Page 55 of The Write Track
“No, only Michael kills dogs.”
Her smile was so wide that the moon gleamed off it. “What’s your favorite horror movie of all time?”
It wasn’t a hard question to answer. “It’s not original,” I warned her.
“Mine isn’t either. There’s a reason certain horror movies are classics.”
“Yeah.” I licked my lips, tried not to think of licking something else, and forced myself to focus. She was suddenly the biggest distraction at the campground. “The Shining.”
Her face went theatrically animated. “Mine too!” She pointed at her chest. “Do you know what most people say to me when I say that’s my favorite?”
“That Stephen King famously hates the movie, so it shouldn’t count.”
“Yes!” She pumped her fist in something akin to victory. “Do you know what I say?”
“That it’s a great movie with the best ambiance in all of horror land.”
“Also a yes.” She skipped closer. “What do you think aboutDr. Sleep?”
Ah, the official sequel toThe Shiningthat melded King’s book with the Kubrick movie to tug on nostalgia. “That it got a raw deal and it’s actually really good.”
“Thank you.” She threw her hands up as if exulting the moon, and the move did nothing to calm my libido. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to roll around in the grass with her. Well, as long as we didn’t risk running into snakes. My hormones were suddenly raging, but if one thing could dampen that effect, it was a snake. I did not like creepy crawlies.
On impulse, I wrapped my arm around her waist. I didn’t so much hug her as tickle her, all for an excuse to touch her under the guise of playing our horror game. I kept at it because otherwise I would have to explain my actions, and I didn’t want to do that.
“What’s your favorite bad horror movie?” I asked.
She squirmed and gasped as my fingers found her rib cage. She felt unbelievably delicate in my arms, as if a stiff breeze could hurt her. She’d told me her story though, at least the important bits. I knew she was tough. But that didn’t stop me from wanting to stand as her shield.
If Jason Voorhees was heading in our direction, I would totally serve as a distraction so she could get away, something I always found stupid in horror movies. If Jason was going to get both of them, why not sacrifice the girl so the more athletic man could get away? Here, in this moment, with Bella laughing and squirming against my pounding heart, I would die a thousand times to give her that shot.
“Ghost Ship,” she blurted, causing me to release her and stand up straight.
I was suspicious as I stared down at her. “With Karl Urban?”
“Yes.” She gave me a wary look. “Why? Are you about to tell me that it’s a terrible movie?”
“You already know it’s a terrible movie.”
“But?” she pushed.
“But it has one of the best openings of any horror movie ever.”
“It really does,” she agreed.
“It also has great ambiance.”
“It really does.” Her grin grew. “It just doesn’t quite hold together the way it should.”
“No, but it has a banging soundtrack, and I watch it at least once a year.”
The way she looked at me, as if I’d just stepped in front of a bullet for her, made me irrationally angry. Not at her, of course, but at stupid Preston. He’d ruined this beautiful woman’s self-esteem. He’d made her doubt everything. She was trying so hard to get back what she’d lost, but his presence, the fear he’d instilled in her, was making it a slow process.
I wanted to make him pay for everything he was doing to her.
“What’s your guilty-pleasure horror movie?” she asked.
I forced myself to think on it and not go with my knee-jerk reaction.
