Page 11 of Escape

She nods, mouth full, and waves the pizza at me like it’s an official seal of approval.

“So,” she says once she’s swallowed, “what’s the plan?”

“Only the finest cinematic experience,” I say, holding up the remote. “Dodgeball.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Wow. You really know how to woo a girl.”

“Who said anything about wooing?” I reply, smirking as I hit play.

She laughs, the sound soft and real, and settles back against the cushions.

The movie is ridiculous, and, as always, we’re both laughing more than we probably should. Mel’s got this habit of pointing out things I’ve never noticed before, like the way Ben Stiller’s moustache twitches just slightly when he delivers certain lines.

“Look at it!” she says, practically wheezing. “It’s like it has its own personality.”

“Maybe it’s method acting,” I suggest, tossing a piece of popcorn at her.

She catches it mid-air and pops it into her mouth with a triumphant grin. “You’re just jealous of his commitment to the role.”

“Obviously,” I deadpan. “I’ve always wanted a villainous moustache.”

“You’d look ridiculous,” she says, throwing a piece of popcorn back at me.

“You meandashing,” I correct, dodging the throw with exaggerated flair.

“Sure, let’s go with that,” she replies in a fit of giggles.

The movie rolls on, but the back-and-forth between us barely slows. Every now and then, she leans a little too close, her shoulder brushing mine as she grabs for the popcorn bowl. At one point, her foot nudges against my leg, and neither of us is willing to break the contact.

By the time the credits roll, we’re sprawled out on the mattress, the cushions scattered and the popcorn mostly gone.

“Alright,” she says, stretching her arms over her head, her sweatshirt riding up just slightly. “I’ll give it to you. This was a bloody good idea.”

“High praise,” I reply, mock-bowing from my reclined position.

She laughs, reaching over to flick my forehead lightly. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, too late,” I say, leaning back with a satisfied grin.

She grabs a blanket and tosses it over both of us, the weight of it settling across our legs. For a moment, the room is quiet, the warmth between us almost tangible.

“Thanks, Owen,” she says curling up in my arms.

I glance at her, but she’s staring at the ceiling, her face unreadable.

“Anytime,” I reply, and I mean it to. I would host a thousand pizza parties if it made her laugh as much as this one did.

She shifts slightly, her head resting closer to mine, and I let myself relax into the quiet, the scent of her shampoo lingering faintly in the air.

Maybe this isn’t everything I want, but for tonight, it’s enough.

Chapter 5

Mel

The kettle clicks offjust as I walk into the kitchen, the faint smell of coffee mingling with the scent of burnt toast. Owen’s already there, leaning against the counter with a piece of toast in one hand and his phone in the other, scrolling with that annoyingly relaxed morning energy he has.

“Morning,” I mumble, heading for the cupboard to grab a mug.

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