A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 62: CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

ASHLEY

Twenty minutes later, we were still stuck in an endless loop of disagreements.

“Too boring.”

“Too cheesy.”

“No horror. I hate horror.”

“That’s a kid’s movie, Freckles.”

“So? Kid’s movies can be good.”

“Yeah. If you’re a fucking kid.”

I shot him a slow, smug smile. “Funny you should say that, considering how hard you cried when we watched The Lion King together for the first time.”

Kyle scowled. “How many times do I have to tell you? That was high school. We were much younger then.”

I tilted my head. “And what were we in high school? Three years old?”

His jaw twitched. “Touché.”

“At least I’m not such a wuss that I hide behind my hands every time the poster for a horror movie pops up,” he shot back.

I gasped dramatically. “I do not hide.”

Kyle smirked. “You literally refused to go to the bathroom alone after we watched The Ring. For two weeks.”

“That was different!” I huffed. “That movie had creepy little girls crawling out of TV screens. You think I want to see that at 3 AM when I’m half-asleep?”

Kyle leaned back, completely unbothered. “Still sounds like a wuss move to me.”

I lifted my chin. “I just dislike ugly things, which is why I try very hard not to look at you.”

His eyes narrowed, but before I could gloat—

Snatch.

“HEY!” I lunged, but Kyle had already yanked the remote out of my hands, holding it up high with a victorious grin.

“Oh, look at that,” he mused, scrolling. “I think I just found the perfect movie.”

My stomach dropped.

“Kyle.”

His thumb hovered over the selection button.

“Don’t.”

The smirk widened.

“Kyle, I swear to God—”

A single click.

The screen went dark. An eerie chime of bells. A child's whisper, too soft to make out.

Then—

THE CONJURING

The second the title appeared, I shrieked, flinging a couch pillow at his face.

Kyle howled with laughter. “Oh my God, you should see your face right now—”

I grabbed another pillow and launched it at him. “TURN IT OFF, YOU PSYCHOPATH!”

Still cackling, Kyle dodged, the remote clutched tightly in his hand as he leaned back against the couch.

“Say you’re a wuss, and I’ll turn it off,” he taunted.

I crossed my arms. “I’d rather die.”

Kyle grinned, clearly pleased. “Guess we’re watching The Conjuring, then.”

I turned to the coffee table, grabbed my mug, and took a slow sip of coffee.

Kyle pressed play.

The opening credits rolled, the ominous music creeping in like a bad omen. My fingers clenched around my coffee mug as I sat up a little straighter.

Okay. This was fine. It was just a movie.

A really terrifying movie.

I shot a quick glance at Kyle. He looked completely at ease, one arm draped over the couch, eyes locked on the screen like he was watching a documentary instead of a film designed to ruin lives.

I swallowed hard and focused back on the screen.

The music swelled. The scene shifted to an old, creaky house. A woman stood alone in the dark, her breath shaky, her flashlight flickering.

My stomach tightened.

Nothing had even happened yet, but I knew it was coming.

The tension built.

Built.

Built—

Then—

A DEMONIC FACE POPPED UP OUT OF NOWHERE.

I screamed.

Kyle howled with laughter.

I scrambled for the remote, but Kyle yanked it away, grinning so wide I wanted to smack him.

“Oh my God, Ashley,” he gasped between laughs. “I have never heard you make that sound before.”

“I hate you,” I seethed, my heart still trying to escape my chest.

“You shrieked,” he wheezed. “Like—like a dying squirrel—”

I grabbed a pillow and smacked him with it. “TURN IT OFF.”

Kyle only laughed harder. “No way. We’re only five minutes in.”

I exhaled sharply, gripping my coffee for dear life. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

He grinned. “Maybe.”

I glared at him, then at the screen, where the creepy music had started up again.

Nope. Absolutely not.

I reached for the remote again, but Kyle was faster, holding it high above his head. “Say it.”

I scowled. “Say what?”

“Say, ‘Kyle, you were right. I’m a total wuss, and you are so much braver than me.’”

