Page 3 of The Teddy Bear's Prize

Jeff parksthe car at the curb and pulls the teddy bear out of the back seat before I can stop him. Part of me was hoping I could use the bear as an excuse to slip into the house with little fanfare or as a bear-shaped shield to avoid the lingering promise of a goodnight kiss.

After the sub-par date, I was looking forward to pouring myself a glass of wine and watching one of my comfort horror movies before bed.

It’s a tradition I started in high school with my best friend, Erika, after we decided we were too cool to go trick-or-treating. It started with parent-approved late 90s teen horror, then quickly spiraled to the classics, Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the Thirteenth before we were factoring in b-movies and for a year in college we watched mainly foreign language films.

“I could carry him,” I gesture as I climb out of the car, shifting my purse to my side.

“Him?” Jeff laughs, hoisting the bear higher, “How do you figure it’s a ‘him’?”

I have no reasonable explanation to assume the gender of the teddy bear, other than it fits. Like someone whispered the truth in my ear while I was carrying him around the carnival.

“You’re right,” I play it off, waiting for Jeff to walk around the car and accompany me to the house.

“Did you give him a name, too?”

I glare at him sidelong, rummaging around in mypurse for the rubber covering of my house key, “No, that’d be silly.”

The rental is a tiny two-bedroom house built in the late 80s with a cookie-cutter floor plan that is flipped and reflected down the entire street. I picked it because my landlord jumped onto the neutral trend from ten years ago and painted the outside a beautiful cool mid-toned gray with black trim that makes the bright turquoise statement door resemble a glowing portal to another dimension.

“This thing sure is heavy,” Jeff shifts the bear to the other arm as I unlock the door, “I can’t believe you carried it around the fairgrounds all by yourself.”

“Let me take him from you,” I open the door and reach for the bear, but Jeff ignores me and walks right into my house.

“Just tell me where you want it to go.”

I close the door behind me and toss my purse on the hall table, “The couch is fine.”

The bear looks right at home, his gray fur complimenting the dark chocolate leather couch and my little charcoal throw pillows. I’m glad I didn’t second-guess my choice.

“Thanks.” I fold my arms over my chest, watching Jeff take in my living room.

Similar neutral gray paint covers the walls with white trim instead of the black from the exterior. I’ve kept the theme going with a set of monotone curtains and dark wood bookshelves on the far side of the wall with a matching console underneath my 55” flat screen. I think it gives the space some warmth. Okay, I've been watching too many home renovation shows.

“It’s early,” he looks down at his watch, “Just past 9:30. The night is still young.”

“Yeah, I was probably going to just put on a movie and then go to bed.” I say, really hoping that he takes the hint.

Jeff crosses the room, running his fingertips over the spines of my books before picking up the little ceramic raven my mom bought me last Halloween, “Oh really? What movie?” He looks over his shoulder.

I don’t have an answer, so I panic, scanning my blu-ray collection and picking out the first one that calls to me.

“Scream.” I wince the moment my answer leaves my mouth, knowing how past partners have criticized my taste in movies. Namely, that I prefer camp over “real horror”.

“You’re going to watch Scream before bed?” He quirks a brow, returning the raven to her perch on my shelf.

“It’s a Halloween tradition.”

“The movie is pretty watered down as far as slasher flicks go, but I have to admit it’s a classic.”

I’m all too ready to launch into my defense of the series as a staple in the late 90s and 00s teen horror revival when his words finally hit me.

“You like it?” I stand up a little straighter.

“Yeah, I mean, I haven’t seen it in like ten years, so I’m not sure it holds up.”

It’s been pretty lonely here the last few months and maybe I’m just missing the comfort of having a roommate, but I am legitimately considering letting Jeff stay a little longer. I really hope I don’t regret it.

If I asked Erika, she would tell me I was being too hard on him. There’s just so much conflicting dating advice. Butterflies are good, butterflies are a red flag. You should be the one to approach men, but be careful that you don’t move into your masculine space. I know most of it isbullshit, but these days, it feels like everyone is operating with their own set of rules and I can’t catch up.

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