In Control (The City Series) (11 page)

My smile dropped. “Porter, I don’t have much money with me,” I confessed.

“Well, that’s okay, because I still have my dad’s credit card.” He held up the silver card and grinned.

“I can’t let you pay for me—”

“I want to,” Porter interjected.

He hailed us a cab and told the driver which theater we were going to. The space in the backseat was big enough to fit at least four bodies, yet Porter sat in the very middle, next to me. Not so close that our bodies touched, but close enough that butterflies swarmed my stomach.

“I wanna see so many movies!” Porter was practically bouncing in his seat as he talked about the many movies that were playing. “I really wanna see
The Chronicles of Narnia
, but
Iron Man
just came out and that looks
so
good! Oh! I wanna see
The Strangers
, too. That looks really scary!”

This is what being my age should feel like. Porter made me see that being a kid meant being stress-free. It meant getting excited over the simple things in life and not having to worry about anything.

“Kingsley,” Porter said, waving his hand in front of my face, “you with me?”

“What? I’m sorry. What did you say?”

Porter laughed. “I just asked if any of those movies sounded good to you.”

“They all do,” I lied. I had no idea what any of the movies were about. I didn’t get to watch much TV, and when I did, it was always what the Hendersons had on. I didn’t care what movie we saw. I knew that the whole time it would be playing, I’d be discreetly staring at him.

The cab dropped us off in front of the theater and Porter followed me out onto the sidewalk. I looked up at the oversized sign atop the brick building. Even though it wasn’t lit up, I imagined how beautiful it could be. The bright neon lights would illuminate the sidewalk in blues, reds, and greens. Moviegoers would walk hand in hand up to the ticket booth, excitedly purchasing tickets for a film they’d been dying to see for months. I imagined the perfect moments that could be had at a movie theater, knowing that this was my first and more than likely last time here.

“C’mon!” Porter grabbed my hand and rushed through the doors.

The line wasn’t too long, but it allowed Porter more time to debate which movie he wanted to see more. He went back and forth between
Iron Man
and
The Strangers
, finally picking the scary movie. The only other scary movie I’d seen was
Jeepers Creepers
when I was living with my last foster mom. I could only watch thirty minutes of it before covering my eyes and pleading with her to turn it off.

“Want some popcorn? This place makes the best popcorn around,” Porter raved.

“No, it’s okay.” I did want some, though. The smell of the popcorn filled the entire theater, and without even eating it, I could taste the salty butter on my tongue.

“We’re getting some,” Porter declared, grabbing my hand again and rushing to the registers.

The theater was busy and only two seats were left near the front of the room. Porter complained that we wouldn’t be able to see anything since the screen would be so close, but I smiled anyway, hoping to convey the excitement I was feeling.

The armrest between us kept our bodies from touching. Each time Porter adjusted his position, though, his shoulder rubbed against mine. When the room went dark and the screen began playing the movie, my courage appeared. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him. He was stuffing his mouth with handfuls of popcorn, laughing at the previews. Traces of popcorn were left on his shirt and he made no move to wipe them off. I took a big, brave gulp and swept my hand against his chest.

“You had popcorn on you,” I explained when he looked over at me.

“Oh,” Porter smiled, “thanks.”

For two whole hours, I was able to stare at Porter to my heart’s content. When he laughed, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down just like a yo-yo. His eyes widened when the music in each scene grew louder and louder. He bit his lip every time a loud scream echoed through the theater, and once he got so scared he clutched my arm until the scene was over.

I’d never thought I’d actually hope that a scary movie would play on repeat, but when the credits rolled and Porter stood from his seat, I was almost tempted to suggest we see it again.

“How many times per hour are you going to have to pee?” Wren complained.

“We’ve only stopped once since being on the road.”

“No, we’ve stopped twice,” he corrected. “Once when we were right down the street from your place and again an hour ago.”

“Fine, I’ll hold it. If I pee on your precious leather, though, you can’t get mad.”

Wren flipped on his blinker and turned onto the exit. I smiled out the window, happy that I’d won this round.

Over the past hour and a half, we’d listened to three Muse albums, argued over who was a better singer, Freddie Mercury or Robert Plant, and played Twenty Questions. I’d tried being sneaky and asked if he had any tattoos that spelled anything out, and what they meant, but Wren quickly shot that question down by turning up
“Panic Station” and dramatically singing along.

“Fine. If you’re not going to play by the rules, I quit,” I whined.

“You already know I have a tattoo that spells out something. Don’t be so manipulative.”

“Manipulative!” I yelled. “You refuse to open up about it, and by default, that just makes me more curious.”

“I refuse to open up about something? Did you really just say that?” Wren’s agitation grew as I pushed the subject. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. “You really want to go down that road, Kingsley?”

“This is stupid. We shouldn’t be arguing. Like you said, this is going to be a great vacation,” I said bitterly.

Wren pulled onto the shoulder of the highway abruptly. Once he stopped, he put his car in park and tore off his seatbelt. “Do you want to go back home?” he yelled. “Is this your way of getting out of this situation?”

I refused to look in his direction. My head was swimming with answers to his questions. Maybe this was my way of getting out of the situation—act like a total bitch and Wren will turn his car around. I kept my mouth closed and stared out the window, watching as the cars from the opposite side rushed past us.

“Kingsley, fucking look at me!” he roared.

“Can we just get back on the road? I have lots of fancy Hamptons people I’m dying to meet.”

The more I spoke, the heavier Wren’s breathing became. After a few painfully long seconds, I looked at him. His face was beet red as his stare sparked with anger.

