Page 17 of Wrong Number, Right Unicorn

“Nah, it’s fine. Too early to sleep.” He munched on a cookie, and the crumbs spilled over his chest.

“Can’t take you anywhere.” I brushed them into my hand and sat there, holding them, not wanting to get up and go into the kitchen. Errol took my hand and upended the crumbs onto the glass-topped coffee table.

“I’ll trash them later.”

He didn’t let go of me, and I worried my palm was sweaty. But if it was, Errol didn’t say anything.

“Wanna watch TV?” he asked.

I would have preferred a kiss, but we were together and still holding hands, so maybe that was enough for now.

He turned on the TV and scrolled through the programs until we both agreed on a horror movie. Why not scare ourselves shitlessafter our first date, first home-cooked meal, and hopefully, first kiss.

Errol’s hand was clasped in mine, but when something scary happened on screen, he’d squeeze my fingers and yelp. I asked if he wanted to change the channel, but he insisted he liked horror.

During the commercial break, he said he questioned Grams about the number she gave him—my number—and she told him it was a number from her memory.

I was intrigued, wondering who had that landline number before me. But whoever it was, I thanked them for leading me to Errol because it was a sign. Convinced he would be in my life, I hung on tight and put my arm around him when he covered his eyes with his hands.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Errol had his hands over his eyes, but he splayed his fingers so he could see the screen. “Seems less creepy somehow.”

I handed him a cushion so he could hide behind it, but he tossed it aside, saying he didn’t know what was going on.

“Isn’t that the point?”

“No, I love being scared.” He waited until the ads came on and said, “You don’t seem bothered by the blood and gore and guys popping out from behind the curtains.”

I was, but not at fake-ass movies. I was worried I’d be alone for the rest of my life. Besides, when you’ve witnessed a wolf shifter fighting to the death, with a fox shifter or a bear shifter ripping out another shifter’s throat, interactions with humans paled in comparison.

“Of course I am, but my fears have more to do with people I care about being hurt.” I shook my fist at the TV. “Not actors reciting lines.”

“Roller coasters?”

My unicorn wasn’t a fan of heights, but I couldn’t say that. “Never been on one.”

Errol responded that our next date would be at an amusement park. I had to get out of that unless we sat on the carousel. Whatever, I’d figure it out beforehand or pretend I was sick.

Errol muted the TV. “I’m going to ask rapid-fire questions. No thinking or pondering, just answers.”

Is he going to ask about me?My unicorn couldn’t fathom that line of questioning.

No, this is a combination of something fun and informative.

“Ready?”

I nodded.

“Favorite color?”

“Pink.”

Yay!My unicorn was silver and pink.

“Pineapple on pizza?”

Was this a trick question? No matter how I answered, would Errol be horrified?

---