Page 18 of Airhead

“Not yet,” he said as Mike lurked an elderly couple’s kitchen.

She leaned her upper body closer so her cheek was pressed against his arm. “What’s happening?”

Forcing his gaze from Mike and his trusty butcher’s knife, to the old lady in her pink robe frozen with fear in her living room as her oblivious husband watched TV, Frank said, “He’s just sort of standing there. Waiting.”

“Oh my God.” Katie turned so her whole face was tucked in against him. “I’m gonna have a heart attack.”

Oh, he was definitely halfway to one himself. The knife attack anticipation had jacked up his pulse, but having Katie hold onto him for dear life kicked it into a whole new gear. All of his senses hyper focused on her. The vanilla-scent of her hair. The way the tips of her fingernails pressed into his bicep as she squeezed it tight. His entire body zeroed in on her, as if he were once again a teenager who’d never even kissed a girl.

What in the fuck is wrong with you, Hartigan?

“You better hold on then,” he said, lowering his voice when the woman in the row ahead of them turned around and glared. “We aren’t even at the hospital yet.”

Katie let out a semi-smothered whimper. “You think he’ll end up there?”

No one went to a slasher movie for the plot twists, so there was no way Mike wasn’t going to end up slow walking the halls of the woefully guarded town hospital.

“That’s where they took Laurie, so of course he’s gonna follow,” he said, in as calm a voice as he could manage considering every last good sense he had was telling him to book it the hell out of the theater. “She’s the real target. Everyone else is just fodder.”

“Why did we come to this?” Katie asked, her question muffled by the fact that she’d buried her face against him.

“Because you said you wanted to watch it,” he said, wincing as the tension on screen ratcheted up.

“No one said you had to come,” she grumbled.

If he’d had any idea of how to spend time with Katie without being the only person willing to go see this blood-fest with her, he totally would have gone in that direction. But he didn’t have any other ideas—shocker—so here he was, about to watch an old couple become human pincushions.

And then a miracle happened. Mike Myers hesitated.

“Wait,” Frank said, whispering the play-by-play on screen. “He’s walking away. The old people live.”

Katie slowly turned her head toward the screen as Mike Myers lumbered out of the house. She let out a sigh of relief, but didn’t stop spider-monkeying herself to his arm.

Yes, more than a few women had said they’d like to climb his six-six self like a tree, but they never actually had. Katie clung to him so hard, it was like she was up for the real thing.

Maybe this hadn’t been the absolute worst idea he’d ever had.

They sat shoulder to shoulder, and leg to leg, as the events unfolded on screen. She occasionally grabbed a handful of popcorn and M&Ms from the bucket he held in his white-knuckle grip. His pulse had to be going faster than the old timers’ when they had to do the fire-department-mandated annual physical fitness tests. But if this was what it took to hang out with Katie, he’d do it. Just like he’d agreed to help plan Fitz’s retirement party. As soon as the lieutenant said Katie was helping, Frank was all in.

“Oh God,” Katie said, loud enough to earn another glare from the woman in front of them. “He made it to the hospital.”

“Told you so,” he said, as quietly as he could while still being audible over the soundtrack of dread pulsing through the speakers.

She scoffed and knocked him in the shoulder—a move made ineffective by the fact that she was still clinging to his arm. “Are you always like this at the movies?”

“Right? Pretty much.” Frank braced himself as Mike approached a nurse who was alone in a locker room. “You’d better cover your eyes.”

Katie didn’t hesitate, which was lucky for her considering the way Mike was slicing and dicing his way through the medical staff at Haddonfield Memorial.

And when Mike finally found Laurie—who turned out to be his little sister—Katie was so tense, Frank threw an arm around her shoulders and tugged her in close. Murder and mayhem continued on screen. (Really, being anywhere near Laurie in this movie was a death sentence.) Katie clung to him, fisting his shirt and squeezing tight in time with each mangled scream.

“Do you want to leave?” he asked.

She shook her head against his chest. “No way.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he said, keeping his arm curled protectively around her as if Mike Meyers was going to walk off the screen and into the theater. “I won’t tell anyone, and half of the people here have their eyes closed. It’s not like anyone will see us walk out.”

Katie turned so she faced the screen again, but stayed nestled against him despite the metal armrest that had to be biting into her side. “I’ve made it this far, thanks to you. I can stick it out. Unless you want to leave...”