Page 60 of Body and Soul

I shrugged. “Do you like scary movies?”

Bryce lit up. “Hell yeah! You a horror fan, too?”

I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Used to watch them all the time as a kid, when I could sneak them past my parents. Guess I never outgrew the thrill.”

Bryce’s expression darkened for a second, gone so fast I thought I’d imagined it. “Strict religious upbringing, huh?” His voice stayed light, but the understanding there made my chest ache.

I looked away, picking at a loose thread on the cushion. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Bryce bumped his knee against mine. “Well, you're in good company. This system is basically a poster child for religious trauma. We should start a club.”

A surprised laugh escaped me. “Right. We could get t-shirts that say: I joined a cult, and all I got was this lousy trauma and a bunch of weird kinks.”

Bryce snickered. “Dibs on making the shirts.” He scrolled through horror options, humming. “Ooh,Night of the Necro-Dentist. Sounds terrible—or great. I’m in.”

I laughed. “Why not? I’m always down for cheesy B-movie action.”

Bryce started the movie and tossed the remote aside, settling back. As the credits rolled, I slouched into the cushions, getting comfortable. The movie was as delightfully terrible as the title suggested. It was about a mad dentist using necromancy to reanimate his patients' corpses and force them to be his dental hygienists for all eternity. The acting was wooden, the effects laughable, but Bryce and I were both riveted.

Twenty minutes in, the doorbell rang. Bryce paused the movie, hopping up to grab the pizza. He returned, the smell of melted cheese and seasoned meat filling the room.

“Prepare your tastebuds,” Bryce said, setting the pizza on the coffee table. “This is gonna rock your world.”

I sat up straighter, my stomach rumbling in anticipation. Bryce flipped open the lid, revealing a pizza positively loaded with pepperoni, sausage, bacon, ham, and what looked like meatballs, all nestled in a blanket of gooey mozzarella. It was a carnivore's wet dream.

“I think I'm in love,” I declared, reaching for a slice.

Bryce grabbed a slice and bit in, moaning. “Oh yeah, that’s the stuff.”

We demolished the pizza, washing it down with Coke. By the timeNight of the Necro-Dentistended, I was stuffed, buzzed on sugar and cheesy horror goodness.

Bryce stretched, his shirt lifting to reveal a toned stomach. “That was epic. Terrible, but epic. The floss garrote? Iconic.”

I snickered, feeling loose and relaxed for the first time in ages. “Dude, yes. I’ll never look at floss the same again.”

Bryce rolled his head to grin at me. “So what's your verdict? Biggest waste of film sinceBattlefield Earth, or underrated cinematic gem?”

“Mmm, tough call. I'll give it a solid six out of ten on the ‘so bad it's good’ scale.”

“Fair.” Bryce shifted, slinging his arm across the back of the couch, his fingers grazing my shoulder. “You're a man of discriminating taste.”

I shifted closer, letting Bryce’s arm settle across my shoulders, warm and grounding. His warmth seeped through my thin T-shirt, melting away the lingering tension. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this content, this at ease.

With Shepherd, every interaction was charged, heavy with unsaid things and uncrossed lines. Rules stood between us like electrified fences, necessary but isolating. He gave me purpose and stability, but rarely this kind of simple comfort.

I hadn’t realized how much I craved casual touch until now. As another cheesy horror movie played, I leaned further into Bryce, soaking up his affection like a touch-starved cat.

Bryce was happy to indulge me, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my shoulder, raising pleasant goosebumps. Now and then, his low chuckle rumbled through his chest, vibrating against me as a ridiculous scene played out on screen.

During a lull in the action, Bryce shifted, twisting to face me. His other hand came up to brush an errant lock of hair off my forehead, the pad of his thumb grazing my temple. I sucked in a sharp breath.

Bryce's eyes were soft and searching as he studied my face. The pad of his thumb lingered on my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. “Hey. Can I ask you something?”

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “Sure. What's up?”

“This... thing between us. The touching, the flirting.” Bryce's voice was low and intimate, meant only for my ears, even though we were alone. “Am I imagining it, or is there something here?”

My heartbeat thundered in my ears. I'd been wondering the same thing all night, trying to decipher the meaning behind Bryce's easy affection and lingering looks. Part of me wanted to brush it off, to deflect with a joke like I always did when things got too real. But another part, the part that craved Bryce's touch like a drug, desperately wanted it to mean something.

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