Gasoline.

3

"Do you drive?" Zayn asked when we got into his very clean, sleek, black Land Rover. "I do," I said buckling in my seatbelt and taking in the very expensive car. "It's nothing like this though." I stared straight ahead out the window at my beat up looking car. Zayn laughed as he buckled himself in, and looked in the mirror pulling out of the lot.

"My father, he isn't a stranger to money. He's ceo at his job. He bought me this." I nodded at his explanation and cleared my throat. "It must be very nice." He shrugged, but said nothing further on the subject.

"So, have you always lived in Miami?" I asked trying to fill the silence. It was surprisingly comfortable, but this night out was about getting to know one another, and that's exactly what I was trying to do. "Nope," he said. "I'm from Bradford in England. We moved to London when I was seven. I moved out here with Liam when I was eighteen. I live alone though. I had the option of living with someone, but I opted on living alone. I like to have somewhere to be alone. It's actually quite nice."

"What made you want to live in Miami of all the places you could have possibly chosen?" I pryed.
"A movie I watched," he chuckled. "I wish I was kidding. I'm just glad I actually like it though. New York was going to be my first choice, but I don't think I want to deal with all that snow."
"I agree!" I laughed. "I wanted to move out there someday, but this nice weather is in my Cuban blood."

"Cuban?" Zayn questioned as he made a left turn.
"Yep."
"Do you speak spanish?"
"Sì."
"You need to teach me some day," he said. Some day? Was that implying we'd see each other again. We'd have to see how the rest of the night goes.

We pulled into the movie theatre parking garage. Zayn walked around and helped me out of the car. I guess he saw me almost slip on my way in although I thought I was discreet about it. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket. "It started five minutes ago, but we technically are just currently missing the preveiws." I nodded. I couldn't hide how excited I was about seeing this movie.

We walked in just as two blonde teenagers left the ticket counter. Zayn glanced up at the brightly lit board displaying the showings and their showtimes. "Can I help you?" the red head said as she chewed a wad of pink gum loudly. The sound made me cringe as it loudly came through the microphone. I watched him as he stared with concentration at the board. "Yeah, can I get two tickets to Who's in My House?"

"Can I see some identification?" Zayn pulled his thick wallet out of his pocket, and slid her his license. I did the same. She examined them as if they were fake. She shined them up at the light as if they were see through. "She's being extra," Zayn mumbled to me. I laughed. She slid them back to us. "That's going to be $19.50," she informed us. Zayn nodded and slid her his credit card. She swiped it and handed it back quicker than our ids. "Enjoy the movie."

"You ready to see the movie?" Zayn asked when we got popcorn. We both agreed that kettle corn was the best powder topping to put on top of it. I nodded. "I'm extremely excited. I hope it doesn't let me down." The guy at the podium took our tickets, ripped half of it off and handed it back to us. "Theater 5 on your right hand side. Enjoy the movie."

We were right on time and the movie was just beginning. The theater was packed, but we still managed to get good seats.

The movie started off in a dark house. A teenage girl was watching a movie when she got a text message from her boyfriend. The text read I'm upstairs. She raised her eyebrows. "Didn't I tell you to stop sneaking through my window. You're lucky my parents aren't home." When she got up to her room, her boyfriend wasn't there. She heard the door creak shut, when she spun around she got charged at by a man with a mask that I'll never be able to unsee, and he stabs her almost twenty times in her stomach and as she gasps and the sounds of her choking up blood are heard the words, Who's in My House? flashes acrosses the screen. That's what I call a solid beginning. I hate when movies take half an hour to even get to something remotely interesting.