Chapter 102
OLIVIA’S POV
Everything in front of me looked so good–better than I expected, to be honest. At least one thing came out of this impromptu outing with Adrian. I stabbed a fork into a juicy piece of beef, letting the spicy aroma rise up before I took a bite. The rich flavors instantly melted in my mouth. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye.
He had finally stopped staring at me like some undercover weirdo. Now he was pretending to be busy with his phone, acting like he wasn’t watching me practically inhale this meal. I wasn’t fooled. I could still feel his gaze drift up every few seconds. Did he seriously think I wouldn’t notice? He was terrible at pretending.
“If you’re gonna stare, just order already,” I said mid–chew, not even trying to hide my irritation. “It’s obvious you want some.”
He slowly set his phone down on the table, crossing his arms as he leaned back, looking me over with a half–smirk on his face.
“You look like a wild animal right now,” he said with amusement in his voice. “How were you able to finish a meal that three grown men would struggle with?”
Oh wow, now he was a food critic too? I rolled my eyes and grabbed a napkin, wiping my mouth slowly like some proper lady just to mess with him.
Did you think I was going to order one of your fancy, flavorless meals?” I shot back with sarcasm, hoping to annoy him.
“You think if they had what I actually wanted, I wouldn’t have gotten it?” he retorted, sitting up straighter.
“Yet you couldn’t get your eyes off this dish,” I said, raising a brow.
He didn’t even deny it. Just gave me a dry look as if he was already regretting bringing me out.
“Anyway, I’m done,” I said as I pushed my chair back and stood up. “And since you’re not ordering, can we head to the cinema and get this over with? I’d like to get back home before you come up with another random outing.”
He stood up without saying a word, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves like he hadn’t just been caught staring at my food like a hungry kid. We walked toward the counter, and of course, he paid for the meal without a single complaint.
As we stepped out of the restaurant, the cool evening air hit my face, and I knew I had to mentally prepare myself. Every time Adrian invited me somewhere, there was always a catch. It never failed. He always found some twisted way to trap me, control the narrative, and push me further into his chaotic life. So yes, my eyes were peeled. I was watching for any signs–just in case this movie trip turned into another trap.
I mean, why else would he suddenly want to take me to a cinema? Something he had never done since I met him. And now, all of a sudden, we’re doing dinner and a movie like we’re some kind of couple?
We walked into the cinema, the smell of buttered popcorn hitting us instantly. I looked around, secretly excited but doing my best to keep a neutral face.
Now it was time to pick a movie. Since he was the one who dragged me out here, I assumed he already knew what he wanted to watch. But no, apparently I was the one making that decision.
I moved toward the digital screen and ran my fingers down the list of currently showing films. Action, romance, comedy… so many to choose from. Then my eyes stopped at a particular title. A horror movie. And not just any horror movie–one that had just come out this weekend.
Perfect.
“We should see this,” I said to Adrian as I held up the menu of films for him to see. My finger pointed to the bold title of a newly released horror movie that had caught my eye immediately.
Adrian leaned in slightly, his brows knitting together as he read the name aloud under his breath. But what really caught my attention wasn’t what he said–it was the way his expression shifted. There was a flicker in his eyes, something unreadable at first, but as I observed closer, I swore it looked like… panic?
“Must we see this horror movie?” he asked, his voice sounding just a touch too uncertain. “There are other good movies on the list. Why not pick one of those?”
I tilted my head, raising a brow. “You’re the one who dragged me out here against my will, remember? The least you can do is let me choose the movie. I checked the rest–most of them are outdated and boring. This is the only interesting one.”
He didn’t respond immediately. His fingers rubbed the back of his neck, and I could see him shifting uncomfortably on his feet. Something was definitely off. Adrian Westwood–a guy who never showed emotion–was suddenly fidgeting like a nervous schoolboy.
“Alright,” he finally muttered, clearly trying to play it cool. “It’s just a two–hour scary movie. What’s the worst that can happen? Besides, I’m the one who brought you here.”
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Chapter 102
He tried to pass it off casually, even running his hand through his hair in a show of forced indifference, but the tension in his shoulders said otherwise. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out–and I wasn’t just anyone.
Could it really be that Adrian Westwood was afraid of horror movies?
No… I had to be imagining things. There’s no way. This man had stared down reporters, fought boardroom battles, and ruined business rivals with a flick of his hand. But as we made our way into the darkened theater and took our seats, I couldn’t shake the thought.
The theater dimmed, and the movie began. It started off slow, but I could already feel Adrian’s discomfort growing. He was unusually stiff in his seat, eyes locked on the screen but his body language screaming “get me out of here.” Then he started biting his fingernails–something I had never seen him do before.
I almost smiled. If what I was thinking turned out to be true, this would be absolutely priceless.
Halfway through the film, the atmosphere was intense, but I had begun to think maybe I was wrong. Adrian hadn’t made any noises, hadn’t flinched. Maybe he was just tired or thinking about work.
And then it happened.
A sudden, brutal jump scare sent a loud shriek through the theater speakers as the spirit in the film lunged at the main character. The entire room gasped in shock.
But I felt something entirely different. A hand–his hand–suddenly gripped mine. It wasn’t a casual touch either; it was firm, shaky, and clearly unintentional. My eyes widened as I slowly turned to look at him. Adrian Westwood. Holding my hand. Out of fear.
It took everything in me not to burst into laughter on the spot. Instead, I bit my bottom lip, trying to suppress the giggle as my eyes flicked to his face. His eyes were glued to the screen, jaw clenched like he hadn’t even realized what he was doing.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, catching my expression.
“Nothing,” I replied, still grinning. “I’m just really enjoying this movie. Though it’s pretty clear some people in here are still scared of ghosts.” I added teasingly and then glanced down at our hands, making sure he followed my eyes.
Realization hit him fast. He looked at our hands, then quickly yanked his away as if burned, clearing his throat awkwardly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, clearly flustered.
“Sure you don’t,” I said, turning back toward the screen, my smile now permanent.
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