9. Scary Movie
Selene
New-cowboy: You were great at the book club!
Me: So glad to hear it. You have no idea how important your approval is to me.
New-cowboy: You're being sarcastic, aren't you?
New-cowboy: Yeah, you are... I can see your eye roll from here.
New-cowboy: But you know what else I see? The corner of your mouth tugging upward
Ding-dong.
I stare at the light wood door in front of me and seriously evaluate my options.
Option one: leave the bottle of Pinot Noir I'm holding on the welcome mat, turn on my heel, and flee into the night.
Option two: clutch the bottle tight, take it home, and drink the whole thing by myself straight from the neck until I forget the last few days ever happened.
I'm about to lean heavily toward option two, but before my muscles can even coordinate a retreat, the door swings open with overwhelming energy.
Carolina beams a massive, bright smile at me. She's also holding a bottle of wine by the neck, but my attention is aggressively hijacked by another detail. The microscopic t-shirt she's wearing rides up well above her belly button when she stretches her arm to open the door wider.
I stare at her boobs for a second too long. Then again... it is physically impossible not to stare. In bright pink block letters right across her chest, it reads: "Go ahead, stare at my boobs." And the white cotton shirt is so thin and sheer that I can clearly make out her metal nipple piercings.
"I'm so glad you decided to come after all!" Carolina exclaims, either oblivious to or entirely proud of my obvious visual tilt.
She's that kind of girl: energetic, sunny, proudly brazen, and deliciously chaotic. She's part of the book club dedicated to my novels.
"Thanks for inviting me," I say, clutching my bottle like a protective shield, already feeling hopelessly out of my depth.
In truth, I absolutely did not want to come.
I am not a social person. My natural habitat requires silence, darkness, and fictional characters.
But the girls insisted that since we're all signed up for the Haunted Spurs casting, we absolutely had to do a sort of "initiation rite" with a horror movie night.
The word no had formed crystal clear in my head, but I still didn’t say it out loud. Their smiles tricked me. So I nodded yes before I even realized what was happening.
At least horror is my favorite movie genre.
Carolina's apartment instantly throws me off.
It's incredibly minimal and modern. Honestly?
I expected it to be eccentric, saturated in shocking pink, feathers, and glitter.
Or maybe opulent and pretentious, considering she's a princess.
Or rather... an ex-princess. She and her twin sister gave up the throne in favor of their younger brother, Andrew.
When I step into the living room, I am hit by a wave of absurd chaos.
There are ceramic bowls overflowing with chips scattered everywhere.
Fluffy cream-colored pillows have been tossed haphazardly onto the rug in front of a massive TV, and sitting right in the center of the coffee table are bags of popcorn...
the classic ones, retro red-and-white striped paper bags like you'd get at the movies. I love them.
The girls huddled on the couch are squealing, bouncing, and collectively cheering over something playing on one of their phones.
"Alright... let me do introductions," Carolina cuts in, trying to make me feel welcome. "You already know Emma."
She points to the blonde girl. Her perfect, straight hair falls over one shoulder. She's wearing a light green, spaghetti-strap dress covered in tiny flowers, toned down by a warm, reassuring beige cardigan. Emma raises a hand, giving me a sweet, timid wave.
"Then there's Indya..." Carolina continues, pointing to a girl in jeans and a white t-shirt, with a long red braid. "...my best friend and, more importantly, will be my partner doing the reality show with me."
Indya steps forward, pulling me into a warm, unexpected hug.
I hold my breath. I bite my tongue hard so I don't stiffen and hiss that I am clinically allergic to unsolicited physical contact. From this inappropriately close distance, I notice a beautiful dusting of freckles bridging her nose and cheeks.
"And lastly, this is Audrey," Carolina finishes, pointing to a tall, statuesque girl with long, straight, incredibly glossy brown hair. "She's not doing Haunted Spurs, but she'll be my roommate for a while... so, contractually, she's a nice person."
Audrey rolls her eyes with a laugh at the joke, crunching on a chip.
"Hey guys... nice to meet you," I murmur, my voice coming out a little low and tight, still clutching my bottle of Pinot.
Then, as if my brain finally decided to reconnect to reality and basic social norms, I remember I brought the Pinot Noir specifically for the host. I extend a stiff arm and hand it to her.
"Oh, thank you!" Carolina trills, grabbing it with her usual exuberance. "We'll pop this open as soon as we finish the one we already started!"
She turns to the open kitchen counter and starts pouring the dark red wine into glass goblets.
“Speaking of which…” Carolina adds, handing me a glass. "Girls, what the hell were you giggling about a second ago? I could hear you from the hallway."
