Page 77 of Falling Offsides

“You don’t chew loud,” he’s quick to say.

“The biggest issue is my mouth, what I say… my stepfather is particular about the way he runs his home, and I don’t humor his bullshit so…”

Auguste prickles—thick brows pulling together over his darkening forest stare. “So…?”

“We don’t see eye to eye which creates a hostile atmosphere and?—”

“Hostile.” I swallow and he asks, “How hostile?”

The tears I’ve been forcing down since my shower prickle hotter, flooding my eyes.

“Has he hurt you?” I shake my head in response. “Don’t fucking lie to me.”

“No. Not really… no…”

“Not really or no?”

“Jesus, what’s with the inquisition?” I push to my feet and grab my bowl, ready to take it to the sink when his large, heavy hands anchor on my hips.

“It’s not… I’m not interrogating you, Courtney. The thought of you being hurt?—”

“It doesn’t matter, Auguste. I’m not going back to Washington anytime soon, so…”

His eyes are narrowed to slits when he stands, taking my bowl and stacking it with his. I hate that he doesn’t finish his dinner. The food he cooked for us. To take care of me.

This is where I question all the reasons I’m holding back. All the whys that I’ve talked through with Delilah over and over again.

“Go put a movie on,” he tells me while I watch him rinse the dishes from dinner and place them in the dishwasher.

“I picked the last one.”

“Yeah, and you can pick tonight’s too.”

“Okay… out of curiosity, what do you like to watch?”

A wonky grin tugs at his full lips. “You won’t like what I like.”

“Try me, Masterchef.”

“Okay.” The gravel in his chuckle is going to be my ruin. It’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. “I like nineties horror movies.”

“Horror?” My eyes must be bugging out of my head because I did not see this coming.

Surprisingly sweet and broody Auguste Broussard that bakes me muffins and cooks me dinner while waxing lyrical about his momma likes horror movies?

“Technically nineties horror movies are slasher flicks which means they’re more jumpy than scary. The eighties were more psychological and the two thousands were mostly cringe and gore… although, I do enjoyFinal Destination.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“You can’t ask me that. What would you do if I asked you your favorite book?”

“Touché. Top five then?”

Another belly flipping chuckle. “Scream,Silence of the Lambs… shit… umm,I know What You Did Last Summer…Sixth SenseandHalloween: The Curse of Michael Myers… noPsycho… shit… no…Candyman…”

“Which one is the least scary?”

“ProbablyScreamandI know What You Did Last Summer.”

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