The Thing About Three

chapter two | up in the bleachers

"HERE YOU GO," Dallas murmured, handing me a warm burger wrapped in foil before sitting down next to me, leaning back against the chain link fence that lined the top of the bleachers.

"Thanks," I said, not tearing my eyes away from the halftime show. I held the burger in my hands, letting it warm up my chilly fingers. "Geez, it's way colder than I thought it would be."

Seconds later, Dallas shed his brown, Sherpa-lined jacket and draped it around my shoulders.

I started to protest, knowing he'd be cold in his thin, long sleeves. "Dal—"

"Nope," he cut me off. "Put on the jacket, Claire."

I removed it from my shoulders and held it out to him. "Dallas—"

He didn't look at me, his eyes trained on the band marching across the field. "Claire, if you don't wear that jacket right now, I'll throw it away."

I retracted my arm, setting my hamburger in my lap as I slipped the warm coat on. This was something I had come to expect from him. He was generous, sometimes to the point where he hurt himself in the process, but that was just part of the reason why I had such a monstrous crush on him.

As I started to unwrap my burger, I felt an arm wrap around my shoulders, pulling me flush against Dallas's side. If it wasn't so cold out, I'm sure I would've melted into a puddle right then and there.

This was a big move. Dallas never showed PDA. Like, ever. Could this possibly mean something?

"This alright?" he asked in my ear, "I'm kinda cold, probably because someone took my jacket."

Now, I could've come up with a sassy remark, or maybe even a laugh, but all I managed to get out was a squeak before I nervously began eating my hamburger.

Nervously meaning that I took extremely large bites and ate faster than I could chew.

"Woah, calm down, Claire," Dallas laughed, squeezing my shoulder, "no one is gonna take it from you. You don't have to eat so fast."

I tried my best to swallow the huge lump of burger in my mouth, and eventually managed a giggle once it was down.

I did my best to focus on the game once my hamburger was gone, but when his arm was around me like that, I could barely remember what team I was supposed to be cheering for.

"Hey, you alright?" Dallas asked me, leaning in close.

"Yep, I'm good," I said, still not looking at him.

"You sure?"

"Mm-hmm," I hummed, boldly scooting closer to him. I dared a glance at him, but my eyes got caught when I realized he was already looking at me.

And he didn't make a move to look away. I certainly couldn't make much sense of anything with his eyes on me and our faces so close together, but could at least discern that this was definitely something. Right?

But before I could really let myself analyze and obsess over ever little detail of the moment, a very annoying voice hacked through the moment like a dull, jagged blade.

"Hey, Claire."

I only turned to look at the source of the words when Dallas's eyes disconnected from mine and drifted past me, landing on the dyed blonde-haired, hazel-eyed annoyance that made me want to rip my hair out and throw a punch all at once.

"Hey, Megan," I greeted bitterly, though I did a pretty good job at hiding my bitterness with a very, very fake smile and a happy voice that rivaled her own.