Being with Tiffany had always been easy. But maybeeasywas no longer enough.
“We better get inside,” Jason said, stating the obvious, although what he really wanted to do was stand outside in the rain and howl at the sky. He clamped down on those feelings and strode up to the back door of the cabin, holding it open as the others scurried indoors and into the front room.
Tiffany inched to the farthest corner, pulling her clinging wet T-shirt away from her body, lower lip trembling like she was about to cry or burst with indignation.
It was the latter. “Ugh. I escaped a near-drowning just to get drenched again?”
She looked at Jason expectantly. He wasn’t even sure she knewshe was doing it. Her glance said,Help us, Jason. You’re the hero. The golden boy. Do something. Get us out of this mess.Something inside him recoiled in response. He knew she loved him, but he’d realized this past year—as she’d made seemingly offhand comments about weddings and starter homes and children—that there wasn’t a difference between her love and her expectations.
He feared all he had were expectations. No actual loves or desires of his own, which was why he’d never been able to make it work with anyone else. He and Tiffany wereexpectedto be together because they’d been the king and queen of their high school. He wasexpectedto attend his college because he’d accepted the football scholarship his father had pushed him toward.
Jason might as well have been onstage at the Rialto, the audience yellingJock!whenever he appeared. Thrashing aimlessly and dying a slow death.
The irony was that Jason had joined the Jumpscare Society in high school to show people he was more than just a jock.
He’d figured that reuniting with the club would trigger a reset. If he returned to where he’d started from, where he’d first started questioning his path, he could determine if he’d been going in the right direction these past years. One road led to Tiffany. Settling down in a comfortable suburb. Her at home with the kids. Him working at a sports-related job and coaching Little League on weekends. A nice life. His parents’ life. But would he be happy?
And the other road—
“Wait right here,” Patrick said. Jason watched his broad shoulders disappear down the hallway and for once felt a stirring inside him that wasn’t anger. He regretted what he’d said earlier to Patrick. He’d criticized him for living only in the past and future, but he actually envied that. At least Patrick could see his future. He’d been planning for an MBA ever since high school.
Right now, Jason didn’t see anything for himself but darkness.
“Where are we gonna go?” Jen said sarcastically. Her eye makeuphad streaked down her cheeks from the rain. Or maybe it was intentional. It was hard to say, with Jen.
Patrick returned with a stack of towels and flitted around, handing them out and taking the last one for himself. He was the most considerate person Jason had ever known. Granted, Patrick was probably also worried they were going to drip on the house’s vintage ephemera. But that was part of what made him so thoughtful. Reliable Patrick, who despite their differences, had always been more comfortable to be around than any of Jason’s football buddies. Patrick had no expectations other than steady, unassuming friendship. Who knew the white, small-town football hero and the openly gay, preppy, big-city Black guy would get along so famously?
Well, there’d been that heart-stopping moment four years ago in the toolshed, when Jason had thought Patrick was going to kiss him. He’d liked the idea too much. But he was mistaking a solid friendship for something more. He wasn’t even Patrick’s type. In senior year, Patrick had a boyfriend in Fairvale, a brainy premed college freshman who was minoring in philosophy. Even if Jason could compete with that, Patrick would never make a move out of respect for Tiffany.
“Didn’t you know it was gonna rain?” Jen said to Patrick. As if Patrick could control the weather. Though knowing Patrick, Jason wouldn’t be surprised if he’d tried.
Patrick held his hands up in appeasement. “There was a chance of a storm, but I figured it was no big deal. We can still have a good time indoors.”
“The cabin’s a death trap!” Freddy said. “Don’t you remember the last act ofSlasherwhen Jordan’s stuck in here with the killer? We’re rats on a sinking ship!”
Jason groaned inwardly. He didn’t have the energy to rein in Freddy’s paranoia as well as his own internal chaos, but he felt obliged to try. “Guys, relax,” he said. “Remember, there’s seven of usand, if it’s really Carrie’s ex, one of him. Or if it’s aSlashersuperfan, we’ve dealt with superfans before. Hell, wearethe superfans.”
He dried himself with the towel while the others mulled that over. His T-shirt was where he’d left it, draped over one of the boxes of supplies sitting by the door. It looked like Patrick had packed for a zombie apocalypse. Patrick was probably worried about losing the security deposit on the cabin, but did he really think they’d need two fire extinguishers? And a flare gun? Although considering the last time the Jumpscare Society had gotten together at the cabin, Patrick was right to prepare for disaster. Jason could’ve used a flare gun that night, to signal for someone, anyone to take him away from the havoc that had erupted after Freddy had shared his special brownies. Under their influence, Patrick had drunk more than usual and spent half the night puking behind the woodpile, Mikey had wandered into the woods and come back with a dozen wasp stings, and Jason had apparently started making out with Tiffany, which he had no memory of in the morning. She, however, had taken it as a sign they were getting back together. And Carrie—
He didn’t know what Carrie—sweet, shy Carrie, who was like a little sister the way Mikey was like a little brother—had been thinking. The whole situation had been so awkward. Tiffany had convinced him it would blow over if he kept his head down, though in hindsight, he suspected his silence had done more harm than good. Maybe if he’d said something, Carrie wouldn’t have been so mercilessly harassed and shamed. Maybe she wouldn’t have felt she had to leave town.
Many times afterward he’d lain awake at night, wondering if Tiffany had been the one to print out and post that photo everywhere. But he’d kept his suspicions to himself, because they’d started dating again after the incident and it would’ve been shitty to sell out his girlfriend.
Anyway, it was all water under the bridge. Carrie seemed happy and healthy, holding herself with more self-assurance than before.She’d grown a spine during the years away. He was glad for her. Truly. And a little envious that one of them had been able to move on from their typecasting.
Patrick whisked away their damp towels and went to rescue the burgers from the barbecue. Though it seemed everyone had lost their appetite except Freddy, who appeared intent on eating his fears.
“I don’t think Daniel’s dangerous,” Carrie said, although doubt was written clearly on her creased brow.
“Famous last words,” said Mikey, just as a thunderclap sounded outside the cabin. Everyone jumped, even Carrie, which proved she wasn’t convinced Daniel was harmless. She was definitely nervous about something. Or someone. But Jason was confident he and his friends could handle an intense ex-boyfriend.
Freddy whimpered around a mouthful of burger. “We’re in an isolated cabin during a thunderstorm. I don’t like how that movie ends!”
“Oh my fucking God. It’s just rain, you babies.” Jen said what Jason was thinking, although he was too nice to say out loud that his friends were overreacting.
A flash of lightning suddenly brightened the room as if someone had shone a spotlight from outside the windows. The thunder followed, a world-shatteringboomthat detonated right above them. Tiffany squealed. Carrie put a hand to her heaving chest, and even Jen jumped. Jason instinctively grabbed the closest and steadiest thing in the room—which was Patrick’s arm.
“If this were a slasher movie, this is when the power would go out,” Jen said, cackling.
