I’m in awe of this man who bought out this theater so we can spend it completely alone. I know it couldn’t have been cheap and even though the Hollises are wealthy, it’s the thought behind it that’s making my heart melt.
But also now I don’t have to feel bad about talking through it because although I’ve heard of this movie, I haven’t a single clue what it’s about. But Tripp doesn’t seem to mind my commentary as we drink our slushies and eat popcorn and gummy worms.
“Oof, the quality.”
“You’ll get used to it,” he reassures me.
These recliners are super comfortable, and my ass is toasty warm, so I have no complaints.
“Ooh, she makes pottery.”
“Demi is so beautiful, but that haircut is not it, bestie.”
“It was on trend for the late eighties and early nineties,” he counters.
“I guess. She can really pull off any look, but I love her long hair.”
A dreamy sigh escapes my lips when a bare-chested Patrick enters and sits behind her. “He’s so classically handsome. I just wanna thread my fingers through his golden strands and give them a little tug.”
Tripp glances at me with an arched brow.
“What? Am I not supposed to appreciate good hair?”
He smirks, shoving more gummy worms in his mouth. This is why I requested my own bag.
“Holy shit, that’s hot.” My eyes are glued to the screen when Patrick starts kissing Demi’s neck while her hands are covered in clay. Even though he’s supposed to be helping her, he accidentally destroys her vase, and they begin making out instead.
“You should get me a pottery wheel so we can recreate that scene. Except I don’t wanna get all messy. We’ll just skip to the good stuff.”
He barks out a laugh. “Duly noted.”
“So this is a spicy movie.” I giggle when Patrick slides his hand underneath her oversized shirt and palms her bare ass.
“Dear Lord, look at his abs.” I mimic licking up an ice cream cone and Tripp shoots me an annoyed side-eye. “You’re the one who brought me here to watch a Patrick Swayze porno.”
He inhales a sharp breath as if he’s regretting that decision.
“Fine, no more commentary on his looks.” I mimic zipping my lips closed.
Now they’re walking in some dark alley. Could never be me.
“Wait, who is that guy?” I sit up when some rando demands Patrick’s wallet.
Demi’s screaming at Patrick for him to just hand it over, but when the mugger shoves her, Patrick loses his shit.
As he should.
My heart’s racing as I watch the scene unfold and when the gun goes off, I jump.
“Oh my God. Who got shot?” I grip the armrest and sit up.
Then Patrick’s chasing after the guy, and I blow out a relieved breath.
“Oh whew, he’s okay.” I palm my chest over the pounding inside my ribcage.
Ten seconds later…
Patrick’s watching Demi cry out for help, and I’m just as confused as he looks.
“Wait, what? He got SHOT?” I squeeze Tripp’s arm when we see a bloody Patrick in Demi’s lap. “No way he dies. Right?”
I gasp when the realization hits me that it’s Patrick’s ghost watching the scene unfold.
“I can’t believe he dies,” I choke out. “Why would you take me to this?”
“Why do you think it’s the title of the movie?” he asks carefully.
“I dunno! I wasn’t thinking of it literally.” I frown. “So now what? He’s gonna haunt her until the murderer is caught?”
He takes my fidgeting hand and threads his fingers between mine as we watch the funeral scene.
“If we get to attend our own funerals from the afterlife, everyone better be cryin’ over me and only showin’ off my best photos.”
I frown when Demi screws up her vase. “Aww. I hate seeing how sad she looks. She can’t even enjoy makin’ pottery anymore.”
My heart aches at the grief I can feel on her behalf.
We continue watching as he learns how to go through walls and kick cans, and then the realization of how things are going to continue hits me when Whoopi Goldberg shows up.
“Whoopi’s the psychic medium in this?”
“Technically, she’s a fraud until Patrick shows up, which is why she’s freakin’ the fuck out.”
I snort.
Tripp continues holding my hand and we eat popcorn with our free ones. I’m glued to the screen to find out how the hell this progresses now that someone can hear him.
“Oh, hell no. I see a penny sliding up a door and floating in the air, I’m fuckin’ gone. How is she so chill?”
“Well, if someone showed up after I died and knew private details about us no one else would know, you wouldn’t stay to hear her out?” Tripp asks.
