“You know we can watch something else.” He wraps his long fingers around mine and pulls my hand from my face. And even though I’m sure someone is about to jump out from somewhere on the screen, all of my fear seems to fade away as all of my attention goes to the way he lets his hand linger on mine. “I just thought you said you watched scary movies.”

We’ve touched before, but this feels different. Intimate even. After the night we had, I think it’s almost impossible for me not to imagine him in a different light. One where he wasn’t just a good friend trying to cheer me up, but an attentive boyfriend who has made it his job to be there for me.

Obviously, I know that’s not the case and no matter how much I want it to be true, I won’t make the mistake of crossing the line between us again.

“‘Watch’ might not have been the best word.” I pull my hand out of his, even though it’s the last thing I want to do. “More like I hide under the covers and scream every time the music gets scary or there’s a creepy noise.”

He shakes his head and even in the darkness of his living room, I can see him fighting back a smile. And I really do appreciate the effort.

“Then how about we start a new tradition where we pick something you can actually enjoy.” He exits out of Get Out and searches until Hocus Pocus comes on the screen. “I’ve never watched it, but everyone is always talking about it on Facebook, so I figure it’s a safe choice.”

“I love this movie!” I almost clap, but have just enough restraint not to. I don’t, however, have the restraint not to yell, “Sisssstaaasss! ’Tis Time!”

His head jerks back and he looks at me like I’ve grown another head. “What the fuck was that?”

“That was my Sanderson sisters impression.” I shimmy my shoulders. “It was a perfect fucking impression and you’re going to be mad impressed when you see. But hold on!” Now that I’m not in danger of peeing my pants because I’m scared and can actually enjoy the movie, I need refreshments. I stand up, enjoying looking down at him for once. “I’m getting snacks. What do you want?”

I start to climb over his long, outstretched legs, but because I’m still a little drunk off fear and my legs fell asleep a little bit thanks to how tense I was, I trip over his feet like a total klutz.

“Shit!” My screech is higher and louder than I would ever like to hear again as I reach out for the couch. I’ve already embarrassed myself in front of Quinton enough to last a lifetime, I refuse to fall onto the ground.

Refuse.