Page 89 of Gabriel

I grunted but turned back just as the main character let out a bloodcurdling scream. Someone ran, someone died, and someone else’s face got peeled off.

Amara flinched. I didn’t.

She turned to look at me like I was the monster in the film.

“That was explicitly graphic.” She swallowed. “Weren’t you scared?”

“Trained assassin,” I said with a shrug. “Occupational hazard.”

“Even Pennywise?”

“Clowns are beneath me.”

She laughed, a real, soft burst of sound that echoed in the small space. It startled me more than the movie ever could. It was the kind of laugh that made you want to hear it again.

“You laugh like you weren’t raised around danger,” I said before I could stop myself.

Amara looked at me with something unreadable behind her eyes.

“And you act like the world’s problems are on your shoulders.”

I had no response to that, but she wasn’t done.

“And another thing,” she said, reaching for another handful of popcorn. “Don’t tell Anya I mentioned her reading habits. I assumed you knew, and I don’t want her to think I betrayed her.”

“Only if you tell me more about them,” I joked.

She nodded without looking at me. “Well, you get the point with aliens and their inhuman dicks. But she also likes historical romance. The overly dramatic kind with shirtless men on the covers.”

“I just can’t reconcile that Anya with the one I watched grow up,” I muttered.

“Well, you better start, because she’s not a little girl anymore. She’s a strong woman who sometimes cries,” Amara said, popping a kernel into her mouth, “when the brooding man tells the heroine he’s loved her since childhood.”

I stared at her.

“I’m not making this up,” she added, almost laughing again. “She even has a list of her favorite books with the hottest and sweetest annotations. You’re too quick to judge!”

I leaned back and let a smile play on my lips. “I… didn’t know that.”

Amara glanced at me sideways. “It’s healthy to admit you don’t know everything.”

I didn’t say anything.

I hated that I’d spent what felt like a lifetime protecting Anya and still missed something as simple as the books that made her cry.

Outside, the wind picked up. Inside, the movie surged into another jump-scare. A flash of blood and screaming violins.

But it all felt muted now, like the volume had dialed itself down in my head.

“You okay?” Amara asked quietly.

“Just thinking.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“What are you playing at?” I asked, adjusting my position on the couch to face her. “What’s your angle?”

She just shrugged. “Tonight, my goal is to finish this movie and be so tired I fall asleep the moment my head hits the pillow.”