lavender. (mace)

five

The next night, Mamrie pulls up to the movie theater at eight. All day, her truck has smelled like Helbig; forest and cotton. Despite Grace not being there since morning, running off to plan the current night's date when she awoke.

When she exits her ride, she sees that the theater, unlike the diner, is bustling with people. There's a crowd of teens laughing, cussing their way through the doors of the cinema. There are parents with their no doubt annoying children that cling to their legs.

Then, beyond the noisy crowd, she spots her.

Tight leather jacket and pants (ones she'd make fun of if it didn't look so amazing on her body in that moment) and two tickets in hand. Grace.

She holds her purse close to her side as she rushes up to the blonde.

"Hi." Grace grins. Mamrie stares at her lips and thinks about the kiss the previous night, and smiles as well.

"Hey." She shyly responds.

"You aren't late this time!" She exclaims, faux surprised.

"Miracle, isn't it?" She plays along.

"I must admit, didn't think you'd show up for a second date."

"Really?"

"Yup. In fact, I'm amazed you even showed to the first."

"Well, I'm a woman of her word."

"Refreshing." She hands Mamrie a movie ticket. It's for some romantic comedy, the ones that the redhead can't stand. But, if it's with Grace, it's worth it. It's always worth it.

They step into the cinema and see it's even busier inside. Once the two manage to get through the crowd, they find themselves at the snack counter.

Behind it is a young man, with sandy hair and blue eyes. He's wearing the uniform and his name tag reads 'John.'

"How can I help you?" He asks. John's voice is deep and loud. It doesn't match his skinny, almost pre-pubescent appearance.

Grace asks Mamrie what she wants and she responds. Whatever her order was, she forgets it as soon as her lips close, she's focusing on the man.

He's staring at Grace, hyper-focused. He seems like one of those guys that starts sweating the minute a woman grazes his hand. And by God, is Mamrie upset.

He's flirty with her, smiling extra wide at her while he hands her their food. He insists that it's on the house, and that 'pretty girls' like her shouldn't have to pay for anything.

* * *

"Are you okay?" Grace asks, holding Mamrie's stuff for her while she awkwardly shifts into the back aisle seat.

"Yeah, fine, why?" She avoids eye contact.

"You're quiet." She explains, sitting next to her. "You seem upset."

"I'm fine, Grace." She says. It's obvious to everyone she's not. She's crossing her arms and huffing out angry breaths.

There's a pause before Grace turns to her, setting down their stuff.

"Is it about the guy at the counter?"

"I don't know, is it?" She turns and sees Grace, who looks genuinely concerned. She has her hand on her arm gently and she's close.

"I'm sorry." She whimpers quietly. "We can leave if you really want." She tugs a bit on Mamrie's sleeve, as if to reassure her. "You don't have to stay if you're upset."

And Mamrie sees how sincere this girl is. She's concerned for her, something that hasn't been happening to Mamrie for a while now. And look at her! Getting mad about a high schooler with acne-face.

"I'm sorry." She deflates, placing a hand on Grace's hand. "I'm okay, really."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She nods and smiles. Good God, Grace looks fantastic tonight. It's a completely different line of thought but she likes it anyway.

Grace smells so clean and wonderful, still like that linen aroma, and if she could bury herself in the younger girl and live in that smell she would. She loves it.

Grace grins and pecks her lips. It's caring and gentle, her hand resting onto the redhead's shoulder. She caresses it with her thumb and Mamrie leans in.

The kiss is like the previous night's but more passionate. It's warm and this time Grace sucks on her bottom lip, and Mamrie has a second of panic where she's sure she's left a bruise. But they continue and she remembers that she doesn't care.

Because she still smells like a wild forest, and this time she doesn't taste like milkshakes; it's like sweethearts and cola, with pop rocks bubbling up in her stomach.

Grace slowly continues to caress Mamrie's arm and she's soft. Her skin is warm and feels like silk. God, she loves her kisses. They're so soft and full of passion, and whenever they pull away she wants more.

The entire theater disappears. It's just them in that moment, feeling each other and feeling their lips collide ever so gently.

They pull away and breath, and the credits are rolling. Grace looks at Mamrie and she's fixing her hair, avoiding eye contact, crossing and uncrossing her legs as so to distract herself. Grace's cheeks are flushed and burning, but the grin in between them continues to beam.

That night, they rush outside holding hands, leaving behind the food stuffed under their seats. They both giggle as they fumble to get into Mamrie's truck, and she drives them to a motel.

They spend the night with each other, and Mamrie must admit that it's the best she's felt since the breakup. They don't fall asleep until three a.m., Mamrie curling up to Grace as they both lay exhausted.

"Goodnight." Mamrie mumbles.

"'Night, love." Grace messily responds. She secures her arm around Mamrie and holds her close, as the two of them drift off.

[A/N: Ahh, over 130 reads! Thank you so much!]