Staring at her, he wondered if he’d ever met someone so blunt.
She answered her own question for him. “I think we already established you don’t really know me.” She tossed the popcorn into her mouth and chewed, her eyes sparking with challenge, ready for battle if he contradicted her or said anything else she could take as criticism or a verbal attack.
“So tell me why it’s brilliant.”
She blinked, the battle-fire fading from her eyes. After a beat of hesitation, she waved him inside, motioning to the space beside her on the well-worn sofa. “Come on. Let me convert you then.”
“Convert me to horror movies?”
“Not just horror movies. You shouldn’t get so hung up on labels.” Her gaze held his and he felt, in that moment, that she was talking about something more than movies.
He closed the door behind him and entered the house. Right away he noticed how flat and matted the carpet felt under his shoes, like it was centuries old.
“I’m only fifteen minutes in or so.” She briefly gave him a recap, extending the bag of popcorn toward him as she talked, all at once relaxed and casual—like having him beside her in her living room was nothing unusual.
He accepted the popcorn, realizing he hadn’t eaten and remembering that Mom was holding dinner for him. Oh, damn. He hurriedly dug his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick text to his mom, letting her know to eat without him and asking if she had heard from Emmaline yet, as he hadn’t found her.
Lowering his phone back down, he watched as a variety of characters boarded onto a train that was presumably heading into disaster.
“So let me guess,” he began. “There’s a serial killer on the train.”
She cast him a disgusted look. “That’s not even creative.”
“What then?”
She looked at him as though it was obvious. “Zombies.”
“Ah. And that’s creative?”
At his implication that it wasn’t, she looked outraged. “And a guy in a hockey mask is?” She snorted. “The boogeyman in the dark has been around before the written word. There’s nothing creative about that fear. Zombies have only been around a generation or so, and only thanks to Romero.”
“I can see you’ve given zombies some thought.”
She shrugged. “The subject of zombies always leads to interesting ethical questions . . . dilemmas you’re never going to get out of some stupid slasher movie.”
She was smart.
Not that he thought her less than intelligent in their recent encounters, but it was exactly as she had said: he didn’t really know her.
His phone vibrated and he glanced down at the text from his mom. Emmaline is here. When are you going to be home?
He quickly typed back. Be home soon. Bumped into someone who is helping me with a . . . He paused and looked at Hayden on the couch next to him.
Project, he finished typing. Yeah, that felt like the right word. He’d claimed it his mission to find out what was going on between his sister and Hayden.
His mom replied back with an okay and he returned his attention to the movie, watching as an obviously wounded/infected person snuck onto a train when no one was looking.
“And so it begins,” Hayden announced with some satisfaction as the infected person secured herself in a bathroom on the train.
Despite his general disinterest in horror movies, and his belief that he was here only because of his sister, he found himself getting sucked into the story.
By the time all hell broke loose on the train, he was fully invested.
“Wow,” he mused as he watched a human die and turn zombie. “The cracking sound really adds a certain something to it.”
“Right?” She nodded. “I mean, it’s a little reminiscent of the way zombies turn in World War Z, but this is somehow more basic . . . primitive. Less elegant.” She nodded once as though in agreement with herself.
“I haven’t seen it.”
“You haven’t seen World War Z? That’s awful. Truly unforgivable.” She stood up and moved into the tiny kitchen. Her gaze remained glued to the screen as she walked. She opened the mustard-colored fridge and took out two cans of Coke.
Returning, she gave him one without comment and resumed watching the movie, tucking her legs under her on the couch.
“Thanks,” he murmured, popping the can open and swallowing the sweet burn of soda.
They watched for another few minutes. She interjected, pointing out things for him to notice. “And there’s your villain.” She waved at a middle-aged man in a suit on the screen.
“Still gotta have a baddie in addition to the zombies, huh?”
“Of course. The zombies aren’t evil. They’re us . . . mindless us. Ourselves without free will. Without conscience. They simply exist. That guy—” She stabbed a finger at the pinched-lipped man in a business suit. “He’s the worst because he still has free will and he chooses evil. He’d throw a baby to the zombies if it saved himself. He’s who we should fear being like more than the zombies.”
She looked back at the screen, but Nolan found himself staring at her, wondering if he ever had a conversation with Priscilla—with anyone—like this. Over a movie, no less.
At one point in the film, the lead child actress started crying.
She dropped her fist on the couch cushion between them. “Casting that girl was genius. She’s so cute. There’s nothing like throwing in an innocent, sweet-faced child to really highlight the . . .” She paused, searching for the right word, her gaze still fixed on the screen.
“The hopelessness,” he provided, “when the most innocent are in danger and in danger from their own loved ones . . . that’s the greatest horror. I mean, your father or best friend or spouse could be the one to kill you.”
She snapped her fingers. “That’s it exactly.” She smiled at him then, her lips a wobbly, awkward curve. “You get it.” Clearing her throat, she shifted on the couch as though he had impressed her and she didn’t quite know how to handle that.
Gaining a little bit of her respect shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. A warmth spread through his chest.
They watched the havoc on the screen in silence. She inched closer to share the popcorn. He was aware of her arm brushing with his, but that was so they could share the popcorn. There wasn’t anything deeper to it than that.
He glanced at her, then back to the screen for a split second, and then back to at her again. She was fully invested in the movie. She might have seen it before, but that didn’t seem to matter. Her whole body was alive, leaning forward like a vine reaching for the sun.
He ate more popcorn. As far as dinner went, he was used to eating more. He had a big appetite. Still, he could not seem to move from his spot on her couch.
After he finished off the bag they were sharing, she got up and popped them another one. She settled back down beside him and Nolan pointed to the screen. “Okay, the rope of zombies hanging off the train—”
“Clever, right?” He nodded as she added, “We have to watch World War Z next. It has some really smart zombie scenarios.”
He did not let himself think about the fact that they were both in agreement that he would be staying—that he would be watching another movie with her. Somehow, they had already both reached that assumption.