I take the glass and take a generous sip. I love red wine.
"Oh yeah, sorry, you all need to see this!" Indya exclaims.
She grabs her phone from the coffee table and turns it toward us. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Emma has suddenly turned beet red.
I lean toward the screen and squint.
It's a post from the official Elm Hollow Gazette feed, curated by Francis, as usual.
STOLEN SHOT IN ELM HOLLOW: TEMPERATURES RISING (AND WE'RE NOT TALKING ABOUT THE WEATHER)
The Elm Hollow Gazette newsroom can confirm a sudden heatwave hitting the ranches south of town.
The culprits? Two specific denim-clad emergencies.
Fire Chief Levi and our beloved Cowboy Ron Willers were spotted in the middle of a grueling session of agricultural labor. Both shirtless, dripping with sweat, and busy hauling bales of hay.
Witnesses report biceps in scandalous condition, abs not authorized by the town council, and looks of intense concentration capable of short-circuiting more than a few passing citizens.
Traffic on the adjacent dirt road has mysteriously increased by 300%.
The newsroom advises caution, blasting your AC, and staying hydrated to avoid a nervous breakdown.
[Below it, a crystal-clear photo.]
Fuck.
I nearly choke on the wine. I take a massive gulp, trying to swallow down the surge of lust that just completely flooded me.
"Well..." Carolina comments, tapping her ring-studded finger against the rim of her glass with a wicked smile.
"The guys around here are definitely not sexy at all, huh?"
Then she whips around to face the blonde.
"Emma, honey, when are you going to make your move on the fireman? That guy is so obviously into you."
Emma turns even redder, if physically possible, mumbling something incomprehensible into the rim of her glass.
Then, Carolina turns to me. Her eyes are sparkling. "By the way, Selene... the other cowboy in the photo is yours! I mean, the one you're doing the reality show with. Are you guys a thing?" she winks.
Oh, dammit.
Now I'm actually choking on my wine. The air gets trapped in my lungs and I start coughing convulsively, doubling over, my eyes watering.
"Carol!" Indya scolds her, her eyes wide. She drops her phone and rushes to the open kitchen, pouring some water into a glass before handing it to me.
I take a sip of water, trying to scrape together some semblance of dignity as I wipe the corner of my mouth.
"Oh! I'm taking that reaction as a massive yessss!" Carolina cheers, bouncing on her toes.
"NO!" I croak, my voice still raspy from the coughing fit. I straighten up, shooting her a withering glare. "We are absolutely not a thing."
"No?" Emma chimes in mischievously. "And yet... I'm pretty sure I saw him at your book club."
I narrow my eyes, aiming my serial-killer glare right at the blonde. Emma, whose side are you on? Et tu, Brute?
"Yeah," I shoot back with fake innocence, "exactly like I'm pretty sure I saw Levi there, too."
It's a low blow, but a perfect one. Emma's eyes go wide as she gasps for air, while Indya and Carolina burst into a booming laugh that fills the living room.
And, without me being able to stop or control it, a genuine, spontaneous smile slips out, and I find myself laughing with them.
Am I... having fun?
Two hours, a lot of popcorn, and almost three bottles of wine later, Carolina's living room is plunged into darkness, illuminated only by the cold, flickering flashes from the TV screen.
We're all scattered on the floor, sinking into the fluffy pillows.
On screen, the classic, inevitable storm is raging over an isolated cabin in the woods.
Lightning splits the sky, and the massive figure of the killer suddenly appears behind the glass door, his face hidden by a blank, white plastic mask.
"Ah!"
Emma lets out a high-pitched shriek, grabbing a pillow and pressing it to her face, sending a handful of popcorn flying across the rug.
Audrey, lying comfortably on her stomach with her chin resting in her hands, bursts out laughing. "Emma, sweetie," she teases gently, "can you please explain to me why the hell you signed up for a haunted house casting if you jump out of your skin at the sound of the wind?"
Emma slowly lowers the pillow, her cheeks glowing red in the dim light. "I-I got ambushed by Mrs. Lacey," she stammers, pulling her cardigan tighter around her shoulders.
"Well, you'll be well protected by... someone whose name starts with LE and ends with VI," Indya singsongs.
We all giggle.
But my smile is short-lived. My attention is sucked back to the screen. The killer is moving.
And I... I don't feel even a shred of terror.
I stare at that fucking mask, and like some twisted Pavlovian reflex, my brain superimposes another figure over the movie.
A room bathed in red LED light. A broad chest. The contracting muscles of Ron Willers' abs as he pulls the mask off, that V-line disappearing into his jeans...