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His tone is light, but there's clear interest in it that I'm not sure what to do with. "Okay..."
Then the lights dim, and we all go quiet.
The movie, which I hadn't seen the trailer for, is a gory horror movie, and the story isn't what I would call well-paced. There are a few jump-scares, but they're cheesy, and the plot is mediocre at best. But the company is nice, and by the time the final credits roll, everyone is laughing and joking.
"What did you think?" Callie asks me as we file out the door.
"I didn't expect it to be so … bad."
Her laughter is loud, and she loops her arm through mine. "Me neither. It was awful, but hey, at least the popcorn was good."
We pause just outside of the doors, the others gathering around and talking about grabbing a drink. Swept up in the moment and the rush of actually being part of a friend group, I agree after they assure me that my lack of ID isn't going to be an issue. There's a bar close by—a tiny little place with music playing and a lot of happy chatter. We snag a table, and Callie and her friends go to grab drinks.
"What do you like?" Andrew asks, and when I mention my favorite beer—one that my old high school friend Lacy and I snuck from her mom's refrigerator on occasion—he raises an eyebrow. "A girl with taste, I like it."
"Thanks." The compliment, so freely given, makes me blush.
The others return with a round of beers and shots, and I'm a little overwhelmed by the sheer number.
"You can have whatever you want," Callie assures me. "It's on the guys tonight."
I'm not a huge fan of the shots, but I sip on the beer, and the conversation goes from movies to books to video games. All three of the other artists in the group are very much into comics and the like. They're not my preferred style of art, but the excitement on their faces and in their voices is infectious, and I find myself enjoying the evening a lot more than I thought I would.
When we leave, I've barely finished a single beer and am still stone-cold sober. The same can't be said for the rest of the group, who insist on continuing the night by heading to a different bar—this time with live music. I can feel my social meter running low, though, and decline.
"I'll see you guys," I say.
Callie's hug is warm, and her expression is open and friendly. "It was really nice meeting you. Thanks for coming out."
"No problem."
Daniel gives a little wave. "I'll message you later about those comic references, okay? Thanks for the info."
"Yeah, sure thing."
Andrew, who has been staying close to me the whole night, touches my arm. "I'll walk you back to your car at the theater. The area can get a little rough at night."
"I can walk her," Callie says, her words a little slurred. "Don't worry."
"Nah, it's fine," he tells her.
"You sure?"
He nods, and she shrugs, not looking too concerned. We say our last goodbyes, and then Andrew and I head in the opposite direction. The area is a bit busy but not dangerous. Most of the people we see are either leaving the same bar we were in or headed toward it. I parked behind the theater, which is closed now, so it's pretty quiet back there.
"I don't know if the area is really that dangerous," I tell Andrew. "Cape May seems safe pretty much everywhere."
"I didn't want you driving home anyway." His hand finds the small of my back, and he stops walking.
"I'm not drunk." My pulse kicks up, but not out of excitement. His touch fills me with a strange sort of dread.
"That's not what I mean."
He moves, pushing me gently until my back is against the wall of the movie theater. We're in the shadows, mostly hidden, and when I try to dart out from beneath his arms, he grabs me and pins me back.
"What are you doing?" I push at him, but he's bigger, stronger, and he doesn't budge.
"Come on, I've been watching you all night. You seemed interested."
