Better Than the Movies

I have a nerd-level fascination with movie soundtracks.

that soap or deodorant?”

His big hand landed on the shifter, and his eyebrows crinkled when he looked over at me. “Pardon?”

“You smell really good, but it isn’t your usual scent.”

He didn’t put the car in drive but instead just looked at me. “My usual scent?”

“Don’t act like I’m weird. Your normal cologne is kind of, like, piney, but tonight you smell more… I don’t know… spicy.” The image of him shirtless and putting on deodorant popped into my head, and I cleared my throat, sending it away.

His voice was deep and kind of rumbly as he gave a throaty chuckle. “Holy shit, Liz Buxbaum knows my scent.”

He looked at me and shrugged like that explained everything.

“But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.”

Wes was the good guy in the movie. Yes, he was funny and the life of the party, but he was also dependable and understanding and loyal. Even though I realized after prom that I didn’t need him to be, he was a Mark Darcy.

Only better.

I was about to say it out loud, to my mom, when Wes looked at me with that smile I loved. “You ready, Buxbaum? Mr. Fuzzy’s getting hungry and so am I.”

It was Wes’s idea to choose somewhere with outdoor seating so Fitz could enjoy the great outdoors from his carrier before the long car ride.

How could I not love him?

“You’ve loved him since kindergarten.” His eyes were all I could
see as he quietly said, “I didn’t want our kiss to get in the way of that if it was what you really wanted.”

How had I ever thought Wes was anything other than amazing? I didn’t even try to stop the lovesick smile from taking over my face as I set my hands on his chest and said, “What I really wanted was to go with you.”

“Well, you could’ve told me that, Buxbaum.” His voice was just a breath between us as he said, “Because just seeing you in that dress made me want to punch our very good friend Michael.”

“It did?”

“But it does. It’s just so swoony.”

“Forget swoony.” He let go of the strings and slid his hands up the sides of my face until he was holding it in his big palms. I sucked in a breath as his mouth lowered, and my brain cued up the perfect song for this ending. Or rather, this beginning.

I’ve been searching a long time,

For someone exactly like you

Our kiss was breathless and wild and Wes pulled away too soon. He wrapped his arms around me, picked me up, and moved me to the trunk of my car.

He smiled after plopping me down and said, “Do you realize
we could’ve been doing this for years if you weren’t such a pain in the ass?”

“Nah—I didn’t like you until recently.”

“Enemies-to-lovers—it’s our trope, Buxbaum.”

“You poor, confused little love lover.” A giggle shimmied through me before I set my hands on his face and said as I pulled him back to me, “Just shut up and kiss me.”

Cue the Bazzi.

Then I blurted, “So do you like her?”

His eyebrows furrowed together like he hadn’t expected the question, which was fair, because I hadn’t expected to ask it.

But I needed to know.

He swallowed and I thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he said, “Alex is great.”

“Oh.” I hoped my face didn’t show how close I was to crying, how that one syllable was like a punch to the stomach. “Well, yay. I’ve got to go.”

I took a step around him, but he grabbed my arm and stopped me. “That’s it? You’re not going to explain what all of that was?”

“It doesn’t matter now.”

“It might.”

“It doesn’t, okay?” I tried to sound light and easy, like I was fine with everything as he dropped his hand. “I made the CD and set an
embarrassing scene because I realized that Michael isn’t the person I can’t stop thinking about, and I wanted to tell you. I mean, he’s great, but being with him is nothing like eating burgers with you, or sneaking out to the Secret Area to make s’mores and look at the stars, or fighting with you over a parking space. But it took me too long to figure that out, and now you’ve got Alex.”

He opened his mouth, but I shook my head.

“No. It’s fine—I get it. She’s flawless and sweet, and as much as I hate to say it, you deserve someone like her.” I took a big, shaky breath as those dark eyes made me so sorry for everything I’d done to get us here. “Because I was wrong, Wes. You are the good stuff.”

He scratched his chin and looked past me, down the street. Then he settled his eyes on my face and said, “That’s not the only thing you’re wrong about.”

“What?” Leave it to him to kick me when I’m down. “What’re you talking about?”

“You’re wrong about Alex. She’s not flawless.”

“Bennett, no one is totally flawless—come on.” I couldn’t believe his nerve. “She’s pretty dang close, though.”

“I suppose.”

“You suppose? What on earth could she possibly be lacking? Do you want bigger boobs or something? Is she not—”

“She’s not you.”

“What?”

“She. Isn’t. You.”

“She’s pretty, but her face doesn’t transform into sunlight when she talks about music.” He did that clench thing with his jaw and said, “She’s funny, but not spit-out-your-drink-in-astonishment funny.”

It felt like my heart was going to explode as his eyes moved down to my lips under the glow of the buzzing streetlight. He moved his face a little closer to mine, looked into my eyes, and rumbled, “And when I see her, I don’t feel like I have to talk to her or mess up her hair or do something—anything—to get her to swing that gaze on me.”

My hands were shaking when I tucked my hair behind my ears and breathed, “You haven’t messed up my hair in a really long time.”

“And it’s been killing me.” He took a step closer, which pressed me against the side of my car. “I fell in love with teasing you in the second grade, when I first discovered that I could turn your cheeks pink with just a word. Then I fell in love with you.”

I still couldn’t believe he’d taken her back there.

His nostrils flared and he said, “Oh, well, that explains everything.”

“Why do you seem mad at me?” I raised my eyes to his face and waited for an answer. I was the one who wished to spontaneously combust. Why was he being salty?

His jaw flexed before he said, “Because I hate games.”

“What games?”

“What games?” His eyes were hot, and yeah—he was mad. “You won your precious Michael, but as soon as I looked twice at Alex, you’re burning me this unbelievable CD and rambling about lucky
pennies in a way that makes me think I’m the penny in that particular scenario. While wearing my baseball hoodie. What are you doing to me?”