I reach the gate’s control panel, hit my fist against the bright green button, and wait while the gate peels open to reveal Blake hanging casually out the rolled down window of his truck. His hair is styled with gel, tousled to one side, and he beams when he sees me.
“C’mon, girl, we’ve got a movie to get to!” he calls, rapping his hand against the truck door. “I heard from a reliable source that the endingsucks!”
With a snort of amusement, I climb into the passenger seat as he contorts himself back through his window, and we look at each for a long moment, our gazes bright and our smiles identical. For two people who don’t particularly want to catch Everett Harding’s new movie, we’re both in a spectacularly good mood. Maybe because it’s the weekend, or maybe because we can finally hang out together after having to act like strangers at church.
“Ready for our second Nashville adventure?” Blake asks, dimples flashing.
“Hopefully this one doesn’t result in me yelling at you on a street corner,” I say between nervous giggles as I pull on my seatbelt. As always, there’s music playing, but the volume is down low. All these country albums have really grown on me and I’ve become accustomed to listening to them on full volume whenever I’ve been in Blake’s truck, so I reach over and flick the volume straight up. “Better.”
Blake stares at me slack-jawed in complete and utter fascination. “A girl who turns up Kelsea Ballerini? Damn.”
He puts the truck in drive and places a hand on my thigh. I immediately rest my hand over his, leaning my head back against the headrest, closing my eyes and feeling the warmth of the sun against my summer-freckled face.
And as we head off along these same old quiet roads with the sun lowering in the sky ahead, with the bitter-sweetness of a country melody playing and the breeze from the open windows rustling my hair, I think that maybe tonight we can’t stop smiling because I like Blake and Blake likes me.
23
The movie theater is at a mall in a neighborhood south of downtown Nashville, and it – is – packed.Flash Pointmovie posters dominate every wall, stealing all of the glory from other new releases, and there’s even a huge cardboard stand at the entrance which is essentially one giant cast photo. A bigger-than-life-sized Dad and Laurel Peyton are front and center, flanked by the supporting cast. When we passed, fans were posing in front of the stand, and I shot Dad the fiercest glower I could manage. It’s the closest I’ll get to the real-life version of him for now.
There’s a buzz around the theater’s foyer, the clash of hundreds of voices musing in anticipation. The thing about theFlash Pointmovies is that they appeal to every age group, from elderly couples to groups of friends younger than me. There’s all sorts of people standing in the same line as we are, waiting to have our tickets checked for one of the two screens showing the movie in fifteen minutes. I imagine the production company executives rubbing their hands together with glee, knowing these double screenings are happening all over the country this weekend.
It’s also a little. . . awkward.
For the most part, no one ever knows who I am. It’s notmewho’s the actor, so only Dad’s most devoted of fans would recognize me if they passed me in the street. I can get by under the radar pretty easily unless someone mentions my full name and others piece two and two together. But luckily tonight I am blending in. I am making the conscious effort to do so – I keep my head slightly lowered and ensure I’m circled by Blake’s friends at all times. Ruben is already at the end of his tether with me, and if he knew I was attending a movie screening in Nashville where one of Dad’s super fans could spot me at any second I think he would fly that private jet here solo just to drag me back home.
“Hey, Mila,” Barney calls in a voice that’s a little too loud. “Is this weird for you?”
“Yup,” I murmur, while Blake helpfully kicks him in the shin.
I’m trying to block out the group of girls waiting in line in front of us who are gushing about howsexyEverett Harding is. Bile churns in my stomach. These girls aren’t even that much older than me, and they’re talking like that about mydad.
Gross.
Blake brushes his pinky finger against mine as a sign of solidarity and I fight the urge to take his hand, not because we’re trying to hide whatever this is between us but because we’re in the middle of a movie theater with his friends. It seems kind of inappropriate to be all touchy around one another, even though I get the sense his friends wouldn’t be so surprised if they did spot us getting a little close. Theydidget me a ticket tonight, so it seems they’ve accepted the fact that I should be counted as Blake’s plus one for things like this.
We’re here with his friendship circle, and it’s nice for me to get to know who Blake tends to hang around with when he isn’t hosting his big get-togethers. Blake and his friends are entering their senior year at Fairview High together in the fall, so they are all a year older than me. That’s why Savannah and Tori aren’t here, but Barney and Lacey are. Myles is here too with the girl he seems to be in a casual fling with, Cindy. The guy Savannah has a crush on, Nathan Hunt, is also one of Blake’s closer friends, along with some guy by the name of Travis who I vaguely recognize as one of the guys who helped Blake out with the fire last weekend. So far, they have been welcoming, except Lacey didn’t quite smile when Blake and I met up with the group in the parking lot. And although Barney was the one to steal my phone and call Dad that very first weekend I arrived, I am starting to relax a bit more around him, but only because he hasn’t pulled anymore stunts since then.
Those girls in front of us are still talking about Dad in great detail. No matter how hard I focus on trying to tune out their conversation, I can’t bear it anymore when they start wondering out loud how many scenes there’ll be that feature Dad stripping off.
“You know he already turned forty, right? He’s double your age,” I remark in a loud, clear voice without even thinking. As soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to shove them back in. I shouldn’t be drawing attention to myself. Especially not like that.
All three girls turn around to stare at me in surprise, taken aback by such negativity in a line that’s supposed to be full of fellow enthusiasts.
“Sorry,” Blake says, stepping around me to block me from their view. “She’s just a friend we’ve dragged along with us. ShehatesEverett Harding.”
“Yeah, she absolutely should have stayed home,” Lacey mumbles. Her blue eyes meet mine, and I have a strong sense that she isn’t just playing along with Blake.
The girls shoot our group strange looks, but turn back around and resume their conversation at a much lower volume. I press my hand over my eyes in embarrassment. I really shouldn’t have said anything, but it’s so hard not to. I live a life full of rules that other people aren’t even aware of, and one of those rules is to remain silent and allow strangers to fantasize about your dad.
“Lucky for you, Mila,” Barney says, “it’s Laurel Peyton I have the soft spot for and not” – he lowers his voice to a whisper and cups his hand around his mouth – “your hot-as-hell father.”
We share a laugh, and I relax slightly as the line lurches forward. The screen doors have opened, and excitement flows down the line in a wave. We work our way down to the screen, have our tickets checked, and then head in through the heavy doors.
The seats are filling up fast, but that’s to be expected – it’s a sold-out screening. Everyone floods up the aisles in a stampede as though there won’t be what will feel like hours of trailers to sit through first. Our seats are way at the back, which I quickly realize are actually theworstpossible seats for me. I have a full view of the theater, of all these rows and rows of fans, of women (and probably some of the guys too) who are completely star-struck with my dad.
“I can’t believe people love these movies so much,” I murmur as we get comfortable, reclining back.
“I don’t get it either,” Blake says from my left.
