"It's okay," he murmured softly, into my hair. "I’ll be right back," he said, wrapping his hand around my arm and giving it a small squeeze. I exhaled at the loss of his touch, tucking my body into itself tighter.
"Daisy," he said when he got back. "Look at me real quick, babe." He grabbed my chin with two fingers and lifted my head up to look at him. I blinked away the wetness in my eyes, seeing him kneeling in front of me, worry lining his features. "Are you okay?" He asked again, stroking his fingers across my tingling cheek. God, I was so sick of people asking me that foolish question.
I nodded, though, like I always did. Giving me a forced, fake smile, letting me know he knew I was lying, he twisted around and grabbed some tissues behind him before handing them over. I grabbed them, roughly trying to wipe away the evidence from my breakdown.
"Take this," he ordered, appearing in front of me again with a glass of water and two white pills. "I should have given this to you earlier, but I'm a sucky nurse." I studied the pills he put in my hand. "It's ibuprofen," he assured me.
I popped them onto my tongue and swallowed them. He gave me a warm smile and took it from my hand before setting it down on the table. "You wanna talk about it?" He asked, scratching his cheek.
I shook my head, looking away from him. I never wanted to talk about it and that was my problem. "Not Titanic," I said lightly, squirming in my seat.
"I don't blame you," he said, standing up and grabbing the blanket. "I hate that movie, too. Everyone knows there was plenty of room for Jack on that door." His large hands wrapped around the blanket, sprawling it along my still-trembling body. I gave him a sore smile and snuggled into the warm cotton of the blanket.
"Alright then, I also grabbed some horror movies since it's Halloween time and all," he announced.
I grunted. "Please tell me your ‘horror movies,’" my fingers lifted into the air to emphasize the words, "are not Saw or The Wrong Turn because those aren't real horror movies."
His nose wrinkled and he held up Saw. "I beg to differ," he said, tapping his finger against the case. "How could you possibly say this is not a horror movie? I'm pretty sure being forced to play a game where you either had to saw off your own foot or die categorizes itself as a scary movie."
"It's gore," I threw out. "So called horror movies these days just put as much blood and gore as they can and then try to call it a scary movie." My finger waggled back and forth in front of me. "No."
His eyes twinkled in amused interest. "Okay, Ms. Scary Movie Connoisseur," he bowed his head down to me. "Please tell me what movies are Daisy classified as authentic horror movies."
"The classics," I answered, leaning forward to take a drink of water. "Halloween, Friday The 13th, Scream and The Exorcist. Those are the real scary movies."
"Well, lucky for you," he said, grabbing a few from the stack. "I've got three out of four here, so take your pick." He held them up on and I pointed to the middle one.
"Buenos choice," he smiled, opening up the case and loading the disk into the player. "Jason was always my favorite, too. It also taught me a very valuable lesson."
"And what could that possibly be?"
"Never have sex with chicks in the middle of the woods in a tent." He shot me a grin at the same time I rolled me eyes. Grabbing the remote, he turned on the gigantic TV in the front of the room and crashed down on the other side of the couch. Suddenly, I felt a tug on my blanket when the opening credits started to roll.
"You going to share?" He challenged, and I twisted around, giving him a stern look. Snickering, he held his hands up. "I promise. No funny tricks." Shaking my head, I grabbed the end of the blanket and flipped it his way. He captured it, chuckling, and snuggled his head towards me. We both then turned our attention to the first death at good ol' Camp Crystal.
Ever since I was young, I have been obsessed with the classic scary movies. My mom always blamed it on my dad because he would let me stay up late with him after trick-or-treating every year and watch them with him. He liked to refer to it as our "father daughter bonding time."
I caught a glimpse of Keegan from the corner of my eye about thirty minutes into the movie. Instead of watching the movie, he was staring at me with his lips pressed together.
"What?" I asked, catching him off guard.
"This is actually pretty fun," he answered.
Huh? "Being with me or watching the movie?" I asked, looking at him with uncertainty.
He shrugged. "Watching a movie with someone else."
My body angled towards him. "You've never watched a movie with someone?"
With Lane and shit, yeah," he responded, running his hands through his messy hair. "But never with a girl. I mean, sure, I would play movies but I always referred to them as background noise. We never exactly, um, watched the movie." His brows furrowed at the last sentence.
"Okay, that's just sad," I teased, picking up a pillow and tossing it at him. "Now, let's give you your first real experience then. Quit watching me instead of the movie.”