30 Days Too Late

It's You

Rudy

"Dexter, the movie's over. Wake up," I pinch his side.

He shoot's up, his clothes and hair are disheveled. Also, he's disoriented. Dexter was knocked out; I don't know how he was able to sleep through all the screaming and jump scares. He must've been exhausted or his cold has come back for round two and he hasn't told me.

Dexter's eyes set on me and his sudden attention reminds me about our intertwined hands. He withdraws slowly as the theater lights turn on and I readjust my clothes to occupy my racing thoughts about the unfamiliar tingles surging through my hand.

"Next time if you plan to take a nap, let me know so I don't waste money on your ticket," Viola growls and tugs on Dexter's ear. I stifle my laugh as he struggles to part from her. I get up and follow behind the other's who're engaged in a conversation about figure skating which I know nothing about.

Figure skating has never interested me until I met Dexter Kinkaid. The same guy who's hand moves to the small of my back and brings me into the group to engage in conversation. I look up at him and his eyes soften.

"Rudy, do you mind If I invite my skating partner to your place?" Viola asks.

"Sure I don't mind," I shrug.

"Okay, before dinner let's drop our sleeping bags off at Rudys," Lily cheers.

"No!" Dexter shouts, making us stop. We look worriedly at him and changes his demeanor. "We need to have a chat," he directs to me and my heart skips. What the hell did I do?

Lily, Viola and Ace back off as if they've been informed of the subject already. They get in Lily's poor jeep that whines as it starts up. Lily winks at me before speeding out of the parking lot. I turn to Dexter and he has clenched fists and a hard expression.

I release a tense breath and offer him a blank stare. This is the first time I've seen him so serious outside of hockey. Which means, I've truly messed up.

...

I stir the steaming pasta while wafting to make sure it has the right smell. My car's engine and a flick of it's headlights alert me of Dexter's return. My nerves spike and I want to flee for some reason. What could he have brought back with him for our conversation?

My front door shuts, and he gently sets my keys in a bowl. I swallow as he closes in on me. His breaths fan my ear which lines my arms with goosebumps. He's standing unbelievably close, and I can't bare it. I move over a little, but he follows, and I glance at him. His cologne mixes with the pasta's scent and my stomach rumbles.

He loosens my grip on my stirring spoon and covers the pot with its lid. "What did I do?" I ask.

"Nothing," he replies and my nostrils flare.

"Then why're you acting weird?" I question.

"I want to apologize in advance for what I'm about to say. I know my actions have affected you greatly, and I would appreciate it if you could stay calm," he says.

I nod hesitantly, unable to speak. A shiver rolls down my spine, but he hasn't even said what he has to say. His eyes look between mine and I hold my ground. "Rue," he says my nickname. I force him up against the wall and dig my nails into his chest.

"What the fuck did you just say?" I ask.

"I said Rue!" he answers and removes my hands with ease. The kitchen spins and tingles rack my body. How does- Why; I can't think!

"My name is Dexter Wayne Kinkaid; I am twenty-two year-

I shrug out of his grip and walk into the living room to further process. How could he do this to me? "You're not, Wayne," I state.