This could also be because once the kids realized who Quinton was, they came back like three or four times, until they worked up the nerve to ask for his autograph. And because Quinton was as into Halloween as they were, he gave them candy every single time.
I’m pretty sure that even the kids were calling him the king of Halloween by the end of the night too.
“I know.” He grabs the remote before settling next to me on the couch. “I thought I was going overboard with the candy, but I’m glad I did.”
He still has candy left over, but it was getting close. Thankfully, lights-off time came before he was cleaned out . . . and I still had my choice of candy.
“What movie do you want to watch?” I ask as he starts scrolling on his fancy smart TV.
He tosses me the remote. “Doesn’t matter to me, you can pick.”
Now, I can plan an entire event without help. What colors? No problem. Plan a menu? I got it handled. But when it comes to choosing what to watch? That’s a different story.
There are just too many options and I always fall back to the same handful of shows.
“Ummm . . .” I hand him back the remote. “It’s probably for the best if you pick. We’ll be here all night if it’s up to me.”
“That’d be fine with me,” he says before he starts clicking his way through movie options.
And lucky for me, he does this with his eyes trained on the TV because my jaw is just dangling helplessly while I openly stare at him.
That’d be fine with me? What the fuck does that even mean?!
I’m sure he just means that he’d be happy not to have to drive me back home or something meaningless like that. But another part of me, the part of me staring at his perfect profile with his parted, full lips and the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he chews his candy, is hoping it means he wants me to spend the night because he wants to be with me.
“What about Get Out?” He startles me out of my thoughts and I snap my head around, hoping I wasn’t caught staring at him.
“Um, yeah,” I clear my throat and stare at the screen without really seeing. “That sounds good.”
Now, if I was in my right state of mind, one where I wasn’t just caught being a total freaking creep—again!—I would’ve remembered that I haven’t seen Get Out because I’m a total scaredy-cat and I’m going to have to figure out a way to live my life, alone, in my condo again once this night is over.
Instead, I was too busy staring at his throat to have any cohesive thoughts float through my brain. Self-preservation is something I really need to get.
“Um, Elle?” Quinton asks not long after the movie starts. “Are you alright?”
I don’t know just how long the movie has been playing, but I know we’re getting to the part where shit’s about to break loose. And being the person that I am, I’m not only covering my eyes . . . but plugging my ears as well.
“Yup! Totally fine.” I give him a quick thumbs-up before putting my hand back over my face.
“You know we can watch something else.” He wraps his long fingers around mine and pulls my hand from my face. And even though I’m sure someone is about to jump out from somewhere on the screen, all of my fear seems to fade away as all of my attention goes to the way he lets his hand linger on mine. “I just thought you said you watched scary movies.”
We’ve touched before, but this feels different. Intimate even. After the night we had, I think it’s almost impossible for me not to imagine him in a different light. One where he wasn’t just a good friend trying to cheer me up, but an attentive boyfriend who has made it his job to be there for me.
Obviously, I know that’s not the case and no matter how much I want it to be true, I won’t make the mistake of crossing the line between us again.
“‘Watch’ might not have been the best word.” I pull my hand out of his, even though it’s the last thing I want to do. “More like I hide under the covers and scream every time the music gets scary or there’s a creepy noise.”
He shakes his head and even in the darkness of his living room, I can see him fighting back a smile. And I really do appreciate the effort.
“Then how about we start a new tradition where we pick something you can actually enjoy.” He exits out of Get Out and searches until Hocus Pocus comes on the screen. “I’ve never watched it, but everyone is always talking about it on Facebook, so I figure it’s a safe choice.”
“I love this movie!” I almost clap, but have just enough restraint not to. I don’t, however, have the restraint not to yell, “Sisssstaaasss! ’Tis Time!”
His head jerks back and he looks at me like I’ve grown another head. “What the fuck was that?”
“That was my Sanderson sisters impression.” I shimmy my shoulders. “It was a perfect fucking impression and you’re going to be mad impressed when you see. But hold on!” Now that I’m not in danger of peeing my pants because I’m scared and can actually enjoy the movie, I need refreshments. I stand up, enjoying looking down at him for once. “I’m getting snacks. What do you want?”
I start to climb over his long, outstretched legs, but because I’m still a little drunk off fear and my legs fell asleep a little bit thanks to how tense I was, I trip over his feet like a total klutz.
“Shit!” My screech is higher and louder than I would ever like to hear again as I reach out for the couch. I’ve already embarrassed myself
