with Chase Covington and how it was based on one of her favorite YA fantasy novels. I listened, loving the cadence and tenor of her voice. I’d always found it soothing.

  That is, when I wasn’t finding it exciting.

  Shaking my head to rid myself of those kind of thoughts—because nothing had changed in our situation—I held open the door to the restaurant to let everyone go in.

  “Woodby’s got this, dude.” Woodby insisted on taking the door from me so that I could go in first. I couldn’t figure out if he was just trying really hard to impress Ember, or if this was some kind of power play that was going over my head.

  I let him take it because I wasn’t interested in a pissing contest.

  When the hostess asked us how many, I told her four. She grabbed four menus and asked me to follow her. She led us to one of those long benches that were built into a wall with several tables and chairs situated in front of them. Bethany and Woodby sat on the bench while Ember and I sat across from our respective dates. I immediately realized this was not an ideal situation for two reasons; the first being that the restaurant was noisier than I’d anticipated, and in order to talk to Bethany I had to lean over and speak loudly. The second was that I was again close to Ember, our arms brushing against each other, and every time she touched me, my stomach made a whooshing motion while heat and desire swirled inside me.

  As we were looking over the menus, I asked Bethany, “What did you think of the movie?”

  She gave me a polite smile and raised her eyebrows, as if she hadn’t heard. I repeated my question a little louder.

  “Oh. Um . . .” She reached up to grab some of her blonde hair and twirl it around her fingers. “To be honest, I don’t really enjoy movies like that. Where it’s all blowing stuff up and people have these powers that nobody in real life has.”

  “Agreed,” Woodby said. “Also, Woodby doesn’t like it when they depict women so unrealistically.”

  “Like how?” Ember asked, and I wondered if I was the only one who could hear the warning in her voice.

  This was not how I thought this conversation would go. I probably should have asked everyone for movie suggestions before I chose one on my own, and I felt bad that I hadn’t thought of it.

  The hostess stopped by our table to give us wrapped-up silverware and glasses of water. We thanked her, and Ember leaned forward, expectantly. “I’m waiting.”

  “Come on, let’s be honest. Even if a woman had that kind of power, when she came up against a male villain with similar abilities, he would take her out in a fistfight. That’s just a fact.”

  I could almost see Ember’s temperature
rising, and I said, “We should look at the menus,” before Ember dumped her glass of water on Woodby’s head.

  Ember picked her menu up and held it in front of her face. “I loved the movie,” she told me.

  I instantly felt relieved. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” And the fact that she’d liked it made it so I suddenly didn’t feel bad anymore. Or care what anyone else thought.

  Which wasn’t great.

  Her confession also led me to discover that there was actually a third problem—that Ember and I could easily talk to one another without our dates overhearing us. I started taking a drink of my water just as she murmured, “You know, I was so worried this restaurant wouldn’t have any casual sexism on the menu. Good thing we brought our own.”

  I spewed water on the table because I couldn’t stop from laughing.

  Bethany let out a little cry of alarm while Woodby pointed at the spill and said, “Nice! Woodby approves!”

  As I used my napkin to sop up the water the best that I could, Ember chose that moment to lean in and say, “Also, I don’t think he knows how facts work.”

  Thankfully our waiter arrived just then, introduced himself as Simon, and asked what he could get us started with.

  “Do you have any vegetarian options?” Woodby asked, and Simon went over to show him where those items were on the menu.

  Ember’s mouth dropped. “He’s a vegetarian? Did you really set me up with some fern-fondling, seaweed-munching druid?”

  I put my damp napkin over my mouth to conceal my smile and grit my teeth together so I wouldn’t laugh. I would never be able to see Woodby again without thinking of the word druid.

  Then she went and made everything worse by saying, “I mean, nothing against his choices. I know I’m biased against it because the last guy I went out with was vegan, and that was one of the three things he talked about. The other two were his dog he’d rescued and doing that Ironman competition. If your friend here tells us he’s been to an animal shelter or training for any kind of marathon, I’m out.”

  I found myself torn between amusement and jealousy. I didn’t like to think about her dating other men. Even though we were currently in a situation where she was on a date with another man.

  “Let’s get the house salad as our appetizer,” Woodby said. Our waiter nodded and went off to put that into the computer.

  I had been eyeing the fried mozzarella sticks and the ahi tuna and was disappointed that our waiter left so quickly.

  “When did you become a vegetarian?” Bethany asked Woodby.

  “I’m majoring in nutrition and thought it was hypocritical to not be eating cleanly if I was going to be telling other people to do it, so I made the switch last year. Best thing Woodby ever did. And I cut all carbs.”

  “Personally, I think the best way to cut carbs is by slicing a pizza.” Ember said this one loud enough for the whole table to hear.

  I laughed, Bethany smiled weakly, and Woodby frowned. Bethany asked him about the kind of classes he was taking.

  Ember was again using the pretense of studying the menu to talk to me. “Why does Woodby talk about himself in the third person? He’s mentioned his name more times than a rap star in one of his songs. It’s weird.”

  “It’s just Woodby. He doesn’t do it all the time. But when he does, you get used to it,” I told her. “It’s why everybody calls him Woodby instead of Todd.”

  “Bash may be used to Woodby, but Ember is not and doesn’t care for Woodby’s style of talking.”

  Pressing my lips together so that I wouldn’t smile, I turned my attention back to the menu, too.

  Deciding on what I wanted, I looked up to see Bethany on her phone.

  “There’s no nutritional values listed on their website,” she said.