“See, that’d never happen because you’re not allowed to die on me now that we’re finally together. But if you did and were murdered, I’d fully expect your ghost to harass a psychic until she agrees to talk to me so we can figure out how to catch the murderer.”
He grins. “Okay, deal.”
The scenes where Patrick makes Whoopi pretend to be Rita Miller to get back at Carl are thrilling. I want that bastard to rot.
And when the broken window pierces Carl’s chest and he’s taken over by some weird black smoke, I smile wide in victory. It was much more satisfying than Willie’s death, even though he’s the one who actually shot Patrick. Carl was the mastermind behind it.
“Thank God. No one schemes to kill my Patrick and lives to tell the tale.”
Tripp grins. “Just wait now…”
“Ugh, my heart can’t take any more,” I say when we watch the light shining above Patrick and he’s saying goodbye to Demi and Whoopi.
My throat burns as I hold back tears, but when I can no longer keep it together, I let them fall.
And then I wonder how watching this is affecting Tripp with his own personal experience of losing his best friend.
When the final scene ends with Patrick fading away to his new home, Tripp leans over and wipes my cheek with the pad of his thumb.
“So did you like it?”
I glower at him.
“I’ll take that as a…maybe.”
“Of course I did, but goddamn. It was heart-wrenching.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you okay?” I ask when the lights return and notice how red his eyes are.
“I’m good. Just made me think of Billy and how I wish I had the chance to say goodbye.”
“I wish you did, too.”
“But it was nice not having an anxiety attack like I normally would at thinking about him. I think you being next to me helped.”
“Really?” I squeeze his hand. “Guess that means we can’t ever be apart.”
He smiles wide. “Patrick’s character and I do have one thing in common, though. When he talked at the beginning of the movie about whenever something good in his life happens, he’s afraid he’s gonna lose it. That’s exactly what it feels like being this happy. Like I don’t deserve it and it’s gonna get ripped away from me.”
His words slice through me and shatter my heart all over again from what I just experienced. His raw honesty makes my gut somersault at the thought of Tripp getting hurt and me being the cause of it.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I promise, cupping his face and pulling him in for a kiss. “No one’s gonna stop us from being together and happy.”
Noah will be over the moon once I tell her the news and their parents already love me, so it’s only a matter of keeping Travis away from us for good.
“Am I taking you home or do you wanna stay at my place tonight?” he asks as we walk hand in hand through the parking lot.
“Sleepover? Uh, yes, please!” I beam at the thought of curling up to Tripp all night. Though I should be nervous since we’ve never done that before, but I’m excited to spend more time with him.
He chuckles and when we get to his truck, he smacks my hand away when it touches the handle. When he opens my door for me, I burst out laughing at his aggressiveness in not allowing me to open it for myself.
“Surprised you let me walk,” I tease when he hops in on his side.
“I figured hauling you over my shoulder again would be frowned upon.”
“Well, just for future reference, the only circumstance it’s accepted is when I’m naked and you’re throwing me around like a rag doll. Then by all means, throw me over your shoulder.”
A deep growl escapes his throat as he grips the steering wheel with both hands. “You know it’s a forty-minute drive to my house, right? Must you make me drive with a hard-on every time we’re in my truck?”
I shrug with a smug grin. “Oops.”
But I know better than to mess with him now that it’s pitch-black out. The country backroads can be dangerous if deer jump out or when other drivers aren’t paying attention and suddenly swerve.
As we drive back to Sugarland Creek, my stomach starts to turn, and nausea hits me as we go down a winding road.
“You alright?” Tripp asks when I press my cheek against the cool window.
“Just feelin’ a little queasy. I think I ate too much sugar.”
“Oh shit, do you need me to pull over?”
I shake my head. “No, I should be fine once we’re not driving.”
“I’ll slow down. These roads can be twisty and give you motion sickness.”
Part of me wants to tell him to speed up so we get home faster, but as soon as he lets off the gas, it settles.
“Better?” he asks when I sit up.
“Yeah, that was weird. I think it passed.”
He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. “I have meds at home that should help.”
Finally, we arrive at the ranch and once he parks, I wait for him this time to grab my door.
“Good girl.” He winks as he takes my hand and helps me down.
“You better watch it. Those words are known to make panties disappear.”
“Oh, I already have yours from earlier.”
