Page 74 of Fall I Want
“Pfft. No. Freddie. Jason. Chuckie. Every September and October, I have a list of horror films I can’t go a season without seeing. It’s one of my secret obsessions and has been since I was a young teenager. Some girls cancel plans because they have to wash their hair. I have cult classics to watch.”
She makes me smile. “Which is your favorite?”
“That’s like forcing a parent to choose their favorite kid,” she explains.
“You love horror and write romance. You’re sunshine and darkness all rolled into one,” I say.
“A good way to describe me.”
The first scene opens with two men walking through a cemetery, carrying lanterns as violins screech.
“The music makes it creepier,” she says, covering her mouth as she speaks.
Jason’s grave is shown and the two guys dig as lightning flashes in the background. Thunder crashes in the distance on the television and in real life. The suspense builds as the guy asks his friend for a crowbar, and just as he lifts the casket lid, Autumn screams at the top of her lungs and grabs at my waist.
“Fuck!” I drop my slice of pizza and it smacks onto the floor, cheese side down, as she loses her shit with laughter.
“Aww, I’m sorry!” She chuckles. “I’ll clean it up.”
My heart races. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Are you ticklish?” She grabs my waist again and I wiggle away.
“Don’t tell a soul,” I warn, squirming, laughing, but also avoiding her hands.
Her face softens. “You were into it. I appreciate that.”
“I’ll get you back,” I tell her, just as lightning reanimates Jason. “When youleastexpect it.”
“Can’t wait. I enjoy the thrill. Love to feel my heart pumping. Reminds me I’m alive,” she admits, placing her fingers on the pulse in my neck. I lean over, stealing a bite of her pizza. I notice a bit of marinara on the corner of her mouth and stop to wipe my thumb across it, then lick it off my finger as she watches.
“Mm.”
She moves closer to me and the mood in the room shifts. It grows intense as she meets my eyes.
“I want you,” she whispers.
“We’ve had too much to drink,” I say, studying her perfect, parted lips that beg for me.
Her eyes flutter closed and she waits. “Don’t you want me?”
“It’s the tequila talking, I promise.”
“Answer the question or remove a piece of clothing,” she states.
Autumn is beautiful, with long dark lashes and high cheekbones. Her tongue darts out and I want to capture it.
“Pumpkin.” I place my thumb on her chin and lift her face, giving myself a better view of this gorgeous woman. I close my eyes, our mouths only inches apart, and contemplate crossing the imaginary line I’ve drawn as electricity soars.
I want to. Fuck.
We wouldn’t stop, though, but it’s hard to ignore the magic swirling between us, pulling us closer.
The attraction streams between us, and at this point of the night, if a line were crossed, we’d fully lose control.
If we’re going to be together, it needs to be without lost inhibitions. Without excuses. Without the worry of consent. No regrets afterward.
Somehow, I fight the magnetic force that yanks me toward her.
