Nothing Like the Movies

Liz

“Oh my God!”

I gasped and turned around, covering my heart with my hands, and there was Wes.

Instead of lying on the bed behind the curtain, he was standing behind me in the doorway of the exam room. His hair was a mess, he was clutching his ribs with his left hand, and Wes Bennett was wearing a baby-blue hospital gown with bright yellow grippy socks on his feet.

I didn’t want to cry again, but seeing him upright, looking so beautifully ridiculous, made me feel like bawling all over again.

Thank you, God.

I pointed to the curtain and stupidly said, “I thought you were in there.”

He slid the door closed behind him, his mouth a hard line as he looked at me and said, “I went down the hall, and when I came back to my room, there you were.”

His face was impossible to read. He didn’t look mad, but he didn’t look happy, either. Which was scary because I’d just bared my soul to him. My heart was pounding, my hands were shaking, and my face was on fire as I wondered what he was thinking. I said, “So you heard, um, what I—”

“I heard everything,” he said, his jaw flexing. “And I call bullshit.”

“What?” I’d been so desperate to tell him I loved him that I hadn’t considered he might not believe me. “Which part are you calling bullshit?”

“Well, come here first,” he said, his voice kind of growly. “Because I’m going to die if I don’t touch you soon.”

I crossed the room in a second, basically running to him on shaky legs as hot brown eyes burned me with their attention. God, I love him. When I stopped in front of him, tilting my head back to look up at him, butterflies went wild in my stomach.

“The dates are total BS, Buxbaum,” he said, putting his big hands on my waist and turning us, maneuvering me so my back was suddenly pressed against the closed door. “It wasn’t prom or the Mrs. Potato Head night.”

“No?” I said, my heart going soft as those dark eyes went playful. Every bit of worry melted away as he looked down at me like he wanted to laugh.

“Oh, hell no.” He grinned, his mouth in that wide, unapologetic smile that felt like home. His voice was low and rumbly, so intimate, as he said, “You fell for me in third grade, the day you punched me in the face. Admit it.”

“The day you told everyone at recess that I had unicorns on my underpants?” I set my palms on his chest, careful to stay above where he’d been hit, and said, “Hardly. I hated you that day.”

“I awoke the passion in you that day,” he teased, wrapping his long fingers around my wrists. “The thin line between love and hate.”

“Is that what that was?” I asked, my smile melting away as he gave me a scorching look.

“That’s what it’s always been,” he said, and then he lowered his mouth.

Dear God, I thought, my knees weak as his lips sipped at mine, his eyes open. Teasing nips, tracing licks—Wes Bennett had been born knowing what he was doing, I swear to God. I watched him, my entire body shaking as his mouth played, and then my eyes wouldn’t stay open any longer.

“Bloom” by Aidan Bissett started playing in my head.

All of the roads led me to you

I flexed my fingers against his chest, and as if that was his signal or something, everything instantly changed. He made a noise, angled his head, and went deep with the kiss, his hungry mouth ferocious. He pinned my hands against the door beside my head as the attack intensified. I raised my face and gave him all of my mouth, rearing up to welcome the onslaught as he leaned into me, sandwiching my body between the hardness of his and the door at my back.

He lifted his head and looked down at me, his dark eyes flashing with intensity. “Say it again.”

I swallowed as his hands pressed mine into the door. I looked into his eyes and said, “I love you.”

“Again,” he growled, his voice quiet, his eyes dark. He leaned his weight more heavily onto his palms and his body, into me, his throat moving around a swallow as he watched me.

“I love you, Wes Bennett,” I confessed, wondering how I’d ever thought it was possible to deny this. “I can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t love you.”

His jaw flexed and unflexed, and then he said—so quietly, “God, please let this be real.”

“It’s real,” I said, pressing a kiss to his chin. “And I’m so sorry. For every moment you had to deal with things alone. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“I’m the one who’s sorry, Lib,” he said, a streak of red on his cheeks as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. His voice barely above a whisper as he rubbed his nose over my cheek. “For every tear you cried because of me.”

