–Damon–
I had reserved the entire cinema for us — every plush seat, every beam of light, the hum of the projector, all of it hush and private. A 3D showing, because small theatrics suited me; because she looked impossibly fragile in those sunglasses, and because I liked watching the way light tried to steal itself across her face. I slipped the sunglasses on her, took her hand, and waited for the darkness to swallow us.
"This hasn't been shown in the whole country," I said, keeping my voice low, the kind of voice I use when I want the world to feel a hair's breadth away.
"Are you terrified?" she asked.
"I'm not." I let out a chuckle. I tried to make it casual. The truth: horror films made my skin crawl. Reality was where I kept my calm. Reality was where I did my worst work. But tonight — tonight I wanted to be ordinary. Tonight I wanted popcorn, childish jump scares, and her hand in mine.
"Let's just cancel this," she muttered suddenly, voice tiny and unexpected.