“I’ll ask you one more time, and if you don’t give me a straight answer, I’ll decide for the both of us.”

“What’s the question again?” I goaded.

Wren shook his head. Back and forth, back and forth so many times I was beginning to get dizzy. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea,” he whispered, looking down at his lap.

His silence tortured me and I knew that I had gone too far. It was hard for me to back down and be the one willing to patch things up, but I was realizing that Wren wasn’t going to be the one to fix things this time. It was my turn.

“I’m sorry.” Two words that I haven’t spoken in years came out like I’d been planning to say them all along.

Wren looked up at me like he was unsure of what he just heard. He eyed me warily, as if I’d suddenly turned into an alien. “You’re sorry?”

“Yes! I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t just open up to you. I’m sorry I can’t spill my feelings like I’m a fucking open book!”

“K,” Wren took my hand and calming ran his thumb across my knuckles, “it’s okay. I’m sorry, too. I know you need more time to open up, but you have to understand that I don’t want to be the only one in this relationship spilling my guts.”

“I
do
understand. I just—” I pushed my palms into my forehead, trying to work through my feelings. “I just...I meant what I said. I’m gonna try, but don’t get shitty with me when I do it wrong.”

“Baby,” he grabbed back onto my hands and held onto them tightly, “we’re in this together, okay? We’ll work it out, no matter what.” He pushed his forehead to mine and gave me an encouraging smile.

I nodded, smiling back.

Typically, a time like this would call for make-up sex, but two bodies in a car the size of a Hot Wheels was impossible. I kissed Wren passionately, hoping all of my feelings would find their way into his heart. Since I wasn’t able to
say
the words I knew Wren longed to hear, I wanted him to
feel
them within my kiss.

It was still early in the morning, and since we didn’t have to arrive at his parents until that evening, Wren suggested we make a few pit stops along the way.

“I know you’re not a huge fan of shopping, but there are some antique furniture places in town that we should kill time in,” Wren suggested.

“Sounds enticing,” I replied bleakly.

Wren insisted, ignoring my every plea at not going to a furniture store that most likely smelled like feet and old man’s underwear. Twenty minutes later, he was pulling into a strip mall.

“This will be fun. Stop being such a baby,” Wren scolded.

I rolled my eyes in response, knowing that any sort of rebuttal would put a tear in the delicate lining of our relationship.

Over the next four hours, Wren dragged me into five different stores, the smelly antique one taking up one of those hours. I walked behind Wren, watching as he pretty much touched everything in the store.
Oh, look at these glasses! This rug would look awesome in my living room, right? I should buy this candle for my mom, she loves the smell of roses.
With each comment, I gave Wren my best deadpan stare, hoping he’d get the message that I was clearly not having any fun.

He either got my message loud and clear and continued to torture me by walking through four more aisles just for the fun of it or he was so enthralled with the antiques, he didn’t notice my very evident plea to leave.

“I’m starving, bored, and if I saw a Greyhound bus right about now, I might actually consider hopping on it,” I whined.

I almost got excited when Wren grabbed onto my wrist and walked out of the store, except that we were headed in the opposite direction of the car.

“It’s a good thing we’re nowhere near a bus station then,” Wren observed.

“Please!” I cried. “I can’t walk any further. My clothes already smell musty.”

Wren ignored me, pulling me into a store that could have been duped as a mini Ikea. I was tempted to lounge in a chair that looked like it was crafted haphazardly in the dark, but the moment I began sitting, Wren pulled me up.

“Seriously, please stop acting like a child,” he begged.

Thankfully, Wren didn’t want to see what they had in stock in their back room, so we were well on our way back to the car.

“I’ll take you to one of my favorite restaurants,” Wren said as he buckled his seatbelt.

“Perfect. I came
very
close to eating the plastic fruit displayed in the last furniture store we were in.”

Within a few minutes, we were seated at a table in a restaurant that looked more expensive than the shoes I was wearing. The people seated around us wore Rolex watches and diamonds so big they practically blinded me from across the room. I was surprised this was one of Wren’s favorite places since it wasn’t a hole in the wall whatsoever.

“This place does
not
seem like your style,” I said, my eyes darting around the room.

The tables were placed close together. The textured ceiling looked like a modern art piece. There was one wall covered in red wallpaper, adorned with pictures of cartoon zebras and arrows flying in every direction.
Very odd.

“It’s definitely not my style, but the food is delicious.”

Over the next two hours, Wren and I gorged on more food than I’d eaten in the last week.
Steamed mussels, chilled lobster, and braised short ribs so delicious I could’ve eaten them every day were only my top three dishes. By the time all of the plates were cleared from the table, I couldn’t ever imagine being hungry again.

“Told you the food is incredible,” Wren validated.

“Will you roll me out to your car?”

After Wren had paid and we walked outside, he picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder.

“Put me down!”
I declared, laughing uncomfortably as Wren ran across the parking lot.

“You asked for this!”

He gently placed me on the ground when we arrived at his car, leaning down and kissing the side of my cheek. “Thank you for spending the afternoon with me; you were only snarky half the time.” He smiled and kissed my lips passionately, leaving my knees trembling, and I couldn’t help but smile.

By the time we neared his property, the sun had gone down and we were both full and exhausted. We’d never been in an enclosed space together for more than thirty minutes, unable to get out of each other’s faces if we were annoyed. Most of our conversations happened after we’d just had sex or were taking a shower together. Other than last night on the phone, this was the first time we truly communicated with our clothes on.

Wren drove his car up a driveway that had to be at least two miles. By the time we finally reached the ginormous house, I swore another thirty minutes had passed.