I gritted my teeth. “I would rather be possessed by that demon than say that.”

Kyle smirked. “Alright. Your funeral.”

He turned back to the screen. Another creepy whisper. Another flickering light.

The whisper turned into a low growl.

The flickering light snapped off.

A shadow moved in the corner of the screen.

Nope. Nope. NOPE.

Without thinking, I launched myself at Kyle.

Not in an elegant, graceful, seductive way. No.

It was full-blown, every-man-for-himself survival mode.

Kyle barely had time to react before I crashed into him, my arms locking around his torso like an octopus clinging to a rock during a hurricane.

“What the—” He grunted, nearly toppling backward. “ASHLEY!”

“I DON’T LIKE THIS,” I shrieked, squeezing my eyes shut as I buried my face in his chest.

Kyle was shaking.

For a second, I thought, Oh God, is he scared too?

Then I realized—

He wasn’t shaking in fear.

He was laughing.

Loud, breathless, choking laughter.

“Holy shit, Freckles” he wheezed. “You just tackled me—”

“I DON’T CARE.” I tightened my grip. “TURN IT OFF.”

Kyle’s laughter doubled.

I lifted my head, glaring up at him. “Why are you like this?”

He grinned. “Because it’s fun watching you act like you’re being chased by a serial killer when literally nothing has happened yet.”

I exhaled sharply, still half-sprawled across his lap.

The screen crackled, the creepy whispering getting louder.

I yelped and shoved my hand over his eyes.

“DON’T LOOK AT IT, KYLE.”

He lost it. Full-on, tears-in-his-eyes kind of laughter.

I flailed blindly, trying to grab the remote. “Where is it?”

“Not telling.”

“Kyle.”

“Hmm?”

“I will bite you.”

His grin widened. “Kinky.”

I smacked his arm. “I swear to God—”

Suddenly, the screen went silent.

Then—

A loud, demonic screech.

I shrieked, leaping off Kyle so fast I nearly flipped the coffee table.

Kyle was dying, clutching his stomach like he physically couldn’t breathe from laughing so hard.

“I"I hate you," I panted, my heart hammering. "I hate you."

Kyle wiped another tear from his eye, still grinning. "You keep saying that, but here you are. In my arms. Clinging to me for dear life."

I shoved him away. "I was fighting for my survival, Kyle."

"Uh-huh. And if survival means cuddling me like I’m your emotional support animal, then hey, I’m happy to be of service."

I grabbed a throw pillow and whacked him with it. "Shut up."

Kyle cackled—right up until I lunged for the remote.

"HEY!"

He yelped, twisting away, but I was relentless, wrestling it from his grip as he laughed breathlessly.

"ASHLEY—"

By some miracle, I managed to hit the home button, sending the movie mercifully back to the menu.

Victory.

I collapsed against the couch, panting. "Never. Again."

Kyle chuckled, shaking his head. "Fine. But I’m never letting you live that scream down."

I shot him a deadly glare. "If you ever mention it again, I will break your nose."

He smirked. "Noted."

For a second, we just sat there, both still catching our breath. My heart rate was finally starting to return to normal.

Kyle nudged me with his elbow. "Alright, since you clearly have the spine of a wet noodle, we’ll pick something softer for your delicate constitution."

I rolled my eyes but let him take the remote back. He scrolled through the options, then landed on a comedy.

"That works for you, princess?" he teased.

I didn’t even argue, just grabbed my coffee and curled deeper into the couch. "Whatever."

Kyle hit play.

The next hour passed in a blur of sarcastic commentary, playful nudges, and actual, genuine laughter.

For the first time in forever, it almost felt… normal.

Like things weren’t completely fucked.

Like we weren’t exes with a history too messy to untangle.

Like we weren’t supposed to hate each other.

I had no idea when my eyes started to droop.

Or when Kyle's voice became a distant hum in the background.

All I knew was that the last thing I remembered was laughing at something stupid—something Kyle said, probably—before the warmth of sleep pulled me under.