Corruption

Chapter 7

"Lip," I say, pulling my hand away from his hold, dragging it close to my chest, "What's that on the back of your neck?" My heart is racing, the movie or whatever that was back there is still prominent in my mind, but the marks on Lips neck - that had to be from last night, when I tried to pry him off of me, right?

He rubs the back of his neck, "What?" But when he pulls his hand away, the scratches no longer exist. "What are you talking about, Fiona?"

My mouth feels dry; I couldn't have imagined all that, could I? "I...there was - your neck and then...just now, the movie; it - I thought it..."

He turns to face me, halting our leisure pace to his car. His eyebrows are furrowed and he looks concerned. I don't blame him; I'd be ready to have me committed to an asylum. He grabs my hand and his mouth works, "Let's get dinner. We'll wait for them at Chipotle."

"Let's go get dinner," I say, calming down and bypassing going home, "We'll wait for them at Chipotle," I suggest.

Lip tilts his head, "Are you sure, Fi? You seemed a bit shook up."

I bite my lips, "I hadn't been expecting the movie to be that scary," I admit. "I'm alright now," I insist, "Just hungry." He chuckles and I giggle. He tugs me out of the theatre and sends a text to Will or Ben or maybe both. It's a bit colder than earlier and when my hands begin to get numb, Lip tucks them into his pocket, his fingers lacing between mine. It's a five-minute walk to the nearest Chipotle and I idly wonder why I hadn't asked for McDonald's across the street, but I shrug it out, trying to enjoy the quiet walk.

"I'm sorry," I finally say.

"Hmm?" Lip turns to me, his lips in a polite smile.

I lick my lips and restate, "I'm sorry for pulling you out of the movie - I just wasted your money and know you don't even know how the movie ends."

"Oh, Fiona," Lip chuckles, "Trust me, your mental health is much more important to me that the ending of the movie. I bet they all die anyway."

But all I really hear is, "Mental health?" I glance up at him, wide eyes, "You think I'm crazy," and it's not even a question from my lips, it's a statement.

"Of course not, Fi," Lip assures me. He shoulders the door of Chipotle and tugs me forward, finally releasing my hand. It's warm in here and smells amazing. We order and find a booth, I try not to think about his comment on my mental health too much but it is something worth questioning in regards to these past few days.

"You're quiet," he notes when I nibble on chip and stare off warily.

I scrunch my nose and before he thinks I'm ignoring him, I asked, "What happened today?"

"What do you mean?" I glance at his lips when he speaks and I think he notices but he doesn't call me out.

"You kind of stormed out at lunch today after yelling at Mel. And this morning, Will said you were in a pissy mood," I explain, picking at the rice in my plate.

"I thought you didn't like Melody," he points out, completely disregarding anything else I've said.

"I can't hate Melody, why would I?"

"You told me you wanted me to stop fucking her, last night."

"That doesn't mean I hate her," I say quietly, a furrow in my eyebrows, "I thought that was a dream."

He shrugs, "What exactly do you think you dreamed about?"

I shake my head, laughing shortly, "Don't do that. You're trying to divert the conversation."

He grins, "We don't have to converse at all, Fi." He nods his head to the back, "There's a bathroom down there; we can find some other ways to work that mouth of yours."