Page 7 of Are You Gonna Run?
Those fucking fishnets though.
When we’re about five minutes out from where she truly wants to go, I glance over and find her looking a little more excited at the prospect of finally getting what she’s been asking for. I’m glad none of those other Tinder guys gave her what she wanted, because if they had, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to see the look on her face right now. It’s stunning. “Have you been here before?”
“It’s been a couple of years, but it was amazing last time. You said you’ve never been, right?”
Her blue eyes are lit up like the night sky and it takes me a second to realize she just asked me a question. I honestlycompletely forgot I was even driving. Who gave me a license?
“No, I haven’t. I’ve been to one that was on a farm, but never this one. Are you a screamer?”
Please be a screamer. Haunted house or not, I need to hear her screams tonight.
“I try not to be because most people find it really annoying, but sometimes I can’t help it,” she says sheepishly. “So... maybe.”
“Scream all you need for me.” Wait, that came out exactly how I meant it to. Oops.
Instead of taking it back, I just toss her a grin as I pull into the creepy parking lot and stare up at the giant stone building. It looks like a castle, but the strobe lights flashing off the walls look pretty cheesy. She seems to think so too, because I see confusion flash briefly across her face before she goes right back to being excited.
I splurged for fast passes so we don’t have to stand in line, though now I’m regretting it. I almost consider saying I lost them just to spend more time with her, but I think I’ve stretched this date out just about as long as she’ll let me.
At least for now. Something tells me this date won’t be over once we’re through here, and maybe that something is me. She may not be looking to date, but I’m a persistent motherfucker with no sense of personal space, so she’s gonna have to tell me to fuck off if that’s what she wants.
The second she said she’s never had a boyfriend, I wanted to be the exception. I don’t even know why.
Fucking fishnets.
The first room is exactly what you expect from an old, rotted prison. The flashes of a strobe light every few seconds are the only light source we have, making Rowyn move closer to me just like I hoped she would.
“Where is everyone?” she asks quietly, wrapping her hand around my bicep. “This is w— oh shit!”
A clown with a chainsaw comes running at her, making her yelp as she plasters herself against me.
Jump scares always make me grin, I don’t know why, but feeling her body against mine and being able to smell her hair without being a creep has that dumb smile glued to my face.
She’s clinging to me — a man she just met — for comfort, and I have to admit I like it.
The clown releases a menacing laugh, his chainsaw revving in our direction as we squeeze past him, and then before she can even breathe in relief, some creepy little shit runs over on all fours growling at us like he’s rabid.
We’re separated for a moment as she skirts around him the other direction, but when she runs back to me, she reaches down and grabs my hand.
I don’t know what my face does, but it makes her drop it pretty quickly.
I’m stunned, staring down at my hand and wondering why she grabbed it so naturally, and more importantly why the fuck she let it go. I’ve never held hands with a girl before, and now my palm feels colder for some strange reason. I don’t know why I want to, but I really want to hold her hand now. Fuck it.
I grab it back and interlace our fingers together for good measure, then tug her along into the next room like this isn’t something I know just gave her butterflies. Those little shits are flapping around in mystomach too, and I need them to either stop or go back to her side.
As we get deeper, she jumps a little higher, screams a little louder — but I don’t know if I buy it anymore. This shit is cheesy as hell with animatronics that don’t move quite right, bright colored spider webs, and actors who clearly don’t want to be here.
Some of her flinches even seem delayed, and I just know it’s her trying hard to make the best of something that’s clearly letting her down.
I refuse to let this be what she remembers of this place. We make it to a dark hallway with fake blood splattered everywhere and broken cell doors, and when I realize how alone we are, I take the opportunity to pull her against me again. This time, I guide my hand down her side until I’m gripping her hip.
“Eris,” she gasps, flattening her hand over mine, but not stopping me. “What are you doing?”
I don’t know, but I can’t admit that. “Can’t help myself. You wore the damn fishnets.”
I curl them a little tighter and bring my other hand into play, using this one toghost my rough fingertips along her cheek and chin, seeing where the line is here and if she’s down to cross it.
Judging by the way she tips her head back and becomes putty in my hands, I’d say she is.
