On the Plus Side
Page 20

“It’s up to you, but I don’t mind blood and guts in case you’re wondering.” I shrugged, as I hoped he’d man up and pick the slasher flick.
There was no way I was going to admit that I wasn’t like every other normal chick he’s been out with. So instead, I just hinted that I’d rather see the scary movie.
“It’s OK if you wanna see the scary movie instead of the chick flick. To be honest, I’m glad. I hate chick flicks.” He laughed and I felt myself relax.
“Yeah, me, too. No girly tears and drama for me.”
“My kind of girl.” He winked. “Come on, let’s get the tickets.” He grabbed my hand and I followed him to the ticket line.
His hands were warm and hard, and they made my chubby hands seem small. I liked the fact that he was so much taller than me and his hands were so much larger than mine. Again, he made me feel small and I loved feeling small for once in my life. Callused rough spots rubbed against my soft hands and instead of turning me off, I imagined how nice those rough spots would feel against different soft parts of my body.
He paid for the tickets and then we went inside where he paid for the popcorn and the drinks. I felt awful. Here I was loaded, with more money in my personal bank account than he’d probably make in his whole life, and yet he was paying for everything. I didn’t say anything. He’d probably hate it if I offered to pay. He was entirely too proud for that and the last thing I wanted to do was make him feel like he was poor or something.
Soon we were settled into the movie theater with our popcorn and drinks, watching the previews. I wasn’t as nervous anymore, but I couldn’t help but notice the few females who kept looking at Devin. It made me feel like they were looking at us and I couldn’t help but feel like they were wondering what the hell he was doing with me.
We sat and watched the movie. I felt like a dumbass every time I jerked when the scary killer jumped out of nowhere. Whenever I’d jerk, he’d reach down and squeeze my knee. I loved it. It was like he was reassuring me that he’d protect me if the killer jumped out the screen. I’d never had anyone treat me that way before. It was a small action, but it was huge for me.
His deep chuckle vibrated my shoulder as I covered my eyes when things got too bloody. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good scary movie, but some things are too much.
There was one point when we stuck our hands in the popcorn at the same time. I pulled my hand back like the popcorn container was full of snakes and he flashed his “I know you want me” smile.
When we got up to leave he held my hand and I felt like I was in high school again. Holding hands isn’t something I’d ever experienced before tonight and it made me sad to think of all the things I’d missed as a teenager. I’d be sure to make up for all those lost things now, though.
He opened the car door for me and I slid in. He smiled before shutting the door and making his way around to the driver’s side.
“OK, so where to now?” he asked.
“Where ever is fine with me,” I answered.
“Are you always this easy?” he asked, before he busted out laughing. “You know what I mean…not like that. I mean so easy to get along with.”
It took me a minute to catch on to what he was saying before I started laughing, too.
“I know what you mean. OK, fine—um—what about putt putt?”
“Now that’s more like it! Be prepared, I’m the putt putt king!”
The rest of the night was a blur. We had so much fun. I was so comfortable with him. We laughed and picked at each other. He ended up not being very good at putt putt after all and that was comedic in itself. He spent most of the night being a complete gentleman: Holding fences open for me, getting me something to drink, holding my putter while I pulled my hair out of my face. It was amazing.
Later, after I’d won like three rounds of putt putt, we decided it was getting late and left. We talked the entire drive back to my apartment. He asked me questions about myself and I could tell that he actually cared about the answers—he wanted to get to know me.
He answered my questions as well.
“What grade’s your sister in?”
“Jenny’s in tenth grade. She’s a hand full that’s for damn sure. I swear she’s got the mouth of a forty-year-old sailor. Just the other day she got in trouble at school for calling her math teacher an old bitch.”
I laughed. He had no idea how lucky he was to have a sibling that he was so close to. Something about having a baby sister around really appealed to me, even if she did act like a boy.