Page 31 of The One Bed Rule
“What now?” I ask, knowing I’m going to need another one of these.
He takes a sip from his own mug and gestures to the TV, “Well, we should see what other terrible things are in store for Sidney Prescott in the next Scream movie. Right?”
The fact that he’s clocked into these details of my favorite spooky movie franchise has me shaking my head in awe. “Are you sure? We can watch something else if you want.”
“No, let’s get to the rest of these movies.” He stands, finding the remote and pulling up a streaming service. “Looks like we’re running out of time.” Seth cranes his neck to look out the window, watching the snow melt off the trees. “We should be able to head home tomorrow. Want to look for a flight?”
“What if we drove back? Had a little road trip instead? As long as the roads are okay?” I’m quiet in my suggestion and know that asking Seth to drive that far back instead of taking a quick flight is quite the move.
He tilts his head, shoulders dropping a bit, and answers, “What, you’re not sick of me yet?” One corner of his mouth tugs up.
“Not even close,” I say, slow and honest.
And I mean it.
Twenty-Six
Seth
Didyouknowthatthere are currently seven Scream movies? I thought we were talking about a basic trilogy, but this franchise went hard. So, that’s what we’ve done all day. Cuddled up in our chairs, or the love seat, or on the floor, covered with a freshly washed comforter—courtesy of Jess.
I can’t tell you the last time I’ve laughed this hard or been so invested in a string of movies. Mostly, I love how Claire loves them. Sometimes, people are afraid to jump into something head first because they’re afraid of how it will look—it could never be Claire.
Maybe that’s it? She’s confident in what she wants, what she needs, what she likes. It’s the whole drinking hot coffee, no matter the temperature, and watching her favorite movie franchise multiple times throughout the year. She knows what she wants and also how to get it, if we’re being honest.
We’re eating our second bowl of popcorn—our fingers all buttery and salty. Jess saw our movie marathon and didn’t quitbringing us food, snacks, and then lunch. She even made some cocktails, including a pair of espresso martinis. I may have shown her how to use the espresso machine, the one she had no reason to be intimidated by.
The martini is probably why we’re still wide eyed and awake at almost midnight. It’s like she knew we needed more time together, like this, in our own little world. Our last movie is going through all the plot twists and revelations and we’ve got to be close to the end.
I check the weather a final time and see that we’ll be in great shape to make the drive tomorrow. When Claire suggested we drive, instead of fly, my stomach flipped in a way that reminded me of those early interactions with someone you care about. Logistically, it would be easier. I’m sure the airport will be a nightmare tomorrow, considering a few days of grounded flights and chaos.
So, we’ll drive the eight hours, and really stretch out the end of the trip. I already checked with Jess and she has some to-go cups for coffee and is going to send us with a snack basket—she promised the homemade peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and my mouth is watering thinking about it.
I look over to Claire, her feet resting in my lap as we sit on the floor. One hand is in the popcorn bowl, bringing it to her smiling mouth, as she watches the end of one of her favorite movies—even though the seventh one isn’t her favorite, a distinction she made several times. Her face is bright from the TV, and lips are a little pink from the salt, and probably the kissing we did earlier.
This moment feels significant. I’ve struggled with thinking about the universe, or karma, or whatever you believe in–losing Abigail made it impossible. But now, this whole wild thing feels more like a gift than anything else. I know I’m grinning to myself as we see the next Ghostface reveal and I don’t care.
Fuck. This was quite the surprise. Glad I thought about a rule, something I guessed she’d buy into, knowing how methodical and planned of a person she is. A fleeting thought that brought one of my favorite few days in a very long time.
The one bed rule.
Our rule.
And I hold on to that during our last night at The Fable Inn.
Twenty-Seven
Claire
Afteralmostninehoursof driving, dropping off the rental car, and taking a car into the city, we’re in front of my apartment. I should be tired, sick of being in the car, but I’m not. I’d do it all over again, just like this. Just like our time at The Fable Inn, the drive was fairly easy and much more enjoyable when we weren’t white knuckling it like when we left the airport earlier this week.
“I’ll walk you up,” Seth says, getting out of the car and grabbing our bags from the trunk. He didn’t want to make the driver wait, so he said he’d call another car. Honestly, the man is too thoughtful.
The familiar routine of typing in my code in the keypad to unlock the door has me excited to be home. The Fable Inn was perfect for what we needed, and even though I do plan to visit again, I’m so happy to be home. I’m thinking about my favorite coffee shop, the weekend bagel I missed out on from my favorite bakery, and just the buzz of the city I love so much.
Seth is close behind as we get into the elevator, taking me to my floor. We don’t do the small talk thing, but instead soak in the silence. It feels comfortable. Warm.
The doors open and Seth gestures for me to walk out first. I lead him to the door, put my key in and open it. The smell is familiar and one that makes me even more happy to be home. Seth sets my bag down and stands with his hands on his hips.
