He smirked. “I don’t wear anything.”

Another Country -14-
by Erin Halfelven

Josh sat down on the couch like it was his throne, arms thrown wide across the back cushions. I flopped beside him with the remote and started flipping through the local channels. The Saturday night Creature Feature had just started on Channel 9, hosted by a guy in a Dracula cape and a sparkly bowtie.

“Tonight,” he said in a dramatic Transylvanian accent, “we bring you terror… mystery… and a house full of haunts…”

“Anything but Jaws again,” I muttered. “Last time we watched that, I almost peed on myself.”

Josh grinned without looking at me. “When was that?”

I didn’t answer. It was last November. Six months ago. I still remembered how my leg twitched every time the music started: da-dum… da-dum…

“Okay,” I said. “This one’s called House on Haunted Hill. Vincent Price. Black and white. It’ll be dumb and creepy.”

“Perfect,” said Josh. He grinned, and I made a noise that might have been a giggle, wincing as I did so.

Before the movie could really get going, Dad stepped into the living room, jingling his keys.

“Hey, Bobby,” he said. “Your brother and Cyndy are going to take your room tonight. So you’ll be out here on the couch.”

“Okay?”

Dad looked between Josh and me. “Bonus for you two — means Josh can stay as late as he wants.”

Josh raised his eyebrows. “Cool.”

“Cool,” I echoed. Not really sure I meant it.

Dad turned to leave, but stopped at the doorway. “Oh—and don’t forget. No school on Sunday, but we’ve gotta leave early tomorrow if we want to make it to your Uncle David’s and back. He’s in Peterborough, fifty miles out. Be ready by seven.”

“Okay,” I said again. Seven. Jeez, what happened to sleeping in on Sunday?

Dad nodded and left the room.

“I guess I better go grab my pajamas,” I said.

Josh looked over at me. “You wear pajamas?”

I rolled my eyes. “Sometimes.”

He smirked. “I don’t wear anything.”

“I know,” I said automatically, and then froze. “I mean—I didn’t—I mean, you told me that once, I think.”

His brow seemed to twitch. Did he know I’d seen him naked in his bed just that morning, like twelve hours ago? Josh was grinning now. “Did I tell you that?”

I didn’t answer. I was already halfway down the hall.

⸻

In my room, I stood in front of the dresser, door closed, lights off. I reached under my shirt and touched the chemise. It was smooth and light, making me feel somewhat safe. But I thought about sitting next to Josh, buttons on my pajama top maybe pulling open, or him catching a glimpse of the straps. The satiny fabric would be a giveaway.

I pulled it off and folded it carefully before stuffing it under a pile of socks.

I put on a thicker pair of navy blue pajamas with little white dots and a long-sleeved top that didn’t button tightly. It was warm, maybe too warm, but I didn’t want to think about that.

Back in the living room, Josh looked me up and down once and snorted.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said, eyes on the screen. “You want popcorn?”

I blinked. “I was gonna ask you that.”

He grinned. “Then yeah.”

I popped a big pan on the stove and poured some lemonade from the fridge into two tall glasses. Josh adjusted the couch cushions and tossed a throw blanket to the side. The popcorn smelled like movie theaters without the jujubes stuck to the floor.

We sat close, sharing the bowl between us. I already regretted the butter I’d melted to put on the popcorn, as usual, I’d used too much. We’d both have greasy fingers.

Josh kicked off his shoes and stretched out, taking up most of the couch. I slid down to the floor, cross-legged, leaning back against the cushion near his knees.

The movie was old, weird, and full of creepy music. Vincent Price walked through dusty halls while doors slammed shut on their own and women screamed like tea kettles. We both laughed at the obviously fake skeletons and dramatic lighting, but every now and then, something actually scary would happen, and I’d jump a little.

At one point, I looked up and caught Josh watching me. His face didn’t change.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said. I could see the reflection of the TV screen in his eyes.

⸻

Later, I got up to refill the lemonades, taking a moment to use a paper towel to wipe butter off my fingers.. When I came back, Josh had melted into the couch, one arm behind his head, one leg across almost the whole seat, the other right where I had been sitting.

“I had that spot,” I said.

He didn’t move. “You snooze, you lose.”

I looked at him, then at the TV, and then at the couch.

“Make some room.”

He shifted a little, patting the cushion between his legs like it was the most natural thing in the world. I hesitated, then sat. My hip bumped against his thigh. One of my hands landed on his leg as I adjusted the popcorn.

I left it there.

The movie reached its climax — creaking noises, screaming, the house shaking before it disappeared into Hell. I gasped. Josh laughed. People died horribly.

Then it was over.

A commercial came on for a used car dealership, featuring a guy in a cowboy hat riding a rhino. “I’d do anything to sell a car,” the voiceover proclaimed in a West Tulsa drawl.

“Does this make a bed?” Josh asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “But it’s a horrible bed. Better to just sleep on it as a couch.”

He nodded. Neither of us said anything else.

I felt Josh shift beside me. I still had one leg pressed against his thigh, and my hand resting near his other knee. My heart was pounding.

He reached down and lifted my chin.

I looked into his eyes, seeing my own reflection this time.

And then he kissed me.

It didn’t last long — just long enough to know it happened, just long enough to make everything inside me tilt and spin.

And suddenly I was sitting on the floor, stunned, popcorn spilled somewhere under the coffee table, and Josh was halfway out the front door like Vincent Price was chasing him with an axe.

The door clicked shut.

The rhino on the TV charged through a flaming hoop while the cowboy screamed about rebates and zero percent financing.

I just sat there feeling the greasy fingerprints Josh had left on my chin and the cool fire in my lips.