22 Zara #2
For a while, we just watch the movie. Jamie Lee Curtis runs across the screen. Michael Myers creeps around corners. I throw candy at the TV every time someone makes a terrible decision.
“Why are they always alone?” I groan. “No one in horror movies has friends.”
Cass hums. “They die faster that way.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“It’s efficient.”
I shift closer, throwing my leg over his.
Human seatbelt status activated.
His hand tightens automatically on my hip.
Good. Still normal.
Mostly.
But after a few minutes I notice something.
His thumb is moving slowly against my side.
Back and forth. Back and forth. Not really paying attention, like it’s muscle memory.
I glance up to see his eyes are on the screen.
Then a second later… they flick down to me.
Just for a second. Then back to the movie.
Hmm.
I pretend not to notice. Two minutes later… there it is again. That look. It’s like he’s studying me. I pause with a piece of candy halfway to my mouth.
“What?”
His gaze snaps back to the TV. “What what?”
“You keep looking at me.”
“You’re in my line of sight.”
“Am not.”
“Are too. It’s geometry.”
I stare at him. “You are not bringing math into this.”
His mouth twitches. “I’m just saying.”
“You’re weird.”
“You knew that.”
I pop the candy in my mouth and lean back into his side. But now I’m paying attention to him and not just the movie. And sure enough, two minutes later… there it is again. That look. It’s focused, like he’s trying to remember this. Like he thinks it’s going to fade soon.
I sit up a little and look at him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
His eyes flick to me immediately, like he got caught doing something he didn’t mean to do. “I’m fine.”
I narrow my eyes. “That sounded like a lie.”
He snorts quietly. “Everything sounds like a lie to you.”
“That’s because you’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Mm-hmm.”
I lean back against the headboard and study him openly now. Cass shifts slightly beside me, dragging a hand through his hair like he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with his hands.
Suspicious much?
“Zae,” he mutters, that low warning tone slipping into his voice.
“What?” I ask innocently, batting my lashes his way.
“You’re staring.”
“You started it.” I throw a shrug in for good measure.
His eyebrow lifts. “I was watching the movie.”
“Bullshit.”
He exhales through his nose, but I catch the way his mouth twitches like he almost smiled.
I tilt my head. “I know you, Cass.”
“I would hope so.”
“And you watching me every two minutes like you’re trying to memorize my face is not normal Cass behavior.”
That seems to strike a cord. His expression stills, caught. For a second, he doesn’t say anything. The movie keeps playing behind us, Michael Myers breathing heavily through that stupid mask while Cass stares at the blanket like it might offer him legal counsel.
I nudge his leg with mine.
“Seriously,” I murmur. “What’s going on in that scary brain of yours?”
He shakes his head slightly. “Nothing.”
“Cass.”
“It’s nothing.”
“That’s the second time you’ve used that answer tonight,” I point out. “It’s losing credibility.”
His jaw flexes. For a moment, I think he’s going to shut down completely. Instead, he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s trying to physically unknot something under the skin.
“I’m just thinking,” he mutters.
“That sounds dangerous.”
“It usually is.”
I soften a little. “About what?”
He glances back at me then, and there’s something heavy behind his eyes that makes my chest tighten. “You.”
Well.
That’s not ominous at all.
“What about me?” I ask carefully.
He studies my face again. It’s weirdly intense, and a little unsettling.
“You do that a lot now,” I say quietly.
“Do what?”
“That.” I gesture vaguely at his face. “The staring.”
His shoulders tense slightly. I shift closer before he can pull away again, resting my hand on his arm.
“Hey,” I murmur. “You’re allowed to talk to me.”
He huffs out a quiet breath. “I know.”
“Good.”
Silence settles between us again. Then he mutters, almost under his breath, “I almost hurt you.”
I sigh softly and slide closer, hooking my arm around his. “You didn’t.”
“I almost did.”
“But you didn’t.”
He stares at the floor. His hands flex once, like he’s remembering the moment too clearly.
“That shouldn’t have happened.”
“It did,” I say gently. “And we handled it.”
“You handled it.”
I lean forward and grab his face before he can spiral too far down that road.
“Cass.”
His eyes snap back to mine.
“You’re not some ticking time bomb,” I tell him firmly.
“You don’t know that,” he argues, and there’s too much vulnerability in his tone for me to feel okay.
“I do, actually.”
“How?”
“Because I’ve known you for four years.”
That shuts him up.
“You got angry,” I continue. “You didn’t hit me. You didn’t hurt me. You listened when I pulled you back.”
His hands slide up my arms, gripping lightly. “That shouldn’t have been your job.”
“Maybe not,” I admit. “But guess what? Relationships are messy.”
His mouth twitches faintly. “You calling this a relationship now?”
“Oh my God,” I groan. “Don’t start.”
He exhales a quiet laugh.
Progress.
I lean forward and press my forehead against his. “You don’t have to solve everything tonight.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. Then his arms slide around my waist. Still careful, but closer. Eventually, he leans down and kisses me slowly, gently. I kiss him back just as softly.
When we finally settle again, my head resting against his shoulder, the movie has moved on to another scene entirely. Michael Myers is still being creepy. Cass’ hand rests on my hip, and every once in a while, I still catch him looking at me. That same thoughtful expression lingering in his eyes.
“Why are you staring again?” I mumble sleepily.
His thumb brushes over my side. “Just making sure you’re okay.”
I shake my head against his shoulder. “You’re ridiculous. You know, you always check on me because of my mental health. Let me do the same for you, Okay?”
“If you say so.”
But even as he pulls me closer and tucks the blanket around us, something in the way he’s holding me feels… different. Like he’s bracing for something. Like he’s trying to memorize how this feels. And for the first time all night, that thought makes my stomach twist.