Page 118 of Severance

“Is that the one with Annie Lennox’s soundtrack?”

“Yeah.” His eyes land on my face. “The nineties were great. That was what? Eight years before you were born? You missed all the fun.”

This is the most he’s said to me since we met, and I wonder if I’ve hit the jackpot. He likes the nineties. “‘Love Song for a Vampire,’ right?” I say, watching him blow a cloud of smoke into the snowy air. I can feel his gaze on me through the hazy veil that hangs between us.

“Yeah.” He nods. “You read the book?”

“No.”

“Read the book. It’s better than the movie.”

“The book is always better,” I mumble under my breath.

“Movies are tailored to the audience. A bunch of dudes with money who call themselves producers take the source material and chop it to their liking and do what the industry demands. But a book is a time capsule. You can’t change it to match the present era or the expectations of consumers.” Mikah takes the cigarette from his mouth and taps it gently. Tiny flecks of ash fall to the white snow next to his boots.

“You’re still wearing a t-shirt with the movie character.” I grin at him.

“Yeah. I like movies too when they’re done right, but some of those classics are too immersive to be put on screen. This one was decent. It retains the dark, creepy feel of the novel.”

“I believe you.”

“It’s the best horror novel you’ll ever read,” he says, sticking the cigarette back between his lips. His gaze darts to Dakota heading toward us through the snow. It’s coming down hard and fast and I realize that if we don’t leave now, we’re risking being stuck here all night.

“I’m gonna drive her home,” Dakota tells Mikah, ushering me to the passenger side of my Prius. “See you later.”

“Yeah, later,” Mikah mutters, waving at us. A trail of smoke shadows him as he starts walking toward the truck.

We hurry inside and turn on the heater. I’m trembling and wheezing and my lungs feel like they’ve been stuffed with chunks of ice. My phone rattles in my pocket when Dakota’s blowing hot air into my fists that are cramped up from the cold.

I withdraw my hands from his grasp to check who’s calling. “Sorry, it’s my dad. Let me take it.”

“Where are you?” my father yelps, his voice full of panic.

“It’s okay, Dad. Dakota’s already here. It’s just a flat. I’ll see you at home in a bit,” I explain.

“Okay.” There’s a pause and I wait for a snarky comment to drop at any second, but surprisingly, he follows with, “Drive carefully.”

“We will. See you soon. Bye,” I say and end the call.

Dakota looks at me, and his eyes study my face carefully.

“Hey.” He reaches for my hair and pushes a loose strand back. “If something ever happens and neither your dad or I answer, call my brother. Flat tire, dead battery. Whatever.”

“It’s fine,” I counter.

“I’m just saying,” Dakota insists, palming my cheek. “If I’m not around to help, you can call him. He’s not that scary.” The corner of his mouth curls up.

“What do you mean if you’re not around?” Panic crawls over my skin. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.” He shakes his head, smiling. His dimples are driving me mad. “I’m not going anywhere except for playing shows around the world… This is just in case. If something happens. In case of emergency. You can call Mikah. Okay?”

“Okay.” I throw my hands around his neck. “But don’t leave me.” It’s childish to say these things to him, because we both know he’s not leaving me, but the fact that he thinks ahead and plans for the worst gnaws at my gut. It’s frightening. One minute you’re living in the moment and the next, you realize everything ends at some point.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Dakota laughs, wrapping his arms around me. His cheek brushes mine. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

“Why would I?” I whisper into his hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He presses his lips to my temple and we sit like that for a while, relishing each other’s warmth as the snow outside works hard on hiding my car. “You want to come see us rehearse next week? Mikah and I wrote a new song.”

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