“Har har.”
I grin down at the cracked pavement of the sidewalk the town keeps saying they’ll redo.
“It’s okay,” I assure him, kicking a pebble with the tip of my knock off Converse. “Like I said, I don’t live too far from here. Plus, it’s mostly lit the whole way.”
“Mostly,” he repeats. “I’ve already made it my civic duty to walk with you. Unless you want to walk across the street and let me get my car. I won’t even kidnap you.”
Rolling my eyes, I glance over at him. “I appreciate that, but it’s okay.”
“What if I offered you candy?”
“Do you drive a white van too?”
He snorts. “White Jeep, actually.”
Now I’m laughing. “My brother once told me I’d get easily kidnapped if someone offered me free pizza. Sad thing is, he’s probably not wrong.”
“Does that mean you want the ride?”
“Jeeps do have windows…” I shake my head and keep walking, a smile on my face. “But, like I said, I prefer walking.”
“Is your brother older or younger?”
“Older.”
“Is he your only sibling?”
I nod.
“What’s his name?”
“Gavin.”
We walk for a few seconds in silence.
Then he breaks it with, “This is the part where you ask me if I have any siblings. The answer is no by the way. I do have a cat named Fred though. He likes to steal the strings from all my hoodies and hoard them under my bed.”
My eyes go to his hoodie before I giggle and meet his eyes. “You have a cat named Fred?”
He pulls out his phone and opens his photo gallery before showing me an array of adorable pictures featuring a chubby yellow tiger cat. One of them even shows a pile of strings next to him like they’re his most prized possessions.
“He was supposed to be mine,” he explains, shrugging. “My mom took a liking to him and they get along better. He just uses me for my hoodies.”
I’ve always wanted a cat. When I was six, I smuggled a stray one into my room using my backpack. It didn’t take long for Mom to figure it out because the cat was making weird noises and smelled bad. It was friendly enough with the brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen. Mom fell into a bad allergy attack when she found it and told my Dad to take it to the local shelter.
“We have a dog named Buddy. He’s a chocolate lab and one of the sweetest animals. I know he prefers Gavin to me. He sleeps in his bed all the time even though we’re not supposed to have animals in them. Mom gave up that fight a long time ago.”
We get further down Main Street until some of the other smaller businesses like the art gallery light up the street. People mill about and laugh at something before breaking apart and going their separate ways for the night.
“I’ve always wanted a cat,” I admit, even though at least a minute has passed since the conversation lulled into silence.
“Why haven’t you gotten one?”
“My mom is allergic.”
He hums out a reply.
Another minute passes before he says, “I guess you could get your cat fix from Fred sometime. He loves the attention.”
I slow down, stumbling when my shoe catches on uneven pavement. Corbin grabs my arm to steady me, not letting go until I’m on stable feet again.
“You want me to come to your house?”
“Yeah. Why?”
Nobody invites me to their homes…
“I’d have to ask my parents,” I murmur, keeping my gaze locked on the weeds breaking through some of the cracks on the ground.
“Okay.” Another pause. “How much further? I’m not trying to get rid of you or anything, but chances are I’ll wander in the wrong direction if you don’t tell me where to go.”
For some reason, that amuses me. “I’m on Alden. Across the street from the cemetery.”
“Creepy.”
“Not really.”
“You ever see Stephen King movies?”
“Don’t you mean read Stephen King?”
“That too.”
“No to both.”
He stops walking. “You’ve never read or watched anything Stephen King related? IT? Carrie? Pet Semetary?”
When I keep shaking my head, he weaves his hands through his hair until it sticks up in random directions. Clearly he’s a King fan, which doesn’t surprise me. Gavin read a couple of his books once upon a time and watches almost all his movies.
“That needs to be remedied.”
I blink. “It does?”
“Are you scared of horror flicks?”
“I don’t know. No?”
“You’ve never seen a horror movie?”
I shrug.
“What about clowns?”
I’m completely lost. “What about them?”
He cusses under his breath. “We’ll start with Carrie. It’s a classic and not that messed up compared to his other work.”
“I didn’t agree to watch anything,” I remind him, hugging my arms close to my body to warm myself from the cooling wind.
He nods his head toward my street. “Let’s go before you freeze to death. You need to watch at least one Stephen King movie before you die.”
“Thanks for being a concerned citizen.”
His teeth flash with his grin this time.
When we get to my house, he examines the flowerbeds planted in tractor tires on the front lawn, and the decorative windmill between them. Dad made sure everyone who passed the house could see it since the town voted against real windmills being put anywhere in the town limits.
The house is bright red and two stories. There’s a tiny basement that offers little standing room, and an attic that nobody has ever been in before. Dad has been renovating the whole thing for years, starting a new project every summer on the outside, and little projects indoors during the wintertime.
“Cute place,” he compliments.
“It’s home.”
He nudges the ground. “How about tomorrow afternoon?”
I stare at him in confusion.
“For the movies?”
“Now we’re watching more than one?”
“Is that a yes?”
I sigh heavily. There’s no way Dad will let me go to a boy’s house to watch movies, especially a stranger. “I have to ask, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up. They let my brother do just about anything when he was my age, but that doesn’t extend to me.”
He playfully pushes my shoulder. “What if I pick you up and put on my charm?”
“I don’t think flirting with my dad will help your case any,” I deadpan. Then I think about it. “Actually, if he thinks you’re gay then you might have a better chance of getting me to come along.”
He full on laughs. “Just ask and let me know. I own all King’s movies, they’re some of my favorites.”
“You have others?”
“I’m a movie guy,” he states simply.
“Movies can be … good.” I cringe at how lame that comes out, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“Agreed. So, get them to let you come. I’ll even have snacks ready. What’s your poison? You mentioned pizza. What else?”