Page 44 of Haunt the Mall

Despite the mark being kind of beautiful and on-brand, it wasn’t exactly professional to show up to work with love bites. Hot Contra must have shit like this in the employee manual.

My head pounded from dehydration and lack of sleep.

Now that Bree was here, at least I could leave. But it didn’t make sense to go home, lay down for a few hours, and rush back again.

I needed food. A drink. I needed a dark place to put my feet up.

I needed to go to the movies.

21

Nervous Sterling

I didn’t know if Victor would be at the theater. It would be weird to text him asking where he was so soon after our rendezvous. One date didn’t entitle me to his work schedule. Or a good morning text. Besides, I was going to the theater, regardless of his presence.

Still.

I flexed my fingers, then pulled up our text chain.

< Me: What movie would be best for taking a nap? >

I’d only made it halfway to the theater by the time he texted me back.

< Victor: In general or playing at the mall? >

< Victor: Because if you’re coming to visit me, there are better things to do than sleep. >

I chuckled and shook my head. Apparently, I wasn’t alone in my horny post-date haze. At least his text implied he’d be at work and happy to see me.

< Me: I have three hours to kill. I doubt your staff or your stamina could spare you that long. >

A ‘now typing’ ellipses floated across the screen. Was he trying to convince me otherwise? Or was he annoyed I was suggesting a film versus a lunch-hour fling? Finally, he responded with a simple sentence.

< Victor: The Old Woman and the Beach. >

My Spider-Man deleted something, hadn’t he?

I doubted asking him what it was would get me any answers. He loved mysteries. And being oblique. That was part of the intrigue before we’d started dating, and yet my insides knotted tighter for every second I’d spent waiting.

I sent him a thumbs up and ordered the ticket on my phone. The film’s story revolved around an old woman’s late-life rediscovery of friendship and fun. It didn’t seem like my usual fare. Maybe that was a good thing. By the time I got to the theater, I’d fixed my hair twice, but Victor wasn’t there to greet me. With a sinking stomach, I lifted my phone to someone vaguely familiar—maybe the guy he’d brought along to meet my sister. He eyed me as he scanned my ticket. “Upstairs. Theater 10.”

Aw, not thirteen.

So much for being a theater VIP. Maybe it only felt that way because Victor treated me. I strolled up the stairs and tried to spot my man amid the casual daytime crowd. The squirrely guy worked concessions with a girl I didn’t recognize. A decent-sized line kept them busy. Victor was nowhere to be seen. I traced the railing with my fingertips and sighed. Didn’t he know I was coming? Didn’t he care?

The widow animatronic beckoned me upstairs.

I smiled at the giant spider and made my way to the balcony. “How’s it hanging?”

She stroked her silken strings.

“Good, then? Seems busy,” I said. But people-watching wasn’t any fun without someone to share the commentary. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen Victor?”

Her leg crooked out, briefly pointing to a familiar dark figure pushing his bang swoop aside as he hurried to the entrance.

Holy shit. It was Victor. Did the animatronic secretly understand me? Or was that stretch part of its programming?

My heart thudded harder. This whole theater was weaving some kind of kinky web to draw me and Victor together, wasn’t it?