THAT EVENING, I WENT into work for my shift. Friday nights were always busy, but twice a month we pushed the shelves against the walls to open up the store and pull down the giant projection screen. Honeyfield didn’t have a movie theater, so like with a lot of other things, we made our own. We charged five dollars at the door, first come, first served until we were at full capacity. Old folks lined up camp chairs in the back, while younger people and families took up the floor with blankets and coolers like Movie in the Park, minus the park. Tourists who regularly passed through our town loved it, and locals didn’t have much else to do, so we filled up fast. Some people even dressed up as characters from our features. It was a whole thing.
I loved dressing up for movie night—especially because it often allowed me to recycle some of those costumes Gram had helped me with for my reviews—but between my fight with Paxton and my run-in with Jared, I’d forgotten all about it. And Mean Girls had so many iconic outfits too, damn it. Brady gave me a shy wave from behind the register. Even he’d worn a pink polo in an easy nod to Cady Heron.
“Hey, look, Batman—Robin is here,” Elise said to Midnight as she jumped off the counter where they’d been talking. Elise’s long dark hair and big eyes were hidden behind a blue hoodie and sunglasses. “You two had one hell of a night.”
“Why am I Robin?” I asked. “I want to be Batman.”
Elise gave me an incredulous look. “Are you serious? Our Midnight is literally the Dark Knight of Honeyfield, and she’s the one who has done the actual ass-kicking.”
Okay. Solid points. I still wanted to be Batman.
Midnight smiled at Elise. “Thank you, love.”
“Where’s your costume?” Elise asked me. “Don’t you live for these nights?”
I glanced down at my short-sleeved yellow sweater and jeans. “I’m the extra who shoves another girl against the lockers during the big fight scene. You only see the back of her head, but I was going for understated.”
“Deep,” Brady said.
Indeed.
Midnight had the night off, but she stuck around so she and Elise could have a date night of sorts. Even though they wouldn’t so much as hold hands in public, and Elise was on call and could leave at any moment. It was still sweet. And so much more than Midnight had been willing to do even six months ago. She’d really meant it when she said things would be different this time around.
Brady and I were responsible for running movie night, but once we dealt with the initial rush of people trying to get in the door, it pretty much ran itself. I set up the rickety wooden table and metal box for the entry fee. Brady got the projector and DVD set up.
“Ready?” I asked him. He gave me a thumbs-up, and I unlocked the door.
Lenny Jackson, formerly of the Jackson farm before he sold it to his son and moved into town, hobbled in with his camp chair under his arm. “Don’t know why you kids can’t show a good, old-fashioned shoot-’em-up once in a while.”
“I hear your cries, Mr. Jackson.” I took his five and he set up his chair at the back of the store. He bitched about every movie we featured, but it didn’t stop him from being first through the door every other Friday.
A steady stream of people flowed in off the sidewalk for the next half hour. Brady gave me a nod to let me know we were almost at capacity—just enough room left for one more small family or a couple. I turned back around to let the people coming in next know they were last, and froze on the spot. Paxton stood before me.
With his arm draped over the shoulders of Strawberry Sinclair.
My heart dropped to my stomach. Paxton brought a date to movie night, when he knew damn well I’d be working. Strawberry—who had been cursed with an incredibly awful name, but made up for it by being all sweetness and sunshine—shifted uncomfortably at Paxton’s side. With his goofy face that was somehow cute even when it shouldn’t have been, and her miles of golden-brown hair and her heart-shaped face, they made a perfect little picture. The boy who raised bunnies was out on a date with the farmer’s daughter who was active in 4-H and loved animals more than people. She’d be perfect for Paxton. Just perfect.
He had the nerve to smile when he handed me a ten.
“I … uh …” Am dying? Want to punch you in your solar plexus? Oh God. Tears gathered under my lids. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t let him think this upset me. I had to play this casual. No big deal. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Nailed it.
The Brewsters shuffled their grandkids to the far end of the store, shooting me dirty looks over their shoulders. Like they wouldn’t be learning worse words from the movie. Strawberry bit her lip while Brady glared at us, his arms crossed over his broad chest. Awesome. I’d somehow managed to piss off the nicest guy in town. But seriously, who hasn’t dropped an f-bomb or two at a family-friendly function?
“Come on, Macy.” Paxton lowered his voice. “That’s not fair and you know it.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. Of course it wasn’t fair. He was free to date whoever he wanted. We’d both said some ugly things to each other we probably couldn’t ever take back, and where else was he supposed to take a date in this town? I put his ten in the metal box and slammed the lid shut a little harder than intended.
