Page 53 of The Write Track
She looked thrown, and I realized immediately how that sounded.
“I mean, if we’re ever in Boston as a group or something,” I added lamely. That sounded ridiculous, but it was too late to haul the words back into my mouth.
“Sure.” She nodded.
“I can meet your mom,” I supplied, just to make things worse.
“You want to meet my mom?” She cocked her head, puzzlement glinting in her eyes. Was she trying to ascertain if I was messing with her? Preston had done a real number on her self-esteem. I hated him for it.
“Of course,” I answered without hesitation. “She sounds amazing.”
“She is amazing. I have a lot of guilt where she’s concerned.”
“Because Preston said nasty things about her?”
“And I didn’t spend as much time with her as I should have because of Preston’s opinion.” Her face screwed up inannoyance. “Stupid Preston. I want to blame him for everything. That was my fault, though. I’m an adult, and I could have just told him no.”
I chose my words carefully. “People outside of a situation cast a lot of aspersions on what othersshoulddo when being unable to handle problems in their own lives that others could easily push aside.
“Your problems are unique to you, and you shouldn’t let others judge you for what happened,” I continued. “He gaslit you, and he was apparently good at it. You could have done things differently, but that really doesn’t matter. What does matter is where your head is at now.”
“Now I don’t understand how I ever convinced myself I had feelings for him at all,” she admitted ruefully. “When I look at him, I just want to smack him around.”
That made me grin. “I saw they have some of those giant Q-tip things to do battles in the water. They’re for kids, but I bet I can maneuver him into a water day so you can beat the snot out of him.”
“Giant Q-tips?” She was understandably confused.
“I believe they’re actually called jousts, but they always remind me of Q-tips.”
“Oh, you mean those big sticks with the soft ends that kids use to whale on each other?”
“Yes.”
She fell silent for several seconds. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good idea.”
We lapsed into amiable silence. Because I wanted to know her more—a very odd feeling—I couldn’t let the horror movies go. “I believe you can learn a lot about people by their favorite horror movies,” I prodded.
“You want me to tell you my favorite horror movie? Okay, Ghostface.”
I laughed. “No, I want you to reenact them so I can guess.” I released her hand, somewhat reluctantly, and pointed toward the woods. “Stalk me and see if I can guess who you are.”
She pressed her lips together, her eyebrows rising toward her hairline, and my heart skipped a beat. It was the most adorable expression I’d ever seen. “Do you want me to do it first?” I asked.
“I want to play,” she whined. “I just don’t know if I understand the rules.”
“There are no rules.” I moved forward on the trail and stepped behind a large bush.
“What are you doing?” she called out.
“Just wait.” I took a deep breath and then stepped out from behind the bush, spreading my legs slightly and staring like a goon. Anybody with half a brain would have been terrified.
Bella burst out laughing. “Michael Myers,” she said automatically.
I nodded. “See? It’s an easy game.”
“Can I use Michael Myers again if I see something that reminds me of him in a different movie?”
