Chapter Eighteen Goldie
Chapter Eighteen
Goldie
August
“Earth to Goldie,” my sister chuckles. “Have you heard anything I’ve said in the last ten minutes?”
Nope.
I look over to where she’s sitting on my couch, grinning as the delicious memory of Noah kissing me all the way from my toes to my lips the night before he left still lingers.
“I could dedicate a whole week to this . . .”
His lips press to my hip bone before French-kissing a path farther north, blazing a decadent trail to my belly button. I draw in a deep breath as his tongue dips just inside before his teeth playfully nip my soft stomach, making me jump.
“I swear to god, I could spend a whole week eating you up, killer . . .”
He keeps his slow, torturous pace to the underside of my breast, then against my sternum until lazing at the hollow of my throat.
“You know what?” he hums. “I’m gonna fuck you until neither of us knows our names.”
His nose runs up and over my chin as he breathes me in, inhaling every molecule of my scent before he kisses the hell out of me.
Leaving me no choice but to believe every word he’s just said.
“Hello!” Evie bellows next to me, pulling me out of my foxy coma.
“What?” I shrug innocently.
“Good grief, Charlie McHobag. You literally just shivered while staring off into the cosmos.” She holds up her hand. “Don’t share. If I had to guess from all that blushing, it’s something I never want to know about. Spare me the trauma.”
I laugh, feeling my cheeks burn as popcorn falls between my sister’s fingers before she shovels more of it into her mouth, then points to the glowing television screen. A scream erupts.
“I said that you were missing the best part.” I look back to the TV as she gets excited.
“Oh, look, we have a runner . . . Why do they always run? The minute they run, everyone watching knows death is imminent.” Evie rolls her eyes.
“See? She’s fallen, and she’s never getting up.
Tragic. Bye-bye, busty camp counselor number two. ”
My hands dart over my face, hiding me from the gruesome blood and guts as I draw my knees up, sitting on the couch.
I’m never sleeping tonight. Why did I let her pick the movie? Even if it’s research for her job, I should have known better. Never let the sister who specializes in gory special effects and can also quote every line from any eighties slasher film be the director of movie night. Ever.
I pull my blanket up under my chin.
“How do you watch this shit and eat? More importantly, why are you forcing me to? I thought we were doing a sleepover, not trauma bonding.”
The sleepover was Noah’s idea. He hated the idea of me being alone in the apartment without him. And I’m glad he mentioned it because I was already planning the same thing.
Evie laughs. “Forcing you? More like gifting you with this opportunity, you big baby. You realize that this film was the first of its kind. It kicked off careers, started a slasher film movement. It’s revolutionary. Plus, it’s almost spooky season.”
“It’s August.”
“And that would be the definition of ‘almost,’” she fires back.
“Would you stop being such a baby? Have you forgotten that I need to immerse myself into the vibes of a slasher camp to really get the essence? This job we landed is literally the peak of my career. And, if I’m being totally honest, this is as much work research as it is pure enjoyment at your expense. ”
I smile back rudely. “What a sweet, supportive sister you are. I hope you get fired.”
She laughs.
According to Evie, last week she scored the job of a lifetime when some guy hired her firm to create a replica of an old, abandoned summer camp and turn it into an interactive scarefest for Halloween.
It sounds awful, like heart attacks and lawsuits awful.
But she hasn’t stopped talking about it, even though I’ve tuned out every gruesome word.
The sound of crunching bones makes my shoulders jump before I dart to my feet, my back to the television.
“Mmmkay, that’s it. I am taking myself to bed and leaving you to geek out on Bloody Bloody Massacre Part Seven Hundred and Forty-Nine in all its revolutionariness .
. . Clearly, you’re a psychopath who works for psychopaths.
” I hold up a hand as she starts to speak.
“I will be locking my door, so the couch is all yours.”
Evie chuckles as she digs her hand back into her bowl, but as I turn to walk away, she talks with a mouthful of popcorn.
“It’s just corn syrup and shitty special effects. Are you really frightened of a little ole scary movie?”
“Yes,” I laugh, looking back at her.
She gives me puppy dog eyes, blinking up adorably. “But I came all the way here to hang out with my big sis.”
God, she’s the worst.
“No way, I’m not falling for that look. No more movie night. I’ll have to watch the Disney Channel to counteract this torture.”
She pushes her bottom lip out, and I’m about two seconds from giving in until the sound of a chainsaw buzzes through the screen. On second thought, I’m out.