“You’re right.” I tried to plaster on a smile and it hurt; it hurt so bad, I thought my whole face might crack. “I hope you fall in love and make lots of pretty babies together.”
Jealousy was such a gross emotion. If it were a color, it would be chartreuse.
Strawberry choked and took a noticeable step away from Paxton, unhooking his arm from her shoulder in the process. “I didn’t really sign up for marriage and babies.”
“Who said anything about marriage?” I asked.
A long shadow fell over the three of us, and I glanced up at Brady. I hadn’t seen him so visibly pissed since the day he’d stood up to Jared. “Is this how it’s going to be?” Brady asked.
Huh. He hadn’t been glaring at me after all. I looked back over at Strawberry. She cringed for a brief second before snuggling back up to Paxton. I knew that game. And I had the likes, retweets, and subscribers to prove it.
I pointed between Paxton and Strawberry. “I see what’s going on here. Well played, you two. You had me there for a moment.”
Strawberry rolled her eyes and grabbed Paxton’s hand. “Let’s go find some seats.”
She bumped into Brady as she passed, and not in a friendly way. For some reason it made me like her more. Even though she was technically helping Paxton in his Make Macy Feel Like Shit campaign, I appreciated the reason why she’d done it.
I jumped off my seat to hang the At Capacity sign on the door, really more of an excuse to get my feelings under control. By the time I turned back around, Brady still stood in the same place, slack-jawed.
I rested my elbow on his shoulder, which I had to raise over my head at an odd angle. “Looks like we’ve got the same problem. Want to be my pathetic pity date for the night?”
A low, humorless chuckle rumbled in Brady’s chest. “We’re working.”
“Hey, Midnight!” one of the Brewster boys yelled. “Nice Janis Ian costume.”
Midnight hadn’t dressed up.
“I think you better start that movie before a murder is committed,” I whispered to Brady.
He nodded and dimmed the lights before Midnight could launch herself across the store. She had an amazing amount of velocity for someone so tiny. Like a scary Wes Craven–esque hummingbird.
I hadn’t watched where Paxton had gone, but it didn’t stop my eyes from seeking him out anyway. He and Strawberry had laid out a blanket and put their backs against the counter, right underneath the register. I had a strong urge to drop the wrench on Paxton’s head and see how accidental I could make it look. They didn’t act like two people on a date, though. They were both job interview levels of stiff and formal. In fact, I’d shown more affection for the salmon Eric had tried to shove down my throat.
Paxton caught me staring, and before I could look away, he leaned toward Strawberry and whispered in her ear. Whatever the two of them were up to, they both sucked at faking it. It would’ve been comical if it hadn’t been done in part to get a rise out of me. I stuck my nose in the air and hopped up on my stool behind the register. It didn’t bother me that Paxton had purposely tried to hurt me. Not at all. Because the first rule of professional-level faking: you had to convince yourself before you had a chance of convincing anyone else.
I zoned out during the first half of the movie, keeping my ears trained in the direction of the not-so-happy couple on the other side of the counter, and my eyes on Brady’s expressions. He loomed in the back, his face illuminated by the projector, and he had a clear line of sight of the two people who had us both on edge. Every time he frowned, I had the urge to lean over the counter until I could see for myself what was going on.
Strawberry got up to use the bathroom, and because I had no shame, I took the opportunity to claim her seat next to Paxton. “Date going well?” I asked.
He shook his head and turned back toward the movie. “It’s fine.”
“I get what you’re doing. I even get why.” I reached across him and took some of his M&M’s because again, no shame. Goose bumps peppered my arm when I brushed his. “But do you have to torture Brady, too? He has nothing to do with why you’re pissed at me.”
Paxton gave me a cold stare. “Contrary to what you believe, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”
“I never said it did.” I popped an M&M into my mouth. “I only pointed out your obvious sham, and just because I’m ninety-nine percent sure it has something to do with me, doesn’t mean I’m a narcissist.”
We both turned at the sound of the bell dinging above the entrance. Just in time to see Strawberry’s golden-brown hair flying out the door, Brady not far behind. I gave him a mental fist bump.
“Oh darn,” I said. “Looks like you lost your date.”
“Looks like it,” Paxton said without much heat. He stood and dusted off his jeans. “Enjoy your movie, Macy Mae.”
The bell dinged again as Paxton walked out of the store, and I only half pretended I’d sat through the credits hoping he’d eventually come back.