11. Unknown Caller
11
Unknown Caller
In the car, Tori shook my arm with glee. “You got his number.”
“I did. He liiiikes me.” I shimmied my shoulders in victory.
“Of course he does, you’re amazing.” She wrapped herself tighter in her oversized jacket, her big eyes glued to my face. “You like him too, right?”
“Yeah, obviously.” Especially when he talked to me.
“Wow, this is so romantic.” Tori peered at the starry sky and let out a wistful sigh. “You met doing something you love. He feeds you when you’re hungry. He gave you his number. Plus, he made an effort with your family, taking those photos and teasing me about sleeping. He’s really…” She stifled a yawn.
“Something.” I smiled. A quiet buzz rattled in my bones. Eventually, we could be something more than flirting too.
Tori giggled and nudged my arm. “Are you going to call him right away?”
“We’ll see.” Waiting a few hours until he’d get off work wouldn’t kill me.
She shook my arm again. “Ah, Kat, this is so exciting.”
“Yes, yes, but please, no more shaking while I’m driving.” I laughed, pushing her off.
The sleepy suburban streets were pretty quiet on a weekday evening. Only a few headlights swept the sidewalks. One car kinda stuck close. I couldn’t tell how long it’d been following us, only that I’d noticed the faded red paint in my peripheral four turns ago.
What were the odds they lived in this subdivision? I didn’t want to make Tori nervous over nothing.
I pulled off to the side and pointed at an inflatable jack-o-lantern. “Hey, look at this person’s decorations.”
“Um, yeah.” Tori tilted her head. “Did we need to pull over to see them?”
“No.”
The red car slunk past us. Crisis averted.
I sighed. “We never really got to carve pumpkins as kids. I like the looks of them. That’s all,” I said.
Tori covered her yawn. “I understand. Pretty lights. And they have a witch with a cauldron too.”
“Must be one of Jen’s friends,” I joked.
“Kat,” she chided.
“Let’s get you home.”
As I pulled into my parents’ driveway, blinding headlights swung onto our street. I cursed and looked in the rearview mirror.
“What is it?” Tori turned around.
I couldn’t tell if it was same car from earlier. Had some psycho stalked us home?
I shifted gears just as the car pulled up behind us. We were sandwiched in.
My pulse skyrocketed. “What the fuck are they doing?” I squinted but couldn’t see past the headlights. If they didn’t turn around in two seconds…
I reached for the window-smash mallet Mom had gotten me off the shopping channel in case my car ever randomly fell into a river. My fingers curled around the handle, my grip straining my veins. If I had to smash some guy’s skull, I would. But first, I’d blare the horn. Mom’s wrath was enough to scare off most strangers.
Tori frowned. “Kat, I think it’s—”
"Whatever." A woman carrying an opened fast food bag got out the passenger’s side and slammed the door closed. As I leaned over to cover my sister, I realized the person stomping past the passenger’s side was wearing one of Tori’s oversized jackets. It was a devil we both knew.
Our older sister, Jennifer, glared at us, or more specifically, the mallet. “Seriously?”
I shrugged and waved it around. “Figured I should get some use out of it. Did you steal that from Tori’s closet? I thought you only wore mid-brands.” Whatever that meant.
Jennifer rolled her eyes and slurped her extra-large drink. “I’m going inside.”
Tori unbuckled. “I better go too. Good luck with your guy.” She gave me a quick hug, then darted out after our sister before she could lock the door on her.
The mysterious car pulled out and away, though I didn’t get a good look at the guy inside.
Unfortunately, my man was still a stranger in some ways, too. I had no idea what his name was or which information in my phone would be his. After getting home, I joined Jinx in bed and rummaged through my contacts.
I started with 'M for 'Movie Theater Guy' but didn’t find any cheeky entries like that.
Was he a ‘Mike?’ Somehow, I’d collected five of them. I didn’t put last names for half of these people. Were they from class? Work? I needed a hint.