I spin around and walk away while waving. I know I’m chicken. Which, if I think about it, is an ironic comparison because if you’ve ever encountered one of those furry, feathery monsters, they’re fearless and evil.
“Come back,” she yells just as popcorn hits my arm. “Loser. You just want to call Noah.”
She’s saying his name teasingly, almost singing it. My hand hangs idle on my bedroom doorknob before I swing around.
“So? Leave me alone. It’ll be a miracle if I sleep now.” I wave at the television. “Because of that garbage, it’s suddenly completely plausible for a man in a ski mask or some devil child to be hiding behind my door . . . with a butcher knife.”
Evie cocks her head before she grins up at me.
“Goldie, come on. Don’t be ridiculous.” As if on cue, a faint chu-chu-chu sounds off in the background. “Nobody’s behind that door. I mean, if anywhere, they’d be standing directly in the entry when you open it.”
“Evie!” My voice bursts from me as I yank my hand from the doorknob like it’s been burned and hustle my way back to the couch. I’m walking so fast that I’m swinging my hips like the sassy senior girlies in the park who still wear leg warmers.
The moment I jump to my safety on the sofa, I steal more of the blanket from her . . . and the damn remote.
“I love you,” she teases, nudging me with her foot.
She’s laughing at me, not with me.
“Well, I hate you. So if you want to win me back, go get me a water from the fridge.”
She stands up, chuckling, as my phone vibrates on the coffee table.
“You’re just never leaving the couch again?”
I nod, seeing it’s a message from Noah. “Pretty much.”
She walks past me before I swipe my phone up.
Damon: Hey, just got back to the hotel. Round one of interviews was amazing.
Dinner was lonely. I miss you.
“Where’s that bag of candy I brought?” Evie yells from the kitchen.
“In the pantry,” I answer as I type back to Noah.
As I glance up, she steps backward into the shadows of the kitchen and says “I’ll be right back” with a laugh.
“Evie. Not funny,” I say, trying to hide my smile before I turn my attention back to Noah.
Me: I miss you more. Especially since I’m being tortured with scary movies.
Damon: Yikes. What asshole thought up a sleepover?
You should have a talk with him.
Me: That’s what I’m saying.
Evie’s rummaging around the pantry saying something to me, but I’m only focused on my phone.
Damon: The good news is the next time I leave my baby’s coming with me.
Me: Yes, she is.
Damon: I’m serious. I won’t go if you don’t go. You’re stuck with me.
The smile on my face is ridiculously big. Typically, the idea of following a guy across the country seems as cursed as getting each other’s names tattooed on various body parts. But we’re Noah and Goldie—the rules don’t apply.
As terrifying as the thought is, my life just doesn’t make sense without him in it. I can’t think of anything that could stand between us.
Me: So, what I hear you saying is that you want me to move to LA.
Damon: Yeah but maybe get your own place so it’s not awkward when I have girls over.
I giggle.
Me: Hilarious. Going back to the slasher film to get some tips and tricks on how to handle my boyfriend.
“You are sooo gone over him—”
My eyes dart up, meeting my sister’s smiling face. She adds, “I swear you couldn’t be more in love if you tried. It’s disgusting, and I’m jealous.”
The vibration in my hand pulls my attention back as she sits back down and puts a water bottle in front of me.
Damon: I love you, killer. PS. tell your sister that if she keeps tormenting you, I’ll call Chase to come over.
I chuckle a little too manically, making her look at me for answers as I type back.
Me: Speaking of the devil . . . he picked up your bike earlier today. Does he know how to ride it?
Damon: Why . . . Do you think I would just give him my motorcycle to impress a girl?
My mouth falls open as my eyes grow wide. I knew it.
Me: Absolutely. Because that’s how a good boyfriend loves his boyfriend. You two are a bromance for the ages.
“What are you two talking about, because the look on your face has me riveted,” Evie says, turning her body to face mine.
I smile at her. “Chase borrowed Noah’s motorcycle earlier today, but he rolled it . . . like walked it back four blocks to his house. And I knew something was up, because his new neighbor is some gorgeous runway model, so I’m thinking he’s using it as a prop.”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course he is. Someone needs to tell Temu Sons of Anarchy the only meat women want his delicate touch on is the rib eye kind.”
I laugh. “The man does make a mean steak.” Hold on. “Wait, how do you know how good his food is?”
She suspiciously turns away from me, her eyes narrowing in on the TV as she takes the remote and flips through new shows before shrugging too quickly. “Because I eat at restaurants.”