"Should we watch a movie?" Emily asked, her voice bright with whimsy as she looped her arm casually through Reyes's, their footsteps syncing on the lit gravel path winding away from the beach.
"You should really hold me close," Reyes said.
"I am holding because I don't want you to get lost."
"Me? You were the one who trapped herself there."
"Shut up!" It was really embarrassing for Emily. She hoped that this incident would be forgotten—Hellen didn't need to know about this.
The night air carried a salty tang, tugging at the hem of her brown silk tube top, while her heels—now firmly reseated by Reyes—clicked a steady rhythm against the stones. Raven waves bounced loose with each step.
Reyes glanced down, eyes glinting sharp under the low brim of her black cap, her broad shoulders a protective shadow enveloping Emily's curves.
"So, where are we going?"
"We are going to watch a movie, Reyes."
"That wasn't a question, I guess."
"It was a question, but I answered for you. Look, there is a theatre near the beach—I did good by bringing us to the park, didn't I?"
"I was the one who drove us, Emily."
"Don't ruin my moment, please."
"You've dragged me right outside a theatre already, Emily," she rumbled, dry amusement threading her voice, gloved hand hovering near Emily's elbow—ready instinct, not touch.
"That's true!" Emily grinned up, emerald eyes sparkling in the string lights' golden flicker, pulling Reyes closer with playful insistence. "Let's go in. My treat—perfect cap to the night."
They veered toward the quaint beachside theatre's ticket booth; a weathered wooden relic perched like a sentinel at the path's end. Fairy lights draped its eaves, casting a cozy glow over peeling posters that fluttered faint in the offshore breeze—bold titles promising thrills and laughs, edges curling from sea spray.
Popcorn's buttery allure wafted thick from the open window, mingling with the faint cola fizz and hot dog sizzle from a nearby cart. The structure creaked soft under the wind, red-and-white awning snapping overhead, its faded letters spelling Seaside Cinema in chipped paint.
A middle-aged man with a frayed baseball cap perched crooked on salt-streaked hair leaned out from the booth's shadowed interior, his flannel shirt rumpled, stubble shadowing a weathered jaw.
He eyed the pair with lazy curiosity—before cracking a gum-popped grin. "Evening, ladies. Tickets?"
Emily leaned on the worn wooden counter, elbows dimpling the scratched surface littered with ticket stubs and a flickering CRT monitor, her tube top shimmering under the lights, heels planted confident despite the sand's earlier betrayal.
"We want to see a movie," she said, voice eager, purse already unzipping in her free hand.
The man tapped a glossy poster taped crooked beside the window—Lily Warren mid-pose, crimson lips curled smug, leather jacket slung low over curves, pistol cocked dramatic in a freeze-frame of fake grit. "Lily Warren's latest? Action blockbuster—Neon Vengeance. Packing the house tonight. Explosions, car chases, her strutting like she owns the underworld."
Emily's nose wrinkled sharp, eyes flashing hot disdain, arm tightening reflexive around Reyes's. "No! Never!" The rejection burst fierce, cheeks pinking with old venom—Lily's betrayal still a fresh knife-twist. "Don't you have anything else? Something that doesn't reek of her ego?"
The man chuckled, unfazed, leaning back to thumb his monitor's keys with sausage-thick fingers, screen bathing his face green. "Fair enough—her flick's all flash, no soul. Got a comedy running parallel—Paws & Mayhem. Talking dogs, pet store heists, pure dumb fun. Light crowd too—prime seats open."
"Yeah, that will do. Give us two tickets," Emily decided swift, sliding a crisp twenty across the counter, snatching the perforated stubs—Paws & Mayhem, 10:45 PM, Seats C12-C13—with a triumphant huff. Change clinked back in quarters, her grin widening as she pocketed them.
Reyes scanned the booth's perimeter subtle—shadows under the awning, treeline beyond—before nodding once, gloved hand palming the door flap. "Lead on."
They pushed through velvet curtains into the dim auditorium, a cozy relic with worn red seats rising in tiers, air thick with buttery popcorn and faint cola sweetness.
Only a dozen patrons scattered wide, murmurs low under the pre-show hum. Reyes scanned the space predator-fast—exits, shadows, high ground—before guiding Emily to a centre row, her massive frame folding into the seat with creak, tactical jacket rustling as she claimed the aisle for quick pivot.
Emily sank beside her, kicking off heels under the seat with a sigh, bare toes curling into carpet, tube top shimmering faint on screen glow. "It's a perfect escape from Lily's ego-fest."
"You really hate her, don't you?"
"Of course, I do!"
Lights dimmed to black, projector whirring alive. The screen bloomed with Paws & Mayhem—a frantic comedy goldmine.
Opening shot—a bumbling golden retriever detective, voiced by a gravelly comedian, sniffing clues in a neon-lit city, badge comically askew. "Another day, another hydrant mystery," he growled, tripping over his own paws into a pile of donuts.
Cut to his sidekick, a sassy tabby cat in a trench coat, batting laser-pointer eyes. "Focus, Fido—crooks don't solve themselves." Chaos erupted—chase through a pet store avalanche of squeaky toys, villainous hamster overlord in a tiny crown barking orders from a wheel-turned-throne, slapstick pie fights splattering fur.
"It's childish," Reyes snorted mid-scene—a rare crack—as the dog face-planted into a kiddie pool, water exploding rainbow. "We are not kids, are we?"
Emily giggled, "Ms. Ex-military. Sometimes acting like a child isn't bad at all. It will keep us sane." Bad memories from her previous life resurfaced which she quickly forced down.
Reyes shook her head helplessly. "Is that so? Well, next time I won't say anything."
Popcorn forgotten in her lap, Emily whispered through a guffaw as the cat hacked the hamster's lair with a yarn-ball virus, "See? Better than Lily's fake tough-girl schtick." Reyes's eyes crinkled faint, smirk tugging her lip, the screen's glow painting them gold amid the absurdity.
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Author's Note:Hello readers! I hope you are doing well. Most of you ignore the 'AUTHOR'S THOUGHT' that's why I am putting my thoughts here. Those who like this novel—comment whatever you like. Vote. Throw Golden Tickets at me. 'Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation' —I am copying this, okay?