5. Popcorn Bouquet
5
Popcorn Bouquet
I couldn’t sit there in silence while he stood waiting for me, not even if it was mostly because he needed me to leave so his team could clean.
I staggered down the steps and rasped, “I wanted to see if there was anything post-credits.”
“There is.” He offered me a bag of popcorn.
My stomach flipped as if he’d offered me a bouquet of salty roses. “You didn’t have to do that,” I said.
“Of course I did. You’re one of our preferred customers.” He shook the bag, glistening kernels rolling over one another amid the tempting smell of warm butter.
My fingers brushed the treated paper. Was this the freebie offered for the movie pass? “Oh, I didn’t sign up for the loyalty membership,” I said.
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Perhaps the free popcorn will convince you to join us.”
“Maybe.” I laughed, happy to accept a snack on my empty stomach.
His gaze fixed on my mouth as I brought a kernel to my lips. The intensity made my insides quiver. Why was he so invested in crafting the audience experience? He’d definitely been the one to prank me with the spider plush, right? But that had been harmless.
I eyed the popcorn. “Is this covered in ghost pepper flakes? Or discarded from another guest?” I joked.
“No. I’m not the kind of villain who causes stomach ailments,” he said easily.
“What kind are you?” I grinned.
He arched his eyebrow. “Perhaps I make people question their sanity.”
Well, he’d worked his charms on me. I’d basically accepted candy from a stranger after one conversation.
“Have a piece.” I shook the bag at him. “Join the madness.” And prove you’re not messing with me, I wanted to say.
“I’m working,” he replied dully. It should’ve meant no, but he plucked a kernel from the top, then ran his tongue along the crevices.
My eyes nearly bugged out of my head. “Why are you licking it?”
“I like to savor things.” He sucked on the kernel.
Even with the popcorn’s irregular, bulbous body, my mind raced with the idea of him sucking on various parts of me. A tingle ran down my spine and settled between my legs, jolting my insides as his fingers slipped past his thin, perfect lips.
Fuck me.
My thighs flexed. Most guys sexualized me, not themselves, when flirting. But he wasn’t looking at my chest or short skirt. His errant gaze lingered on the rolling credits.
He popped his now-empty fingers free and flexed them like a magician showing he had nothing hidden up his sleeves. “It’s coming.”
“What?” I rasped. Did he mean me?
“The post-credits scene.” His eyes glimmered in the low light.
“Oh, right.” I shook my head to clear it of depraved fantasies and turned to the screen, resting my ass on the railing. Eating popcorn helped distract me from the urge to lick a stripe up the manager’s throat just so he’d keep talking pseudo-dirty. Why was I so damned horny after a horror movie?
On-screen, people in the supermarket whispered about the final girl being dangerous. That didn’t stop a bagger from checking her out in more ways than one. After she got home, someone rang her doorbell. It was the bagger.
“You forgot these,” he said, offering her a tote and a flirty smile.
“Thanks.” She hesitated, then opened the door wider. “Would you like to come in?”
He tugged his pants by the belt loops and let out an enthusiastic, “Yeah.”
She grinned, all teeth as a spider scurried across her kitchen window in the background.
The end.
I laughed. “That’s it?”
“What did you expect?” The manager scooped more popcorn from my bag. Kinda cheeky, but I admired his confidence.
The lights boosted to full power, and I squinted against the glare. “I don’t know. A reference to baby spiders? Although I guess that one in the window might’ve been from the main spider. Ooh, or maybe the final girl got pregnant.”
“There’s a good chance the bag boy had it in him," he said.
“Or the hunter.” I shrugged.
He narrowed his gaze at me and grabbed a broom. “You seem very child-focused.”
I scoffed and followed him. “Only for a sequel premise. But also, black widows can only make babies if they have protein from eating the male before, well, you know.” We’d been talking for five seconds, and I was already referencing sex.
He raised his eyebrows. “They mate like a praying mantis?”
“Praying mantises eat after copulating. Widows, um…”
“They’re necrophiliacs?” He almost sounded impressed with my knowledge.
Well, I was full of creepy fun facts. “I guess the male is still kind of alive? Like a chicken with its head cut off. It probably lasts for a few minutes—and that’s better than most guys.”
He laughed and hung his head, his bangs swooping to cover his face. “How unfortunate.”
“Yes, well…” I didn’t want to blatantly ask about his endurance. “Speaking of minutes, I should probably get back to work,” I said.
He nodded and swept a nearby aisle. “Enjoy your car snack.”
“I will. Oh, except I didn’t drive. I walked. I work in the mall. Hot Contra in case you couldn’t tell.” I gestured to my ensemble.
His lip twitched up as his gaze swept over my outfit. “You’re very on-brand.”
“Yeah, well, I’m also a manager. Gotta represent.” Oh my gosh, was I trying to sound cool for this random man? “Anyway, thanks for lunch. Have a great day.” Raising the popcorn bag to salute him, I pivoted hard on my heel and power-walked away. He didn’t ask for my number. Or where I worked. Why had I given that away? He already had my name. If this was more than a flirty way to pass the time, he’d show he was interested.
The scrape of the brush combined with the rising incline of the wall divide reminded me of last night: the spider limb that had stretched up as part of a prank, and whatever had brushed against my leg. I stopped in my tracks. “Yesterday, was that you with the spider gag?”
He shrugged and slow-blinked like a cat.
That was a yes. “Where is it?” I asked.
“I have to keep some secrets.” Smirking, he scraped the floor. “Come back and see us again soon, Miss Silver.”
An unspoken implication wormed into my brain; Next time, we’d get better acquainted.