Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 132649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
It was decadence pure and simple. The screen took up an entire wall and there were two rows of six comfortable recliners, each with a fold-away tray and a cup holder. And in the third row were three reclining love seats for couples to share.
There was a popcorn machine, already filled with freshly popped kernels, the smell of which made Iris’s mouth water. Now that she was out of that stifling locked room her appetite was returning with a vengeance.
Trystan was fussing around her for some reason, draping a plush blanket over her lap, bringing her a raspberry slushy and a carton of warm popcorn.
“It’s lightly salted. Would you prefer butter or another flavor?’
“No, thank you, this is perfect.”
Luna had sunk down to snooze directly in front of Iris’s seat, and Iris occasionally ran her socked foot over the dog’s flank.
“So, what would you like to watch? Miles has a great variety of movies and shows.”
“I’m not fussy, you choose.” She didn’t care what they watched, as long as it kept her here.
He sat down in the recliner next to hers, kicking off his trainers and going full sprawl. He lifted what looked like a tablet from a small side table and swiped the screen a few times. He made a soft sound of approval before glancing over at Iris.
“You okay with scary movies?”
“I like scary movies.”
He nodded and swiped again, before putting the tablet aside. The lights dimmed, and Iris curled her legs under her bum and snuggled cozily beneath the warm blanket as she stared at the screen.
She shoveled handfuls of popcorn at a time into her mouth, occasionally sharing with Luna, and happily washed it down with her slushy as she became invested in the story.
“Oh my God, she’s a moron,” she groaned out loud about forty minutes in when the female lead made the classic ‘hello, is anybody there’ blunder.
“Why do you say that?” Trystan—who’d been largely silent throughout the film—asked curiously.
“She lives alone. If you think someone is in your empty house, you don’t ask if anybody is there. You get the hell out.”
“Fair point. Although…” He left the word hanging, the sentence incomplete, and it was enough to distract her from the movie.
“Although what?”
“The other night when you snuck back into the house. I heard an anomalous noise, and—I’m sorry to say—I asked if someone was there.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth in horrified glee.
“You didn’t.”
“I totally did. I knew it wasn’t Luna.”
“How did you know that?”
“My dog is smart, but I’m pretty sure she can’t turn door handles.”
“I tried to be so quiet. How are your ears so crazy good? With the wind and rain and everything, it couldn’t have been that noticeable.”
“It wasn’t. But I was already on alert after our initial meeting.”
“And you really asked if someone was there?”
“I think it’s instinctual.”
“It’s dumb. If I’d been an ax murderer, intent on slaughtering you, your question would have alerted me that you were aware of my presence.”
“Luckily for me, your only intentions right then were getting naked and showering.”
She fought back a furious blush, and lost. Fortunately, it was too dark in the room for him to see her crimson face.
“I was trying to get warm.”
A discordant screech, echoing from the surround-sound speakers made them both jump, and they refocused on the screen where the character was clutching her chest in shock after having unearthed a body in the dumbwaiter.
“If you live alone and move into an ancient house with a dumbwaiter, the house is probably too big for you,” Iris observed caustically.
“Aah, you’re one of those,” Trystan said, taking a slurp of his slushy.
“One of what?” Iris prompted, when he didn’t elaborate.
“A plot apart picker. Someone who tears apart the minutest details in a movie as they’re watching it.”
“I’m not,” she protested indignantly. “I don’t pick plots apart. Not usually. But scary movies bring out the worst in me. I think it’s my way of coping with the tension and fear. If I can point out an implausibility, I’m better able to remember that none of it is real. Although it doesn’t really work, since I always wind up checking cupboards and under the bed for monsters and boogeymen after watching a scary movie anyway.”
“Seriously?” Now it was his turn to sound gleeful.
“Ssh, we’re missing the film,” she said, trying to divert his attention. His knowing chuckle told her he knew exactly what she was doing, but he let it go. Filching some of her popcorn, he settled back down in his seat to watch.
The rest of the movie was only occasionally interrupted by Iris’s moans of disapproval and her squeaks of fear whenever something truly frightening happened.
Trystan immediately put on a lighthearted romantic comedy after the horror movie. A palate cleanser, he called it. Iris, who wasn’t a big fan of romcoms—and exhausted after several nights of poor sleep—dozed through most of it. She startled awake when the end credits were rolling, and sat up in confusion.