But something felt off. Maybe it was the way the sky looked—too dark, too heavy. Or maybe it was the way my stomach twisted when I thought about Mom, how she’d been sick lately, how she barely ate at dinner, how Dad kept telling me not to worry. Or maybe it was the fact that I hadn’t seen Blake yet. I knew he was here. He had taken Dad’s truck, which was parked somewhere in this lot, undoubtedly with Jamal beside him.

God, what was wrong with me?

I sighed, shifting again.

Ignore it. Watch the movie.

Just let it be one night where you don’t⁠—

But my eyes had already started scanning.

The lot was packed, a chaotic maze of cars and people wrapped in blankets, huddled in truck beds, or leaning out of windows. Kids darted between the cars in cheap plastic masks, while groups of teenagers clustered near the concession stand.

It took me longer than I wanted to admit, but eventually, I found him. Two rows back. Blake was leaning against the hood of the truck, arms crossed, his gray hoodie zipped halfway up, his face unreadable in the flickering glow of the screen. Jamal was beside him, eating from a bag of candy, probably saying something stupid because Blake huffed a small laugh and shook his head.

I looked away quickly, like that would help. Like that would stop the ache, the way my fingers curled in my lap, like maybe if I gripped the fabric of his hoodie tight enough, I’d stop missing him.

Tiffany, oblivious to my emotional crisis, shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth. “So, how long until you think someone starts screaming?”

“What?”

She nodded toward the screen. “You know. There’s always that one girl who freaks out like she’s actually being murdered.”

I smirked. “Maybe it’ll be you.”

She scoffed. “Please. I was born for horror movies.”

My eyes kept flicking to Blake’s truck.

God, this was stupid.

I was stupid.

I chewed my bottom lip before turning to Tiffany. “Hey, Tiff. Can you do me a favor?”

She raised a brow, sipping from her Diet Coke. “Depends. Does it involve me standing in line for popcorn again?”

“No. Um…” I glanced toward the truck, then back at her. “Can you keep Jamal company?”

Tiffany’s brows shot up so fast they nearly hit her hairline. “Excuse me?”

“Ugh, come on.” I pouted. “Just go over and say hi.”

“Wait.” Tiffany narrowed her eyes. “Beverly...”

“What?”

She folded her arms, watching me like she was trying to solve a puzzle. “Are you sure this has nothing to do with the fact that you’re trying to get rid of me so you can go sit in Blake’s truck?”

Damn it.

“Look. I love you, Bev. But no. I won’t go over there.”