By her twentieth birthday, there are a few things Valarie Ricci knows for certain.
She knows that her waitressing job barely covers the costs of living out of a beat up old van. She knows she's stuck in the dead end hometown her high school friends...
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Valarie returned from putting Nonno to bed for the third time to find Rachel curled up on the living room couch, blanket fallen to her waist and cradling a half-full bowl of popcorn. "Okay, wait, wait, wait," Rachel shook her head, hair swaying with the rapid motion. "You seriously think that? Like you're not fucking with me right now?"
"One hundred percent." Alice's arm extended lazily over the back of the couch, body half turned to Rachel and half-turned to the TV screen, which was paused over a blonde woman caught mid-scream. "Cross my heart, hope to die."
"Wow." Rachel sat back against the couch. "I'm sorry, but you're wrong. The Conjuring can't compete with Saw in the gore department; it just can't. Wan's style evolved..."
Valarie tuned out the discussion. She was happy enough to reclaim her spot on the couch between them, curling a blanket over her crossed legs. The nape of her neck tingled, hyper-aware of Alice's arm draped inches away from her skin. She longed to lean back, to curl against Alice's side. She settled for watching the animated expression on her face as she debated the merits of some horror director that Valarie knew nothing about.
Overall, inviting Rachel to Bad Boy Movie Club hadn't been a complete disaster; even though it had taken them almost two hours to watch forty-five minutes of the movie due to Nonno's interruptions. Everytime Valarie apologised, Alice only shook her head and gave a warm smile without any hint of anger or frustration, like just being in the living room, eating stale popcorn, and nit-picking movies with Rachel was all perfectly fine. It left a feeling like melted butter in Valarie's heart, even as she was tucking Nonno into bed yet again, promising through her teeth that Nonna would be back in the morning.
Rachel was saying something to her. Valarie blinked and reluctantly turned away from Alice, "hmmm?"
Rachel looked like she was trying hard not to smile. "I was saying that it's almost ten. I'm going to have to leave before my parents crucify me."
"What?" Valarie protested. "But we haven't finished the movie yet! We haven't even discussed if the guy–"
"Norman Bates?"
"Yeah, the guy–We haven't even discussed if he counts as a bad boy or not! That's the whole point of the club."
Amusement glittered in Rachel's eyes. "The whole point, is it?" She stood up and shrugged on the coat that had been draped over the armchair next to her. "Well, he murders people and keeps his mom's corpse around the house. Does that count? How are we even defining a 'bad boy?""
"Whaaaaa?" Valarie looked around at Alice. "I thought his mom was upstairs–?"
Alice pretended to cover Valarie's ears. "Spoilers."
"The movie's sixty years old! You can't spoil a movie that old." Rachel laughed. "Besides, at the rate Val watches movies she'd get to the ending in another sixty years."
