Page 129 of Hunt for You

ME: But I’m not normal.

SAM NOTPRIEST: I think we already established that neither am I.

ME: Well, okay. Next week?

SAM NOTPRIEST: Whenever you’re free. Just make it an evening that’s not Wednesday.

ME: Sunday? 7pm?

SAM NOTPRIEST: I’ll pick you up. Send me your address.

And even though I knew I shouldn’t, I did.

41. Reality Bites

~ BRIDGET ~

The next day was Saturday and I was exhausted, but by evening I was also sick to death—no pun intended—of the sight of my walls. I should have told Sam tonight, but a Saturday felt like too much pressure, so I’d pushed it out a day. Now I was regretting it, and I needed to move. So I bit the bullet—also no pun intended—and went to the movies by myself.

I was leaving the house for the first time in over twenty-four hours, and it was natural to look over my shoulder, to scan my mirrors, to see if I could find that nondescript sedan somehow in the twilight before night fell for real.

But there was nothing, of course.

It had been over a week since Cain kissed me and I wanted to cry whenever I thought about it, because the rush I’d felt when his lips were on mine and he let me wrap my arms around him…

But then that got me thinking about Sam and how confusingthatwhole thing was and what was I thinking agreeing to go on a date with him?

What was I thinkingwantingto go on a date with him?

It was a good thing I was already at the movie theater when the darkness hit, because if I’d been at home alone I wasn’t sure what I would have done.

I made myself go into the theater and buy a ticket for some stupid romcom that wouldn’t make me sad. I even bought popcorn and candy. Then I trudged down the hall to the screening room, up the stairs to the second-to-last row because I hated feeling like I was trapped against the wall. Then I waited while the ads played, and the trailers. I watched three different couples find seats in the lower rows, and then, just before the movie started a group of people drifted in, chatting and laughing and started up the stairs just as the entire screen went dark and that weird sound thing started that made it feel like you were in a jet or something.

When the screen lit up again the group had all taken seats two rows below me, and I was relieved. I ate a few pieces of popcorn and made myself watch the credits… until I caught that scent and my entire body tensed.

No way… no fucking way.

Then something brushed the side of my neck, like a finger pulling my hair back on that side, but when I snapped my head to look, there was nothing there. The voice, when it came, whispered in the other ear at the same time a heavy hand landed on my shoulder, keeping me pinned in the seat.

“A romcom, Bridget? Really?” he rasped.

My heart trilled and adrenaline flooded my veins. I almost laughed when he reached over my shoulder, grabbed the popcorn bucket, and set it on the seat next to me.

“Don’t turn around. And don’t make a sound,” he whispered in my ear, his breath fluttering against my neck.

I bit my lip, beaming as his hands slipped under my armpits and he lifted me from the seat, dragging me back… and into his lap in the seat behind mine.

I was shameless, already breathing harder, letting myself fall back against him, almost weeping with relief when he slid one hand into my hair and brought my head back against his shoulder, and the other wrapped low, around my stomach.

“Cain—”

“Shhhhh…”

On the screen, the woman was flustered and running around, sweaty and stressed, frantically trying to find the missing bride at a wedding. When his arm around my stomach began to retreat, I reflexively grabbed it, needing to feel the warmth of him, but he only huffed in my ear.

“Keep your eyes and your mouth shut. Just… let me touch you. I need to touch you, Bridget.”

Oh, God, yes.

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