It didn't seem like Jake and Mike had made any progress towards friendship in my absence. They were several yards apart, facing away from each other as they waited for me; Mike's expression was sullen, though Jacob's was cheerful as always.
"Ang is sick," I told them glumly. "She and Ben aren't coming."
"I guess the flu is making another round. Austin and Conner were out today, too. Maybe we should do this another time," Mike suggested.
Before I could agree, Jacob spoke.
"I'm still up for it. But if you'd rather to stay behind, Mike—"
"No, I'm coming," Mike interrupted. "I was just thinking of Angela and Ben. Let's go." He started toward his Suburban.
"Hey, do you mind if Jacob drives?" I asked. "I told him he could—he just finished his car. He built it from scratch, all by himself," I bragged, proud as a PTA mom with a student on the principal's list.
"Fine," Mike snapped.
"All right, then," Jacob said, as if that settled everything. He seemed more comfortable than anyone else.
Mike climbed in the backseat of the Rabbit with a disgusted expression.
Jacob was his normal sunny self, chattering away until I'd all but forgotten Mike sulking silently in the back.
And then Mike changed his strategy. He leaned forward, resting his chin on the shoulder of my seat; his cheek almost touched mine. I shifted away, turning my back toward the window.
"Doesn't the radio work in this thing?" Mike asked with a hint of petulance, interrupting Jacob mid-sentence.
"Yes," Jacob answered. "But Bella doesn't like music."
I stared at Jacob, surprised. I'd never told him that.
"Bella?" Mike asked, annoyed.
"He's right," I mumbled, still looking at Jacob's serene profile.
"How can you not like music?" Mike demanded.
I shrugged. "I don't know. It just irritates me."
"Hmph." Mike leaned away.
When we got to the theater, Jacob handed me a ten-dollar bill.
"What's this?" I objected.
"I'm not old enough to get into this one," he reminded me.
I laughed out loud. "So much for relative ages. Is Billy going to kill me if I sneak you in?"
"No. I told him you were planning to corrupt my youthful innocence."
I snickered, and Mike quickened his pace to keep up with us.
I almost wished that Mike had decided to bow out. He was still sullen—not much of an addition to the party. But I didn't want to end up on a date alone with Jacob, either. That wouldn't help anything.
The movie was exactly what it professed to be. In just the opening credits, four people got blown up and one got beheaded. The girl in front of me put her hands over her eyes and turned her face into her date's chest. He patted her shoulder, and winced occasionally, too. Mike didn't look like he was watching. His face was stiff as he glared toward the fringe of curtain above the screen.
I settled in to endure the two hours, watching the colors and the movement on the screen rather than seeing the shapes of people and cars and houses. But then Jacob started sniggering.
"What?" I whispered.
"Oh, c'mon!" he hissed back. "The blood squirted twenty feet out of that guy. How fake can you get?"
He chuckled again, as a flagpole speared another man into a concrete wall.
After that, I really watched the show, laughing with him as the mayhem got more and more ridiculous. How was I ever going to fight the blurring lines in our relationship when I enjoyed being with him so much?
Both Jacob and Mike had claimed the armrests on either side of me. Both of their hands rested lightly, palms up, in an unnatural looking position. Like steel bear traps, open and ready. Jacob was in the habit of taking my hand whenever the opportunity presented itself, but here in the darkened movie theater, with Mike watching, it would have a different significance—and I was sure he knew that. I couldn't believe that Mike was thinking the same thing, but his hand was placed exactly like Jacob's.
I folded my arms tightly across my chest and hoped that both their hands fell asleep.
Mike gave up first. About halfway through the movie, he pulled his arm back, and leaned forward to put his head in his hands. At first I thought he was reacting to something on the screen, but then he moaned.
"Mike, are you okay?" I whispered.
The couple in front of us turned to look at him as he groaned again.
I could see the sheen of sweat across his face in the light from the screen.