Scream 2 [✓]

Chapter 8

"Don't think we'll be taking any clothes off, Mickey boy," you gave in and sat down as well, not missing the lustful look glazing over his deep, brown eyes.

Mickey smacked his hand to his chest with an exaggerated 'offended' face. "Wouldn't dream of it."

The rules to this particular game were simple; one person says a random word, and the other replies with a word that starts with the first word's last letter.

For example, tiger - rattlesnake. The words have to be connected in some way, in this case both were animals.

You'd played this game multiple times with him, Hallie and Derek and Mickey had come up with his own edition, movies.

If you can't come up with a word in 5 seconds, you were required to remove a piece of clothing to your choice but you made it abundantly clear that the only clothing articles you would take off were your socks, at which Mickey pouted disappointed.

So now you were dealing with the snacks he had brought with him instead.

"Titanic," said Mickey, sitting there proudly with his hair pulled back by some random headband he had found. His legs were crossed as his torso leaned back, propped up by his arms.

You replied with, "Cabin In The Woods."

"Sinister."

Damn. It was getting harder.

"Repulsion!" You offered.

Mickey snorted, surprising you as he leaned in slightly. "Nightmare on Elm Street."

A mischievous smile crawled up your face, though it was a struggle to deliver it. For once in your life you were grateful of your horror movie knowledge. "The Exorcist."

But Mickey was quick to counter with a devilish, toothy smile of his own, turning out to be more of a movie freak than even Randy. "The Shining."

Curse you for the letter G!

"G... Gu-uh..."

Mickey's left fingers were thrown up, counting from 5.

"G- ge-! G..." You tried but couldn't come up with anything during your struggle. "Hold on! Wait, uhm..."

3... 2...

Mickey ran out of fingers as he hummed nonchalantly, his voice blunt but playful. "You lost, hot stuff."

Then, he tapped on his cheek expectantly with his forefinger. "My prize..."

With a scoff that has a corner of your mouth lifted upwards for a smirk, you grabbed a small bag of gummybears from next to you and threw it at him. "In your dreams, Mickey Mouse."

You heard him quietly grumble something under his breath but as expected, your refusal did little to nothing to deter him from trying throughout the four more rounds that were played.

Thirty minutes before your first lesson started, the conversation had turned to a more serious one.

"I thought that maybe if I push people away..." Your eyes were casted down down in insecurity, shedding away their hard exterior for this vulnerability of yours as you searched for the right words. "I don't want more people to die, Mick."

Upon meeting his eyes, there was this rare spark of sympathy shimmering in them. After a few seconds of holding your own, your friend glanced away and poured more Cola into his glass, before shrugging.

"Don't go blamin' yourself, babes. Pushing us away will only make you feel like a sack of shit," Mickey stated as he gulped down some of his drink, staring at you amusedly as you began packing your things for the day. "I'd die for ya."