I pulled my blanket tighter around my shoulders, staring ahead, feeling the warmth of him beside me.

Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy, and I had the sudden urge to say something—anything—to break it.

“Mom’s been sick a lot lately.”

A soft, knowing hum left his lips. “I know.”

I pressed my lips together. “Dad says it’s nothing, but…”

“It’s not nothing.”

I swallowed, watching as Ghostface appeared, his mask glowing white in the darkness. Neither of us said it, but the weight of our fear sat heavy between us.

Blake shifted again.

His arm brushed against mine for a fleeting moment.

I turned my head slightly, studying the side of his face—the hard set of his mouth, the way his brows drew together, the way he looked like he was thinking too much. His fingers rested against his knees, the veins on his hands standing out just slightly under the dim glow of the movie screen.

Without thinking, I reached over and tugged at the sleeve of his hoodie. “Blake.”

He sighed, meeting my eyes.

“Why aren’t you watching the movie?” I asked.

His gaze dropped to my mouth for half a second—so quickly I almost missed it. Then, softly, “Because you’re not in it.”

I sucked in a breath, my fingers tightening around his sleeve.

It should’ve been a throwaway line. Something flippant.

But it didn’t feel like that.

God help me, I wanted to kiss him.

The flickering glow from the screen washed over his face, casting shadows that made his expression even harder to read. His green eyes stayed locked onto mine, sharp, unwavering.

I wanted to see them flicker.

I wanted to see them drop—to my lips, to my hands, to the way my body was leaning into his space without permission.

But they didn’t.

Because Blake McHayes never let himself want things out loud.

He exhaled through his nose, the closest thing to a laugh. “Jamal thinks he’s a genius matchmaker.”

I turned, glancing toward the concessions. I could see him and Tiffany, arguing in front of the candy display. She was gesturing wildly at a pack of Sour Patch Kids, and Jamal was clearly enjoying whatever nonsense he’d pulled to get her there.

“He’s also right,” Blake added lazily.

I turned back to him, frowning. “Right about what?”

“About you.”

I frowned. “What about me?”

“You can’t go five minutes without looking for me.”

My mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

Blake turned his head slightly, his lips twitching like he was trying very hard not to smirk.

“Oh my God,” I scoffed, flopping back against the windshield dramatically. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Am I wrong?”

I clamped my mouth shut, refusing to answer.

Blake hummed like he had just won an argument in his head. “Mm. Thought so.”

I glared at him.

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” he mused.