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Chapter Nineteen


An entire day went by before I heard from Nick.

This was already so unusual - going a whole day without contact from him - that i worried he was angry with me for something. And the only thing I could think of was me spying on Z's house. I worried that when he finally did call it would be to fire me. So I spent the time working diligently to get the last loose ends of the party plans tied up and the hats he wanted ordered and, after much debate with the restaurant, an order of one thousand pork dumplings to be delivered to the party.

I wanted absolutely nothing but good news to tell him when he called me.

When Nick called me finally, it had nothing to do with the party.

Or, surprisingly enough, Cora.

Or Z.

"Sam! It's movie night, you coming?"

He said it like this was a weekly thing. Maybe it was, I dunno, but this was the first week that I'd been involved, yet he sounded like I should've known. "On the marquee for tonight's features we have a short animated film from the makers of Looney Toons, followed by Speed, and wrapping up the evening with, in my humble opinion, a true classic for all ages, Nightmare on Elm Street."

"A classic for all ages, huh?" I laughed.

Nick laughed, too, "Yes, all ages. Every age. Infant to a hundred."

"So when you turn one hundred and one?"

"Your heart can't take it after that," he said in a regretful tone. "But you, babe, are not a hundred and one. So... are you coming by? I've got movie theater butter popcorn and Dr. Pepper and Red Vines."

I laughed, "What time?"

"Five-thirty?" he suggested.

"Okay then, it's a date," I said. And the moment the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to suck them back in. I smacked my hand against my face. Oh God.

But Nick either didn't notice the word (or the handsmack) or he was gentlemanly enough not to mention either. "Perfect. See you at five-thirty," he said, and hung up.

I spent the next couple hours in another squealy what-to-wear frenzy with Addison, who couldn't actually come over this time because she was at the club, but luckily knew my closet even better than I do and was able to help me assemble decent movie-going attire from the shambles of my own wardrobe.

When I got to Nick's, I honestly expected there to be a crowd or something. Instead, the driveway was empty save for Nick's white Escalade, and when I rang the bell he came to the door in a pair of sweatpants and a Guns & Roses t-shirt. He had a grin as he chimed, "Hey! You made it!" He ushered me into the house and I shuffled along behind him through the house to the kitchen, which smelled of popcorn. On the counter stood two big plastic containers shaped like classic movie theater popcorn boxes filled to the top with buttery popcorn. Next to it was a tub of crispy Kentucky Fried Chicken. "I got a hankerin'," he explained. He pulled open a cupboard and withdrew a bag of Red Vines.

"A hankering, huh?" I asked, a teasing smirk on my face.

Nick laughed, "It's a very Kentucky word to say... what else would you have for KFC? A craving? Please, woman." He waved his hand.

I laughed. "So..." I leaned against the counter as he slid the Red Vines my direction and pulled open the fridge, "Who else is coming?" I turned the Red Vines over and read the label.

"Nobody," Nick answered.

I looked up as he put the two bottles of soda pop in front of me. That's when I spotted Cora's purse, still sitting on the counter. "She still hasn't come for her bag?" I asked, gesturing at it.

Nick turned to look and his brow furrowed, a frown crossing his face, "Nawh," he said, "Not yet." He sighed, and I could tell he was upset about it. "It's only been three days, though, I mean, usually it's at least a week between when she comes to see me so..." He shrugged.

"Must be nice to be able to just forget your purse somewhere," I commented. "If I left my purse somewhere I'd freak the fuck out and have to stop the presses 'til I went back for it."

Nick shrugged. "She's Cora, what can I say? She doesn't give a fuck about anything." He laughed, "Not even me." He grabbed the chicken, one of the popcorns, and his soda. "Anyways, c'mon, grab your stuff. The show's about to start." He hurried out of the room and away from the conversation.

In the living room, Nick bounced down a couple steps to the inset couch and put his stuff down unceremoiously on the big square coffee table in the center. He threw himself backwards onto the couch and grabbed a pillow, which he put on his lap, legs spread wide and remote already in hand. He watched as I took the steps a little more delicately and had this awkward pause trying to decide where to sit in proximity to him. I knew where I wanted to sit, but given the whole Cora thing I wasn't sure if that was... I don't know, appropriate.

