𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊, 𝐫. 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬

𝐎𝐍𝐄

𝒔 𝒄 𝒓 𝒆 𝒂 𝒎

Casey perused through her small shelf of tapes, eyebrows knit together as she examined each one.  "You know this stuff better than I do, (y/n/n). What do you think?"

Her tone made no effort to hide her frustration.

"You sure? Last time I picked you made me sleepover with you for a week," you let out a quiet snicker as you ripped the label off the Jiffy Pop and placed it on the burner. 

The two of you had watched Halloween while babysitting the Kennedys and she practically pissed herself.

"You knew what you were doing picking that movie while we were babysitting," she walked over to the kitchen, leaning against the counter, "and poor James had to walk in right when the guy got killed in the kitchen."

You gasped, "That's why we don't sit for them anymore?! I thought they just got tired of us raiding their fridge."

"Just go pick a movie!" Casey laughed, shoving you towards the living room as you laughed with her.

With a smile, you crouched down, squinting at the dark shelf to try and find the movie you were looking for.

Many considered you a horror buff. You'd seen too many to count, and were known for recalling them in ridiculous detail. 

Out of nowhere, the phone rang, making you flinch.

"I'll get it," Casey assured, picking it up with a smile.

You gave her a nod before focusing on the shelf once more, cheesing when you found the tape.

Friday the 13th. Never gets old.

You grabbed it and walked back into the kitchen as Casey hung up the phone.

"Who was it?" you asked, curious as you placed the VHS on the counter. "Steve call to say hi?"

"Nah. Just some wrong number caller," she shrugged, turning to take the popcorn off the stove when the phone rang again. 

She grabbed it, and you decided to start locking up the house for the night.

You went to the front door, back door, and patio before coming back to the kitchen to see the color drain from her face, the phone still to her ear. 

"What did you say?" she softly asked, her tone a complete flip from a moment ago.

"What's wrong?" you mouthed, your concern growing as she speed walked to the patio door, cutting on the lights. 

The two of you looked out the window, but saw nothing out of the ordinary, other than the occasional squirrel.

"Uh, nah, I don't think so," she dismissed, hanging up the phone as she jiggled the door handle, making sure it was locked.

"Case, what's wrong? Who was that on the phone?" you asked again, following her back to the kitchen.