God he hated this part. The part that came around every single time you two hung out without fail. Where his heart was beating in his ears, palms were sweaty, and his face was scrunched up into what you knew was his sneer of agitation. Towards what? He’d never tell you.

Tonight was no different. Sitting on the bed of his truck, you focused on the movie playing on the big screen of the drive-in-theater. The entire movie he’d been casting glances at you and each time he’d scrunch up his nose as if annoyed. He hated how the light from the screen made you look so pretty, how despite all the snacks you’d eaten along with the food he’d specifically made for this occasion, you still didn’t have a single crumb on you, and he especially hated how you would turn to him and smile from a funny scene or how you’d purse your lips when you didn’t like something. Your stupid, stupid lips.

He sighed and clicked his tongue, looking back at the screen, “Quit chewing so loud. I can barely hear the movie.” It wasn’t true, he just wanted something to pick at. He shifted on the blankets and pillows littering the truck bed, lying down with his hands behind his head.