I leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I’ve never seen it either.”
“What?” Zadie’s eyes went wide.
Fuck, she was beautiful.
Her hair was piled on top of her head, stray curls framing her face. No makeup. A T-shirt too big for her and sweatpants pooling around her bare feet. The dark circles and tension that had been clouding her expression since I moved in were gone, replaced by something that looked dangerously close to delight.
“Neither of you know what you’re missing. It’s one of the scariest movies ever made. It’s completely awesome.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” I smiled.
Chantel threw her hands in the air. “Fuck d’ostie. I don’t like horror movies. I don’t know why you always try to make me watch them. You know I’m just going to make you turn it off halfway through.”
“You’re such a wimp. And your cousin agrees with me. Don’t you, Caleb?” Zadie’s grin was teasing and easy and made me want to cross the room and kiss it off her face.
“Come on, Chantel.” I pushed off the counter. “You work in a hospital. How can you be afraid of a movie?”
“Fine.” She jabbed a finger at Zadie, then swung it toward me. “But don’t be surprised if I make you both sleep in my room tonight. With the lights on.”
In the living room, Chantel claimed her oversized armchair, which left the couch for me and Zadie. We took opposite ends, an entire cushion of empty space between us. An invisible boundary I was more than ready to cross.
“We should have made more popcorn,” Chantel complained, hugging the enormous bowl to her chest like a security blanket.
“I’m fine.” Zadie grabbed the remote and curled her legs onto the couch, her toes pointed in my direction. “I don’t think I want any.”
A look passed between them. It was quick but loaded, and I added it to the growing list of things I hadn’t figured out about these two.
“Ethan Hawke is in this?” Chantel shoved a handful of popcorn in her mouth. “Why didn’t you say so? You know I like him.”
Zadie’s laugh was free and unbothered. Fuck, I loved that sound. “You won’t like him for much longer.”
Chantel didn’t even last twenty minutes. She proclaimed Sinister was too scary for life, excused herself to the bathroom, and never came back.
“Think she’s okay?” I asked, stretching my arm along the back of the couch. If I shifted two inches to the right, my fingers would graze the back of Zadie’s neck.
I didn’t move. But I thought about it.
“She does this every time. She’s never made it through an entire horror movie with me.”
“Guess Ethan Hawke wasn’t enough.”
“Not even close. He’s brilliant, though. Especially in Boyhood. Have you seen it? He’s one of my favorites. But he’s not a Chris. Chantel would stay for a Chris.”
“A Chris?”
“Evans, Pine, Hemsworth. Especially Hemsworth. He’s her favorite.”
“Who isn’t in love with that guy?”
“I’m not.” Her eyes found mine, holding my gaze for a moment too long to be considered casual. “He’s just too…blond.”
She looked back at the TV. “Longer hair on a man is super sexy, though.”
My hand twitched toward my own hair before I caught myself.
One sentence and my conviction to stay on my side of the couch was in pieces. The question was whether she knew it.
From the way she kept her eyes locked on the screen, her breath just a little too controlled, I was betting she did.