Her head tilts as she looks up at me and I can’t help myself. I glance down at her mouth and suddenly it’s difficult to breathe.
“It’s fine,” she answers, though I swear she wanted to say yes. It’s probably for the best that she didn’t.
“I’ll wait with you, then.”
I expect her to protest but instead, she just nods and I stay close to her as we walk out of the parking garage and head to the front of the arena. I’m greeted by the scents of downtown LA: gasoline, stale piss, and the disgusting, mouth-watering smell of those street sausages they always sell after games.
“One of my favorite horror scenes happens in a parking garage.” She shoots me aglance.
“What scene?”
“Have you seenIt Follows?”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s a newer cult classic. In the film, there’s this monster that effectively functions as an STI. It only stalks and murders one person at a time, and the only way to stay alive is if you fuck someone else and pass the STI along. The monster will change course and try to kill them instead. Anyway, the film starts with the main character tied up in a parking garage, and her piece of shit boyfriend telling her he’s been being hunted by this monster and now because they had sex, it’s her problem.”
“It’s a good thing real STIs don’t work like that,” I say.
“Well the film is highly metaphorical.”
I get the sense she could talk about this for hours. More terrifying than the STI monster, to me, is the fact that I would gladly listen.
“In Sweden, if people get a disease they go to the doctor,” I say blandly.
She scoffs. “People can’t afford that here. You’d better watch out around those puck bunnies. Never know if they’re insured,” she replies without looking at me.
I stop behind her. “Freddie.”
She stops and turns, and I’m all too aware of the closeness of our bodies. Of the disappointed shadow in her eyes. “What?”
“I don’t fuck puck bunnies—at least, I haven’t in a long time. I’m not sleeping with anyone.”
It’s one of the most vulnerable things I’ve ever said to anyone. Laying down in front of the Zamboni would probably be more comfortable, but for some reason, I just need her to know. I can’t stand the thought of her having this misinformed idea of me where I sleep with everybody, and care about no one.
“Oh,” she frowns. “I just assumed—”
“Because of Halloween?”
She hesitates a minute before nodding.
“I hate Halloween. I was in bed by ten thirty.”
She blinks slowly at me, andfan i helvete,I have no reason to be telling her all of this.
“You hate Halloween? That’s my favorite holiday,” she balks, an attempt at levity. I’m not having it. “Mattias—” she says when I don’t reply, taking a step toward me. My fingers twitch, my hand almost reaching for her, but then she glances over my shoulder, looking disappointed. “Looks like my bus is here. See you tomorrow?”
I hesitate, then nod. A brush off, as I should expect. What I don’t expect is the way she darts forward and gives me a quick squeeze around the middle. My pulse skyrockets.
How much beer did she drink at the game?
“Thanks again for putting that asshole in his place. Get home safe,” she says, releasing me. Then she hurries up the bus steps, and disappears as they close behind her. I watch as the bus pulls away, my eyes lingering until it’s out of sight.
I’m a complete and utter fool.
Chapter 39
Freddie