I slouched into my pillows and groaned. Why couldn’t I have kept it in my pants long enough to check Spider-Man’s badge? Chances were, he wasn’t a Mike. It was too casual. He had to be ‘Michael’ at least. But not like the fictional serial killer Michael Myers. What if my movie guy put in a fictional character name as a horror trivia test?
I scrolled through my contacts. Who were all these people? Was I supposed to ask, “Hey, are you the hot manager from the movie theater?” Or send them my spider pics and ask if they wanted photo credit?
I looked up a few of the numbers and tracked down names on social media, but it was late, I was tired, and apparently had met too many people in my life to figure out how to contact my latest obsession.
I sighed and flopped on the bed, much to Jinx’s chagrin. Was it too much to ask for this part to be easy? That guy liked me. I liked him. We had each other’s numbers and yet I still didn’t know when we could hang out again.
I scratched Jinx’s cheeks. “Do you think he’ll text me?”
He blinked.
“You’re right. He’s probably waiting for me to reach out first.” I threw my arm over my face.
Hot Contra had costumes in the morning, but this mystery was going to torture me. I had to keep looking. I scoured career profiles and the theater’s social media. It had to tell me something. Eventually, I passed out on my side.
Somewhere in the depths of my dreams, my phone flashed. The screen read: Unknown Caller. My heart jumped. It had to be him.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Hello, Kat,” he purred.
My blood raced with need. “Where are you?”
“You know where to find me.”
I stumbled amid the low-lit theater aisles of my dreams. None of the numbered armchairs meant anything to me. Nor did the shadowed figures occupying them. I clutched the phone. “I’m not sure, actually.”
“I saved you a seat,” he said.
Did he?
The projector glimmered, highlighting a throne in the first row of raised chairs.
“For the scream queen,” he said.
“I haven’t screamed.”
“Yet.” He chuckled.
What exactly did he have in store for me? Heart pounding, I settled into the comfortable chair. I was by myself in this aisle. The movie blurred into streaks of light in the darkness, almost like a web.
My man approached as little more than a shadow and gleaming eyes. “Dine-in?”
“I didn’t order anything,” I whispered, dropping my phone onto the table.
“I’m the one who’s going to eat.” He eased my knees apart and smirked.
Well, fuck. Eat me up, Spider-Man.
I tilted my head back and scooted down to give him easier access.
“Just one thing.” He knelt between my legs, his voice dripping with dominant energy. “Say my name.”
I froze. Oh my god. I didn’t have it!
His lips grazed my skin.
I moaned and slid closer. Would he accept the moniker Spider-Man? How about a random guess?
He nipped at my thighs. Time was running out.
I wracked my brain for a solution as I wriggled my hips. His grip tightened with every second.
This had to happen! We were so close. Semi-lucid dream training had led up to this moment. At least let me have a fake orgasm.
His breath warmed my core. “Say it.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. He was right there. But before I could say a word, he poked my chest and meowed.
Meowed?!
I jerked awake. My pajamas stuck to me, fused with sweat.
Jinx tentatively poked my cheek and meowed again. Breakfast. Someone else wanted to eat.
I groaned and threw off the covers. “Fine.” Not like my racing heart would allow me to fall back asleep. Nor would I have the answer my dream hottie needed to engage with me.
I padded to the kitchen. Jinx wound between my legs and meowed.
“Shh.” We didn’t want to wake up my roomie, assuming they came home at some point this morning. Night shift was almost as weird as retail.
I poured out Jinx’s kibble and stifled a yawn. “Why are you being so noisy this morning, huh?”
Jinx’s pupils shrunk to pin-pricks. He stared for two full seconds before chowing down. I’d take that as an apology.
I must’ve forgotten to set my alarm last night. Too busy sleuthing. My cat's reliance on our schedule was sometimes an asset.
“Thanks, Jinx.” I scratched the high point of his back, then looked at my phone. No missed calls.
My stomach rumbled.
I wanted to dine in—er, eat with that manager, ASAP. And that required more than a 'taste' of my mystery man.