Page 25 of A Dangerous Kind of Love

I step closer to her.

“I didn’t,” I say calmly.

She narrows her eyes.

I lean down slightly, lowering my voice.

“I mean, I assumed.”

She shoves me again. I catch her wrist this time and pull her toward me. Her body presses against my chest, and she lets out a quiet breath that she clearly wasn’t planning on.

“What if,” I murmur, “instead of shoving me, you give in and let me put my arms around you?”

She swallows and looks up at me. Her wrist is trapped gently between us, and her pulse is racing so hard I can feel it through my fingers. I look down at it.

“Katie,” I say.

Her breath catches again.

“You’re not very good at pretending you don’t like me.”

“Let’s just go watch the movie,” she says.

I nod and step back, but I don’t let go of her hand. My fingers stay threaded through hers as I guide her toward the theater doors. She doesn’t pull away.

I steer us toward the hallway that leads to the screens and push open the door with my shoulder. The theater is dim already, previews flashing across the screen. I find seats near the back, dead center. Best view in the place. I let her sit first. My hand finally slips from hers long enough for her to settle into the seat, but the moment I drop beside her, our fingers find each other again.

Katie stares straight ahead at the screen, her posture a little too straight. I lean back in my seat, watching the light from the screen flicker across her face. The movie starts, and within the first five minutes it’s already a bloodbath. Classic summer camp slasher setup. A group of teenagers, a dark forest, and the world’s worst decision-making skills.

Katie’s social media told me she likes horror movies. Which is interesting because right now she has a hand covering her eyes. Not completely, but enough that she can peek through her fingers. I bite the inside of my cheek.

The killer appears behind a girl brushing her teeth in a cabin bathroom. Katie gasps and grabs my arm, clutching my bicep as if she’s about to climb me like a tree. A second later she buries her face into my shoulder. Her fingers tighten in my sleeve.

“I thought you enjoyed horror movies,” I murmur.

“I do,” she whispers into my arm.

Another scream erupts from the screen. Her grip tightens. I look down at the top of her head and grin.

In the span of ninety minutes, Katie screams at least five times. Every single one of them was loud enough that I’m pretty sure half the theater knows exactly where we’re sitting. She hasn’t let go of my arm once. Her fingers stay wrapped around my bicep, and honestly, I’m not convinced she actually saw half the movie. Most of it she spent hiding in my shirt.

When the credits roll, Katie finally lets go of my arm. My bicep might actually be numb. We file out with the rest of the theater, and as we step into the aisle, I reach my hand back without looking. Her fingers slide into mine. By the time we reach the lobby, she looks up at me, completely serious.

“That was really good.”

I lose it. I bend over laughing, one hand braced on my knee as the sound bursts out of me.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“What?” she asks, completely serious.

“You didn’t even watch most of it.”

“Whatever. Yes, I did.”

She stares at me, mimicking a petulant child who refuses to admit she’s wrong. It’s adorable.

We’re out on the street now, the night air cool after the crowded theater. I can’t help myself. I hook a hand around her waist and pull her against me.