  Woodby came to her rescue. “Don’t worry. I have an app for that.” He handed her his phone.

  And speaking of everybody being on their phones, I noticed Ember on hers, but she had it under the table and was texting someone. Before I had a chance to wonder who she was talking to, she turned her phone off. She saw me and smiled.

  “Texting my mom. I like to check in on her,” she said, and my heart twisted painfully.

  This was one of the things I loved best about Ember. She cared deeply about her family and friends. She protected them. She was totally loyal. I hated that I’d destroyed those feelings between us and lost her.

  Even if it had been necessary.

  I didn’t want to think about that. “You should be paying attention to my vastly superior candidate,” I said.

  “Ha. Mine sought you out. She’s already attracted to you. Your date will be better based solely on the fact that she’s never once called herself Bethany.”

  Simon returned with the big house salad for us to share and handed us individual plates. Everyone served themselves, except for Ember.

  “You don’t still claim to hate lettuce, do you?” I asked.

  She rolled her eyes. “Lettuce tastes terrible!”

  “Lettuce has no taste.”

  It was painfully familiar—an argument we’d had many times before.

  “Besides,” I continued, “this one is mostly spinach and quinoa.”

  “Is that supposed to make it better? Because I think you just made it worse.”

  “You should try it,” Woodby piped up. “Come on, Bash told me you were adventurous.”

  I didn’t remember saying that, but it had the intended effect. With a defiant look, Ember used the tongs to give herself a serving of it. Everybody dug in, and I couldn’t help but watch as Ember pushed her food around the plate.

  Bethany and Woodby were talking about how much they liked the salad and compared it to other salads they had tried. Ember finally worked up her courage and took a bite. The most interesting and hilarious expressions passed over her face, and I wished I had thought to record it. She grabbed her napkin and spit out her bite, something that only I noticed.

  “Did you really just spit that out?” I asked.

  “It tasted like a tree just threw up in my mouth,” she said in disgust, grabbing her glass to get a drink of water. The drink didn’t help, and she tried to wipe the taste off with a different part of her napkin. “How do I make it stop? Why is there an aftertaste?”

  “There is no taste,” I reminded her, just to see her get fired up.

  She did not disappoint. “Just keep eating your sad food and be quiet.”

  I laughed for probably longer than what would be considered polite.

  “What did you think of the salad?” Woodby asked Ember. “Wasn’t it great? This is why it’s good to try new things.”

  Suddenly I had perfect clarity as to how this evening was going to end up. Me paying Ember’s bail after she stabbed Woodby with her butter knife.

  I needed to do something, fast.

  Time to defuse the situation.

  CHAPTER TEN

  BASH

  Trying to take the focus off the food, I asked, “So, Bethany, what’s your major?”

  “Same as Ember! We’re both majoring in nursing.”

  “Nursing?” I turned to Ember. How did I not know that? “You’re studying to become a nurse?”

  “Why do you say that with such a disheartening amount of surprise?”

  Because I knew what she’d dreamed of being. A writer. “I just thought you might major in English or creative writing.”

  “Things change.”

  Things had changed. A lot. It was weird being around Ember. I knew these things about her that nobody else knew, but at the same time it felt like I was meeting her for the first time. Learning all this new stuff about her.

  Which led me to other thoughts. What would it feel like if I kissed her again? Different but familiar? Would she react to my touch the same way she had before? Would she still sigh when I pressed my mouth against her neck? Whimper when I teased her lips?

  “Bash. Bash.”

  It startled me to hear Ember calling my name, and
I realized that Simon had returned to take our order. Woodby finished ordering something with eggplant, and the waiter turned to Ember.

  “I’ve been having a hard time choosing between the two, so I’m going to go with the barbecue chicken and ribs combination platter.”

  “You do know vegetarian means I don’t eat meat, right?” Woodby interjected. “Were you hoping to split that dinner with me?”

  He wasn’t asking in a flirtatious way. More like he thought it was too much food for one person. Before I could say something to him, Ember came to her own rescue. “I don’t share food. And before you ask, yes, I’m sure I want the combo platter. And could you add two extra sides of fries to that? Thanks so much.”

  She handed her menu to Simon and then looked at me expectantly.

  “I’ll take two of those combo platters, because that sounds delicious,” I said, winking at Ember.

  “Two of them?” Simon verified, and I nodded, giving him my menu.

  He left to go put our orders in, and Bethany leaned over to say to Ember, “What kind of diet are you on that lets you eat like that? Keto? Intermittent fasting?”

  “Oh, I have a condition that prevents me from dieting,” Ember said. “It’s called hunger.”

  Apparently not seeing the humor, Bethany pressed on. “You’re not on a diet, like, at all?”

  “I mean, I might be at some point. I’m just worried about getting caught up in one of those eat-healthy-and-exercise-frequently dieting scams.”

  Thankfully, I wasn’t drinking anything when she said this. I’d lost count of how many times she’d made me want to laugh out loud tonight.

  Bethany looked stunned. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman who wasn’t on a diet.”

  “Today must be your lucky day,” Ember responded. “You should buy a lottery ticket on your way home.”

  I was about to suggest that maybe she’d find a leprechaun and the accompanying pot of gold when Woodby announced, “You shouldn’t think of it as a diet, but as a lifestyle change.”

  He was never this obnoxious on the field, and I wasn’t sure what had happened tonight. It wasn’t like I could ask him here at the table.

  Bethany agreed with him while Ember muttered, “The only lifestyle change I’m going to make is one where Woodby is not in my life. Just so you know, I a thousand percent win this situation.”