𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋

fifteen

Dinner lasts about an hour, maybe a few minutes over, because the movie doesn't start for another 20 minutes and they had been sitting there just talking for about 10. Ryder questions Peter on why they don't receive a bill, but the boy merely waves a hand, saying 'it's been covered by a friend.'

A lot of people around them come and go, getting a few unknowing glances from disapproving adults based on their rather comfy appearance. However, neither teen cares, too caught up in each other and their stupid stories to even pay attention. Her hands are locked with his across the table, sipping occasionally on her Shirley Temple while listening to him recite a funny story that happened with Ned a little while back, the girl intrigued and laughing when the best part is told, earning some glances from neighboring tables.

She rubs her thumb against his palm, making him calm down as he tells her stories. She loves hearing Peter talk, granted she's the one who's always rambling on about the environment or about funny stories or people she's encountered. Peter's always been a good listener, but she loves it when he rambles on about something so irrelevant, because she loves the way his eyes light up, and they way his words are cut off by short giggles and snickers when he tells the remainder of the stories. She loves the way his eyes crinkle by the creases when he smiles, laughs, speaks. She almost raises her hand to trace it with her fingers, but keeps her unoccupied hand gripped on her drink instead.

Walking out of the restaurant hand in hand, the pair are drunk off laughter, Peter barely being able to utter out a single word from laughing too hard, leaning onto her for support and using his unoccupied hand to clutch his chest. It's the kind of laughter that doesn't even come out of your mouth, the silent one that doesn't look like much, but it feels as if your insides are being clutched by the hands of God himself. Ryder laughs at him laughing at himself, supporting his body weight when he leans into her after trying to tell another story about Ned.

Ryder and Peter walk outside and are met with the cold, brisk air, but the one thing that had not been there when they walked in is the big, ebony, shiny truck parked right in front of them, a man in a nice navy blue suit holding the keys out to Peter, the boy calming down from his laughter to happily accept the keys, thanking the man gratefully and opening the passenger door for Ryder, still coming down from his fit of giggles.

Ryder furrows her brows and thanks the man as well, even if she doesn't know him, and obliges to getting in the truck, Peter shutting her door and then running around the climb into the driver's seat. She's not stupid. She sees the plethora of blankets and pillows neatly placed in the back of the truck, and the cooler and set of snacks in the backseat. Ryder nearly melts, knowing how much she loves drive ins, but also feeling guilty about how much this must have costed the poor kid.

As he puts the truck into drive and silently drives in the direction of the drive in, Ryder faces him with a pointed look, placing her hand over his that rests on the shift gear.

"You didn't have to do all this for me, Peter. This must have costed-"

Peter cuts her off, "Not a penny. My friend upstate really likes to spoil me. Plus, when I told him about you, he insisted on paying." He gives her a side glance, a small smile on his lips. "Plus, you're worth all of this, and more."

"Ugh, don't flatter me, Parker," she teases, "you know about my inflated ego."

"Hey! I was trying to be romantic!"

Ryder rolls her eyes playfully, removing his hand from the gear shift and placing the back of his hand to her plump, dampened lips, and then manually placing his hand to rest on her thigh, her warm hand resting on top of his cool one. He tries to stay neutral, but the girl sees him fidget in his seat, and her nerves get the best of her.