Chapter 4
Olivia kept inviting us out.
Movies. Coffee. Group dinners. Little plans that always looked innocent and somehow always left me uncomfortable.
Then one day, she sent over three movie tickets.
The seating chart made my stomach drop.
Two seats together.
And one single seat directly in front of them.
I already knew how that was supposed to go.
I’d be stuck sitting alone up front while she sat beside Nate in the back row like some shy little heroine in a romance scene.
She even added a pouting emoji.
“Only these three seats were left.”
I was furious.
But Nate still wanted to go.
And there was no way I was letting them spend the evening together without me.
It was a horror movie.
I could already picture it. Olivia pretending to be scared, shrinking into him, grabbing his arm, whispering in that sweet little voice.
Pathetic. Such a pick-me move.
But the second we got to the theater, Olivia ran straight to me and grabbed my arm.
She looked up at me with big, innocent eyes. “You don’t mind, right, Emma?”
I was just about to snap.
Then she said, softly, “I’ll sit with Emma. Nate, you take the front seat. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”
I froze.
Even Nate looked surprised.
Her voice had that same sweet, playful tone, but the upward lilt at the end carried something sharp. Something almost threatening.
Nate rubbed the back of his neck and forced a smile. “Sure, Princess. I thought you’d want me to protect you.”
In the dark theater, only the movie screen flickered.
I watched the film, but I also watched Olivia.
I wasn’t afraid of horror movies. To be honest, I’d been so tired of life for so long that death itself didn’t frighten me much anymore, and neither did the monsters people made up around it.
But Olivia looked terrified.
Her lips were pressed tightly together, pink as winter roses. Her brows were drawn in. Even her fingers trembled a little on the armrest.
Was she really that scared?
Another jump scare flashed on screen.
She gave a tiny gasp and curled in on herself.
At five-foot-nine, she somehow looked both ridiculous and adorable doing it, like a frightened cat trying to make itself smaller.
I almost laughed.
Then the screen burst with another shrill, horrifying image.
And suddenly Olivia lurched toward me.
The softness of her body brushed against my arm, and at the same time I caught the faint scent of her perfume—something clean and cool and expensive.
“Emma,” she whispered, her voice rougher now, almost like a cat’s purr. “I’m scared. Can you hold my hand?”
Her breath feathered against my ear.
I went completely still.
She was too close.
That scent, that warmth, that low little pleading voice—it all slipped under my skin in a way I didn’t understand.
I looked down.
Her eyes were wide and clear, and one arm had already slipped around my waist as if she belonged there.
Like I was the one she wanted comfort from.
I should have pulled away.
Instead, I let her lace her fingers through mine.
Her hand was cool. Smooth. Slightly damp.
From the row in front of us, Nate turned around with a grin. “Seriously? A domestic horror movie? That’s what scares you?”
I instinctively tried to pull my hand back.
Olivia tightened her grip beneath the cover of her coat.
By the time Nate faced forward again, our fingers were still tangled together in the dark.
That night after I got home, my heart was racing so hard I could barely breathe.
Something felt wrong.
Not dangerous exactly.
Just… wrong.
Because the girl I’d been calling a pick-me had held my hand in the dark, and for one terrifying second, I had not wanted her to let go.