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The camera flickered, changing focus. I yelped and covered my face with my hands as it panned to the little girl, walking eerily behind her unsuspecting father—or slithering, more like, the way her pale limbs stretched and ghosted right above cracked concrete.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Come here.”
He reached out and dragged me close, until my shoulder rested against his chest. Then, he pressed a kiss to the top of my head, and the arm snaked around my waist tightened, a warm anchor in the darkness.
Pride flared inside me and I opened my mouth to growl I didn’t need his comfort, but then, the little girl’s voice spilled out eerily from the speakers, as if she were whispering straight in our ears. My bravery died on my tongue, replaced by a whimper, a split-second before I buried my face in his chest.
So much for being a strong, independent woman.
His other hand inched up to draw soothing lines up and down my back, a hypnotic motion bleeding the tension out of my shoulders with every stroke.
“Shhh, it’s okay, baby. She’s not real,” he murmured close to my ear, the low timbre of his voice wrapping around me like a blanket.
Even so, I spent most of the movie watching out of the corner of my eye, through my fingers, like I’d warned him I would.
His scent clung to me, seeping into my clothes—sandalwood, pine, and something spicy and warm underneath—and my traitorous body loosened with every inhale.
The story spun into a twisted and dark one, peppered with jump scares and disturbing undercurrents that would haunt me later.
By the end, I’d abandoned all pretence and buried my face in his chest.
Chapter thirty
Mia
“You survived,” he muttered on my forehead as we straightened up and my knees turned all liquid.
“Barely.” I clutched at his sweater and buried my face in his chest.
People filed past us, excitedly discussing the movie, but my feet had rooted to the spot.
He pulled back a little, enough to scan my face.
I wish he’d mocked me. The concern swimming in his eyes was infinitely less palatable.
“That was… horrible,” I whispered, as if the rolling credits could hear me and take offence.
My bottom lip wouldn’t stop trembling as my gaze whipped around frantically, as if expecting the ghost to have lingered.
“Yeah, it was.”
He gave my waist a gentle squeeze. Then, he arched in and peppered little kisses all over my face, each one bringing back warmth in my body.
The screening room had emptied when my face finally unglued from his sweater. My wobbly knees tentatively supported me as we walked out, with his arm still draped around my waist, giving me little squeezes whenever I shuddered.
I barely registered him binning the empty packaging.
The next thing I knew, the warmth of the car enveloped me as he started the heat on full blast and the seat warmed under me. The purr of the engine anchored us to the real world, a reminder we weren’t stuck in a haunted playground. Even so, the story clung to me like a phantom I couldn’t shake.
“You’re still so pale…”
His eyes roved over me with the same note of concern that buckled my knees for an entirely different reason.
Stop it.
“If you’re such a big baby, why’d you insist on horror?”
The humour softened me more than I wanted to admit.
