Chapter 3

CHAPTER

THREE

MARTY

" F lowers," I said thoughtfully.

"What about flowers?" Casey reached over and grabbed a handful of chips out of the bowl between us on the couch. On screen, the Fast and the Furious fasted and furioused, or whatever the fuck it was they did.

"I was just thinking of an awesome romantic gesture for Dalton. Since yesterday's picnic got squirreled," I said. "And everyone likes flowers, right?"

"Nah, bro. Flowers are lazy. Flowers are for your mom when you forgot her birthday."

"No, but—" I snagged the bowl back. "Flowers with style. Like, what if I dressed Squirrel in saddlebags and filled them with flowers and he delivered them? That would be hella cute."

"Marty. Bruh. You really want Squirrel involved in your grand romantic gesture after last time?"

"That was an accident. He thought the picnic was for him, that's all."

Casey's gaze flicked to the screen and back to me. "Take him to the movies."

"Squirrel?"

" Dalton ."

"We watch movies all the time, though. "

"Yeah, but what if you went out instead of just streaming it? And what if it was like, a special screening or something?"

I thought hard, chasing a memory. I was pretty sure there was one of those arthouse cinemas the next town over that showed French films. I pulled out my phone and googled to check, quietly proud of myself when I was right. "French films are hella romantic, right?"

Casey looked doubtful. "Maybe, if you speak French."

I waved a hand. Dalton was smarter'n hell, so I bet he'd be able to tell what was going on regardless. And if we couldn't figure it out, we could spend an hour or two sitting in the back row, listening to sexy accents and making out. I could picture it now.

Yeah, this was gonna be great.

I tried figuring out the titles, but they all just looked like someone threw a pile of Scrabble tiles on the ground to me, so I clicked on one at random and booked two tickets online. I texted Dalton.

I'm taking you on a hot date tonight. I'll pick you up at seven.

I was busy adding an alert to my planning app for 6.45 when my phone pinged.

Can I ask where we're going or is it a surprise?

It's a surprise.

The dots appeared, disappeared, reappeared, then

Are there squirrels involved?

I laughed.

Nah. It'll be fun, I swear.

Everything's fun with you.

I felt my face split into a big dumb grin like it always did when Dalton said things like that.

You're only saying that because it's true.

Obviously. Wanna come over and fool around?

My grin widened. When it came to Dalton I always wanted to fool around.

Be right there.

There were only three other cars there when we pulled into the parking lot of the small theater. I looked around, then checked my phone to make sure I hadn't booked the wrong day or something—even after starting on my ADHD meds, I still had dumbass moments—but that wasn't the case this time. "This is it," I announced, climbing out of the Jeep and scooting around to Dalton's side to open his door for him. "I'm taking you to see a French film."

He cocked his head as he got out of the car. "Should I ask why?"

"Because French is the language of romance, and I'm determined to romance the fuck out of you."

Dalton gave me one of his sappy smiles, and he leaned over and kissed me before following me up the steps. The theater doors gave an ominous creak as I pushed them open, and once we were inside I took a good look around. The foyer was decorated in tired-looking blue and gold patterned wallpaper that was peeling at the edges, and there were worn patches in the carpet. The overhead lights flickered, and my nose wrinkled at the overpowering scent of too much air freshener.

Okay, so this place was giving off vibes that were a lot less arthouse and a lot more strip club than I'd expected, but that didn't mean this date wasn't going to be amazing.

There was a bored-looking woman manning the ticket booth, and she handed over the tickets without cracking a smile. When I asked, "Do you guys have a snack bar?" she stared at me silently.

Okay, so maybe we wouldn't be sharing drinks and feeding each other popcorn, but that was cool. I had a packet of jerky in my pocket, and we could always go for donuts afterward.

It was almost time for the movie to start, so we headed through the doors. I stopped for a moment and blinked, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the inky blackness that was only broken by the dim green glow of the exit sign. "It's pretty dark," I whispered. "Are all foreign films this dark?"

I grabbed Dalton's hand and pulled him into the closest row just as the screen came to life, casting flickering shadows over the almost completely empty seats. There was a dude sitting in the row behind us wearing a trench coat, but other than that we had the place mostly to ourselves.

I turned my attention to the screen. Given that my French was limited to fries, dressing, and kisses, I didn't expect to recognize any of the words in the title, but I was wrong. I blinked at the title, trying to make sense of it.

3 Ouvreuses d'Anus

I snorted and elbowed Dalton in the side. "French is funny. It says anus. I wonder what that means in English?"

Dalton didn't answer. He was staring at the screen, and making a wheezing sound like a slowly deflating balloon.

I glanced up at the screen and—oh. I guess anus meant the same, because those sure were some naked buttholes right there in living color. But this was an arthouse film, right? Those always had nudity. It was like an unwritten rule of foreign movies—the weirder the story, the more naked body parts—and so far this one was plenty weird. Just two naked dudes sitting on the end of a bed.

Maybe it made more sense if you spoke French.

On the screen, the two naked dudes got on their hands and knees on a bed, and a couple of equally nude chicks wandered into the room and started licking their assholes. The man sitting behind us let out a harsh breath, then there was the sound of a zipper opening.

Oh-kay then. Pretty sure this wasn't an art film after all.

The scene playing out on screen was actually kinda hot, except for the part where the dude behind us was panting as he jacked off. "Dalton," I whispered urgently, "I think I just booked us a date watching foreign porn."

Just in case he hadn't already figured it out.

Dalton made another strangled noise, and then his shoulders started shaking. When he turned to me, his eyes were bright as he squeaked out, "No shit!"

And then he started laughing, great big whoops of sound that echoed through the theater in counterpoint to the panting and moaning coming from the screen.

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing right along with him because this wasn't funny! It was meant to be romantic!

But when the guy behind us snapped, "Hey! I'm trying to concentrate!" like there was a plot or something, I lost my shit.

On screen, someone cried out something in French.

"Pepe le Pew's gettin' laid, bro!" I gasped, clutching at Dalton's arm, and we both cackled like a pair of laying hens.

As I doubled over laughing, I felt something poking into my thigh—my emergency snack pack.

I fumbled the packet out and waved it at Dalton. "Bro! I brought jerky to a jerkfest!"

Dalton hooted like a baboon, tears streaming down his face .

"Get the fuck out!" someone shouted from the far side of the theater. A figure stood, their dark bulk menacing as they started moving swiftly between the rows, so I grabbed Dalton's arm and we bolted to the foyer.

The ticket window was shut up tight and there was no sign of anyone else as we stumbled out into the parking lot, both still laughing when we got in the Jeep. I sat there for a moment and waited until I could speak before running a hand through my hair and saying, "So, that wasn't what I was expecting. Like, at all. "

Dalton hiccupped out a giggle and he said, "I'm gonna go ahead and guess that you picked that film at random and you don't know any French?"

I shrugged. "Ooh la la?"

Dalton laughed even harder, and then we were both off again. By the time we stopped laughing, my sides hurt. Dalton blew out a long breath, his cheeks flushed and a grin a mile wide stretching his face. "You know, I never thought I'd say this about an evening that involved foreign porn, a guy in a trench coat, and jerky, but that was the best date I've ever been on."

I appreciated him saying that, but I hoped it wasn't true.

And if it was, then I'd just have to try twice as hard next time.