Luckily, Nick caught my awkwardness and, with a chuckle, pet the cushion beside him. "I don't bite," he commented.

"You might," I answered, but I moved over and put my stuff down before sitting on the couch directly beside him, neatly tucking my long legs under me.

Nick smiled as he watched me sit. "You have nice limbs," he commented.

I laughed, "You're crazy."

"No, I'm serious, I thought so the day I saw your ass, too, but I was too busy focusing on your ass to comment on your legs, you know?"

I smacked his shoulder, "Shut up," I felt a blush coming on.

Nick's eyes twinkled. "I wouldn't mind seeing it again sometime actually."

"Only if you're going to kiss it."

Nick laughed, "Oh you are a dirty girl, aren't you, Samantha Catherine Roades?"

I raised an eyebrow. "You know what I meant, Carter."

He laughed and pressed a button on the remote. The lights dimmed and the screen snapped on and a loading symbol lit up in the center. While the TV loaded, Nick leaned forward for his chicken bucket, which he balanced on the pillow. "You know," he said, digging through the pieces, "You're bad at taking compliments."

"No I'm not."

"See, there you go again," he said, smirking.

I shook my head, "Telling me I don't take compliments well isn't giving me a compliment, it's actually the opposite," I pointed out. But even as I argued with him I knew he was right. I don't take compliments well. I don't know how to react to them. It's possibly one of the most awkward things in the entire world for me - taking a compliment.

"You know what I mean," Nick mimicked me, raising his eyebrow.

"Shush," I said as the screen loaded a picture, "The movie's starting."

Nick found what he was looking for in his chicken bucket, then offered it to me, but I waved it away. He tucked the bucket between his knees and started munching on the breaded chicken as a Looney Toons cartoon started on the screen. It was the Road Runner and the Coyote. As it played, Nick laughed like a little kid, his nose bunching up grin spreading almost to his ears every time the Wiley E.'s plan backfired. He slapped his knee, even. I kept stealing glances at him. He was funnier than the cartoon. What I wouldn't give to watch him watch cartoons all night... I thought to myself. The chicken was leaving greasy crumbs on the mantle of his shirt.

I have to say, too, that his sound system was everything he'd promised on the initial tour of his house. He hadn't exaggerated at all about the intensity. I felt like Keanu Reeves was driving the bus directly through the living room.

When Nightmare on Elm Street started, I whispered, "I'm not much of a horror flick girl."

Nick looked at me, "No?"

I shook my head.

"You wanna watch something else?"

"I'll be okay."

Nick put his arm up on the couch behind me. "C'mere," he said, motioning for me to inch closer. I did. He dropped his arm so that it was draped over my shoulder. "I'll keep ya safe," he said in a low, sultry voice. "Don't worry."

I think my heart about stopped.

He leaned closer, "You know... They call the movie Nightmare on Elm Street, but the street name is never shown or mentioned during the whole movie other than when they show the logo in the credits."

I laughed, "Really?"

He nodded. And the trival facts kept coming. He seemed to know everything about the film - from bottomless bath tub trivia to random cross-references made with other horror films. "That glove effect was made with a car battery," he said at one point. "That noise is a steak knife on the bottom of a metal chair."

Nick laughed when I screamed and hid my face in his shoulder. His arm tightened around my shoulder. He smelled heavenly. I closed my eyes, not wanting the scary scene to end so that I could just stay where I was, breathing him in. I could hear his heart beat.

"You can look up now," he said thickly after a few moments.

I pulled away, reluctantly.

"You're funny," he said, smirking. "I gotta watch scary movies with you more often," he joked.

"You're mean," I said, my voice husky, my face only inches from his.

"Very," he whispered.

Our eyes were connected. My heart was pounding, my skin getting hotter as he cleaned closer... Oh Christ, I thought. He was going to kiss me...

And then the bloody phone rang.