Chapter Eight: Movie
RILEY'S POV
Mom pushed the cart through the vegetable aisle, tossing in broccoli, eggplants, lettuce, courgettes, and spinach.
I made a face. "Hey, Mom."
She turned, amused.
"I'll go find things that are less disgusting," I said.
She laughed, and I grabbed another cart, heading straight for the snack aisle.
Granola bars. Cheetos. Doritos. I hummed along to a song I barely remembered, repeating the same line twice.
"Bored too, huh?"
I jumped and turned to see Kayla, headphones resting around her neck, looking just as unimpressed as I felt.
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
"My mom forced me," she sighed.
Same.
Today was a public holiday—no school until next week. I'd planned to rot peacefully in my room, but Mom had other ideas.
"I abandoned mine in the vegetable aisle," I said, laughing.
"Same," Kayla replied. "Being the only girl sucks. I'm shocked I'm not a tomboy yet."
We talked as we shopped, and somewhere between jokes and shared complaints, I realized Kayla was actually… fun. By the time we parted, we'd exchanged numbers.
Later, I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling.
Saturday.
Cleo was out. Harleen and Amber had gone to a dress show Amber was participating in. She'd definitely win—she looked like a model even in plain clothes.
I'd declined the invite. Three-hour drive. Motion sickness. Regret.
The house felt unbearably quiet.
I called Kayla. She answered on the third try.
"Hey."
"I'm bored," I groaned.
"Come over. No questions."
I changed into a white long-sleeved cropped top and cream baggy trousers, left my hair down, and headed out.
At the house, I rang the doorbell—knocking was pointless in a place this big.
Kayla opened the door grinning.
"Hope you like horror movies, because you're joining us."
I agreed before thinking.
Mistake.
I was terrified of horror movies.
The lights were off. Every spot on the couch was taken, so I sat at the end—right next to someone.
I didn't need to look to know it was Xander.
I focused on the screen.
Ninety minutes in, my nerves were shredded.
When the woman on-screen screamed and the dagger flew, I screamed too—grabbing onto Xander for the sixth time, tighter than before.
What are you doing, Riley?
"If you hold on any tighter, Rachel," he murmured, "I might fracture something."
His voice sent a shiver straight down my spine.
"Sorry," I muttered, pulling away, face burning. "I hate horror movies."
"I noticed," he said. "It's almost over."
Then he went quiet, like he wished he hadn't said anything.
Even in the dark, his eyes caught the light.
I stared.
XANDER'S POV
After all the screaming and flinching, she fell asleep—head resting on my shoulder.
I didn't wake her.
Didn't mean the contact wasn't affecting me.
When the movie ended and the lights came on, everyone stared.
"She fell asleep," I said, gently laying her down on the couch.
"Right," Kai muttered, smiling.
Idiot.
"Where are you going?" Kayla asked.
"Up."
"Help me take her to the guest room."
"No."
"Please."
I turned. Kai was asleep on the floor. Jason was battling the fridge. Mason was yelling at him.
I sighed and picked her up.
"This is a mistake," I muttered.
I laid her on the bed, brushing stray strands of hair from her face without thinking.
She was really… beautiful.
I left before I could think too much.
RILEY'S POV
I woke up disoriented.
This wasn't my room.
The last thing I remembered was the movie.
I checked my phone.
12:23 a.m.
Five missed calls from Mom.
Eight from Dad.
Three from Cleo.
My stomach dropped.
I slipped out of the guest room, heart pounding. The house was silent. I didn't know where anyone slept.
Except one person.
I went up to the third floor and knocked.
The door opened.
Xander stood there, shirtless, face unreadable.
I forgot how to speak.
"Rachel."
"I—I woke up here and—"
"You fell asleep. We put you in the guest room."
He kept looking at me, and suddenly I was painfully aware of everything—my hair, my face, everything.
"Please… can I come in?"
After a pause, he stepped aside.
He went straight to his desk, sitting with his head lowered.
I stared at his back. His muscles flexed as he moved.
"Stop staring," he said. "It's weird."
I flushed. "Is that your catchphrase?"
"You do love staring at me, don't you?"
I quickly changed the subject. "Why are you still awake?"
"Half asleep."
"You're a light sleeper."
"Everything has a reason."
Silence stretched between us—heavy, charged
.
My stomach growled.
"I'm hungry." I blurted out.