Ivy was utterly baffled by his assumption, a frown creasing her smooth forehead. She wasnât angry, not even close.
âWait a sec. Why do you think Iâm mad?â
Balfour cocked his head, his expression one of mock confusion.
âIâm not mad, really,â Ivy said, flashing a wry smile, âI just donât know anyone here, so I feel a bit out of place, thatâs all. But mad? Nope, not me.â
But no matter what she said, Balfour had already whisked her away from the clubhouse, and there was no turning back.
âJust hop in the car.â Balfour swung open the passenger door, ushered her into the backseat, and then slid into the seat opposite hers. The designated driver was already waiting, keys in the ignition, ready to go the moment they were settled.
Ivy wanted to clear the air, but it seemed pointless now, so she chose silence over futile explanations.
Without a word, Balfour directed the driver to head back to the movie theater. Pulling Ivy along, he climbed the stairs at a time.
âTwo tickets, next showing,â Balfour commanded, snapping up tickets for the movie theyâd missed earlier.
As Ivy took the tickets, she winced inwardly at the cost-another twenty bucks down the drain.
âBalfour, this is such a waste,â she muttered.
The first ten bucks had felt like throwing money to the wind, and now here they were again. It wasnât as if the movie was going away, and it would be online eventually. There was no need to spend more money on it, especially since it wasnât exactly Oscar material.
Balfour seemed agitated by her prattling, âAre you watching it or not?â he growled, fixing her with a glare.
Ivy bit her lip, knowing better than to argue, âOf course, Iâm watching.â
If she bailed now, Balfour would bolt, and the tickets would go to waste. She couldnât let that happen.
The movie started at 11:40 p.m., and in the dark expanse of the theater, it was just them, and no one else had come.
In the quiet, the only sounds were the movieâs dialogue and their own breathing.
Nervous and preoccupied, Ivy couldnât focus on the film. She glanced at her phone, and it was 11:50 p.m.
Soon it would be midnight, and Balfourâs birthday would be over. She hadnât known about it beforehand, but now that she did, she couldnât ignore it.
âBalfour,â she whispered, turning to face him, âIâm sorry I didnât know today was your birthday until Giselle started the celebration. I just found out.â
âOK,â Balfour grunted, slowly turning to meet her eyes.
Their gaze locked, and in the dim light of the theater, something flickered between them, charged and intimate.
Feeling his stare, Ivy nervously dropped her gaze, âBalfour, itâs not midnight yet, so itâs still your birthday. I guess itâs not too late to say Happy Birthday.â
Heâd heard those words all day, but none had stirred anything inside him, until now.
Balfourâs eyes softened as he looked at her, âThanks. So, whereâs my gift?â
Ivyâs eyes shot back to his, her brow furrowing in mild distress, âI just found out today, so I didnât get you anything.â