I blinked fast and breathed in the closeness of him, trying not to cry any more tears. “It wasn’t you, I don’t think, or me. I think it was just life that made us cry.”

“Dammit,” he said through gritted teeth, closing his eyes and releasing my hands.

“What?” I asked, my eyes searching his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I just,” he bit out, giving his head a shake. “Need a second.”

And just like that, it hit me. My eyes traveled over him, and I saw the sweat on his forehead, the way every muscle in his face was clenched, and the way his left hand was gripping his chest.

“Wes!” I put my hands on his cheeks. “Oh my gosh—are you in pain?”

“You have no idea, Lib,” he said on an exhale, his words a near-groan. “Just give me, like, two minutes and I’ll be ready—”

“Two minutes?” Was he serious? “You need to rest—are you kidding?”

“No,” he whined, biting out the syllable like it was physically painful to speak. “This is our moment, dammit.”

I wanted to laugh, but I forced it down to a smile as I took his arm and carefully led him toward the bed while his breath hissed through his teeth and he pressed both hands against his ribs. I said, “I don’t want our moment to be one where you’re whimpering in pain, Bennett.”

“I’m not whimpering,” he whimpered.

“Did it hurt this much when you were in bed?” I asked.

“No,” he said tightly, like he was trying not to breathe. “It’s better when I lay flat.”

“But you’ve stayed on your feet this entire time to kiss me.” How could I ever love anyone but this stupid, selfless, amazing boy? I pointed and said, “Get in bed.”

“I don’t want to,” he said, taking one hand off his injury to tug on my hair before immediately bringing it back to hold over his ribs. “I’m scared if I stop touching you, you’ll disappear.”

“I won’t,” I said, pulling back the curtain and moving the blanket out of the way. “I can’t. Because you’re the only one who knows our secret language, remember?”

“How could I forget?” he said quietly, looking down at me in a way that made me want to cry again.

So I said, “Well, I mean, you forgot that song was from Folklore, so…”

“So you’re really gonna give me shit when I just almost died?” he said around a laugh, which made him grunt “sonofabitch” before getting back on the bed.

“I don’t think you almost died,” I said under my breath, ecstatic to be us again. I reached down to touch his hair as I fell into a lovesick smile. “Now lie down.”

It took a few minutes of nonstop cursing from Wes for him to finally be lying flat, and I dragged a chair over to the side of the bed so I could hold his hand.

I’m kind of scared to stop touching him, too.

As if reading my mind, he said, “Promise this is real?”

I nodded, so happy that it felt a little painful. “I promise. If we were in a movie, the first notes of the closing song would be starting this very minute.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asked, smiling as he squeezed my hand. “What song would it be, Buxbaum?”

“ ‘One and Only’ by Adele,” I said without missing a beat.

It was so perfect for the scene. The two main characters, finally coming together in ER room number eight—that song was made for this moment.

You’ll never know if you never try

To forget your past and simply be mine

“Good choice,” he said, his eyes squinting around a smile. “Hey, Siri, play ‘One and Only’ by Adele.”

I wasn’t sure how his phone heard that, but from somewhere on the other side of the room, I heard the first few notes begin to play.

“Impressive.”

“I am, aren’t I?” He released my hand, grinning the Wes grin that warmed me from the inside as he lifted his palm to my jaw and cradled my face. “So what would the big closing line be, in our movie?”

It was hard to think of words when he was looking at me like that, when his thumb was stroking over my skin. “Uh—”

“Maybe something about how you’ve always wanted to be Elizabeth Bennet, and I’m the only guy who can give you that?” he asked, tugging on my hair.

“Ooh, that’s good,” I said, my soul happy as I watched him wrap my hair around his fist. “But technically there are other Mr. Bennetts in the world.”

“Not for you,” he said, tugging a little harder. “I’m your one and only.”

“That’s a little heavy-handed, don’t you think?” I teased.

“But perfect, right?”

I looked at that face, at those dark, laughing eyes, and said, “The most perfect.”