I laugh at his cocky grin. “And where exactly did you put ’em?”
After our little moment in the coffee trailer, I drove home and changed before our date and replaced the ones he stole. But I wouldn’t be opposed to him ripping off another pair and keeping those, too.
“That is my little secret and only for me to know.”
I scoff as he unlocks his front door and motions for me to go inside first.
“If I know you as well as I think I do, they’re in one of two places. Your nightstand drawer that’s most likely filled with condoms and lube or your truck’s glove compartment. Damn, I shoulda checked before!”
“Wrong and wrong.”
“In one of your dressers.”
“Nope.”
I walk farther into his apartment. Technically, it’s a duplex, but Landen lives upstairs, so close enough. I’ve only been in here a few times but never had the opportunity to really look and snoop around.
“Wait…I know.” I help myself to a tour and walk down the hallway, past the master and guest rooms before I find the right door.
“Where’re ya goin’?” He follows behind.
“If I find ’em, I get to steal ’em back.”
“I don’t think so! I stole those fair and square.”
When I enter the bathroom, I whip open the shower curtain and bark out a victory laugh.
“HA! You little perv.” I swipe them off the showerhead.
Tripp snatches them from my fingers and holds them above my head. “Don’t think so, Sunny. These are mine.”
I raise my arm, but it’s no use even if I could jump ten inches high. “Is that so? Because I hardly think sheer pink is your color.”
“No?” He holds them up to his scruffy face. “I think they go well with my complexion.”
“Oh my God, you’re an underwear freak, aren’t you? Do you have a bunch of random women’s panties stashed in your drawers?”
I reach for them once they’re within my arm’s length, but he’s too quick and yanks them over my head again.
Just as I attempt a second jump, the queasiness returns.
“I think I’m gonna be sick,” I tell him and turn around toward the toilet.
The moment I lift the lid, my stomach wretches and all the popcorn, M&M’s, gummy worms, and the slushie come out.
“Oh shit, Sunny.” Tripp kneels beside me, grabs my hair, and rubs my back as wave after wave slams into me.
Ten minutes later, I wonder how I have anything left in me to release, but it doesn’t stop. The pain is so intense, I swear I pop a blood vessel in my eye.
“I think I’m done.” I groan, and he helps me stand.
“Sit, and I’ll get you some water.”
I put the lid down and lean back.
When he returns, he hands me a pink bottle and a glass of water.
“Do you feel any better now that it’s all out of your system?”
I open the bottle and take a long chug, then chase it down with the water.
“Not really. Throwing up in front of you is like number one on my ick list, so ya know, glad we got that outta the way early on.” My elbows rest on my knees as I wait for the queasiness to vanish.
“C’mon, I’m tuckin’ you into my bed and I’ll put the trash can next to it in case you feel sick again.”
He scoops me up in his arms as if I’m weightless, and I rest my head on his chest as he carries me to his room.
When he puts me on my feet, he pulls the comforter and sheet back, then tells me to sit. “I’m gonna grab you a T-shirt to sleep in.”
Every little movement feels amplified, and I groan as he lifts my arms and takes off my sweater. Then he slides an oversized shirt down and helps me out of my leggings to pull the shirt down to my knees.
“You can keep this one, too.” He winks. “Wanna try lying down now?”
I nod, although I think it might make me feel worse.
He tucks the blankets all around me and repositions my hair so it’s out of my face.
I pout. “This is not how I envisioned you puttin’ me in your bed for the first time.”
“Don’t worry, Sunny. We’ll schedule a make-up sleepover when you’re back to feelin’ better.” He cups my cheek, then leans down and kisses my forehead. “Be right back with your water and bucket.”
I fall asleep somewhere between him setting my phone down on his nightstand and then him crawling in behind me and rubbing my back.
When I wake up sometime in the middle of the night, there’s a lamp glowing, and I hear soft snores next to me. Turning around toward Tripp, I study his features up close and personal. The scruff covering his sharp jawline. The light dusting of freckles on his cheeks that are only visible if you’re looking for them. His dark eyelashes that are somehow longer than mine. And his perfect lips that I never want to stop kissing.
I still can’t believe that after all this time pining over him, he’s finally mine.
Now I just need to make sure my past stays in the past, and I don’t lose him.
