What If You & Me (Say Everything #2) - Roni Loren Page 0,31
It wouldn’t feel like a podcast. It would be watching movies and then talking about them afterward—just us. Like going out for a drink with your friends after a movie to discuss.”
“Right. Just us. And the world listening to just us.”
Just us. The two simple words coming out of his mouth sent a little zap of pleasure through her. Unbidden images flashed through her mind—nights curled up on the couch with Hill, watching scary movies with his big, warm body next to her, her sliding her hands beneath that T-shirt and feeling exactly how furry the werewolf was. Nope. Stop that. They were dangerous visions, ones that were way too tempting. This was about the podcast and friendship. She could not get involved with her neighbor and landlord.
She didn’t get involved with guys at all. She didn’t slide her hands beneath their T-shirts. She didn’t do the things she fantasized about late at night. She’d tried that in real life a few times, trying to get past her hang-ups, but it’d been a disaster every time. She’d learned sex could only be good in her fantasies and with a vibrator. In reality, with another human being, it was a terror fest for her and an exercise in confusion and frustration for the guy.
No matter what fantasies Hill stirred up, the only thing they could be was friends. She would need to keep the boundaries clear.
“We could do a few practice runs. If you hate it, we can stop. I would never post anything without your permission,” she said. “You’d have full veto power.”
Hill ran a hand over the back of his head, considering her. “How about we start with a movie? Because you’ve got me curious about the genre. But no podcast promises. I’m a pretty private person and that seems very not private. I don’t know if I want comments from listeners about tying me up.”
She grinned. “Oh, you’d get some comments, but I bet they’d be date proposals, not death threats.” She pointed at him. “Molasses and melted butter, Hill.”
He snorted dismissively.
“But I hear you and agree to your terms,” she said, meaning it. “We’ll start with a movie night. I’ll curate a list and provide the movies. You can provide snacks with your mad cooking skills. It will be fun. And educational. And life-affirming because you should not be deprived of the best genre that ever existed in the world.”
His expression turned amused. “Not that you’re biased or anything.”
“Course not.” She rocked forward on her toes. “So…”
He released an audible breath, and she sensed victory. “So, I agree to a movie-night trial run. I could hate the genre.”
She smirked. “Or get nightmares from it.”
“True,” he said with a solemn nod. “If I start having to leave the lights on at night, I’m out.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re the scaredy-cat type.” She flicked her hand toward him, indicating his general size. “You ooze frailty.”
He smiled a truly wolfish grin. “Delicate like a flower.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I do have a hard line though,” he warned. “No bug movies, especially spiders.”
She lifted her hands. “Got it. My hard line is torture movies.”
He looked surprised. “So the horror writer is afraid of some things, huh?”
She scoffed. “Hill, the horror writer is afraid of all the things. That’s why I can write it so well. You can’t write horror if you don’t know fear.”
He frowned at her attempt to be flippant. But before Mr. FBI Profiler wannabe could dig deeper on that, she began to list movie categories they should sample first—slasher classics, possession movies, teen horror.
But she only made it halfway through the list before she could feel exhaustion hitting her. Hill got up to grab them another beer, and she settled back on the couch, but she didn’t remember him bringing it back.
By the time the sun started to peek through the blinds, she’d dozed off on the couch, a half-written list in front of her, and Hill had zonked out in her way-too-comfortable recliner.
He’d broken her rule. He’d slept over.
She’d broken her own. She’d let him.
Chapter Eight
Something warm touched Andi’s shoulder, and she vaguely registered that she should look into that, maybe open her eyes, but right now she was floating on a boat in the middle of a lake, the sun warm on her, the sound of lapping water in her ears. She couldn’t remember where she was. A vacation? Summer camp? She hoped it wasn’t summer camp. The scene suddenly felt a lot like the final scene