Chapter 168 Assessing the Threat
Chapter 168 Assessing the Threat
Caleb wanted the movie theater.
Eliza texted Mila that morning, excited, saying he thought it would be “fun” and “low‑pressure.” Mila told me while pulling on her coat, her voice careful, like she was waiting for me to object.
I didn’t.
A movie theater was predictable. Controlled. One entrance, two emergency exits, a lobby full of people who weren’t threats. And if Caleb Miller would show me who he was, he’d do it in a place where he thought he had the upper hand.
I wanted to see him try.
We arrived ten minutes early.
I dressed down — dark jeans, a charcoal sweater, boots — but it didn’t matter. People looked at me the same way, no matter what I wore. Power wasn’t in the clothes. It was in the posture, the silence, the way I scanned a room without appearing to.
Mila walked beside me, her hand tucked into my arm. She looked steady, but I could feel the tension in her fingers. She didn’t like unknowns. Neither did I.
Eliza spotted us first.
She waved from near the ticket counter, practically vibrating with excitement. Caleb stood beside her, hands in his pockets, posture loose. He wore a flannel shirt over a graphic tee, jeans that had seen better days, and sneakers with frayed laces.
He looked harmless.
Harmless men were often the worst kind.
We walked over.
Eliza hugged Mila immediately. “You look so cute,” she said, pulling back to inspect her coat. “I love this color.”
Mila smiled. “Thanks.”
Then Eliza turned to me. “Hi, Nate.”
“Hi,” I said.
Caleb stepped forward, offering a hand. “Hey, man. Good to meet you.”
I shook it. Firm grip. Warm palm. No tremor. No hesitation. But his eyes flicked over me — the sweater, the boots, the watch — and something tightened in his jaw.
He didn’t like me.
Good.
It made things easier.
“We already grabbed tickets,” Eliza said. “We thought we’d get snacks together.”
“Sure,” Mila said.
We moved toward the concession line. Caleb walked beside Eliza, talking animatedly about the movie — some indie thriller he claimed was “underrated genius.” Eliza nodded along, smiling, clearly charmed.
Mila listened politely.
I didn’t listen at all.
I watched the exits.
Front doors.
Emergency exit near theater six.
Side hallway leading to the bathrooms.
Back corridor where employees disappeared carrying crates of soda syrup.
I scanned faces.
Posture.
Hands.
Jackets.
Bags.
Nothing pinged. Nothing felt off.
Except Caleb.
He kept glancing at me.
Not curious glances.
Not nervous glances.
Competitive glances.
He wanted to measure himself against me.
He was going to lose.
We took seats in the middle row — Eliza and Caleb on the left, Mila and me on the right. The theater was dim, half‑full, the screen glowing with pre‑show ads.
Caleb leaned back, stretching his arm across the seat behind Eliza. “Man,” he said, “these places are getting pricey. Guess that’s what happens when the one‑percent keeps them afloat.”
Eliza nudged him. “Caleb.”
“What?” he said, grinning. “Just saying.”
He looked at me, waiting for a reaction.
I didn’t give him one.
His grin faltered.
He tried again a minute later, when a luxury car appeared on screen. “Bet the guy driving that doesn’t even know how to change a tire.”
I didn’t respond.
Someone two rows back muttered, “Dude, shh.”
Caleb stiffened.
Good.
He didn’t say anything else.
Halfway through the movie, Mila leaned closer to me. “He’s doing that on purpose,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“You’re not… bothered?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because he stopped.”
She exhaled, frustrated. “You’re impossible.”
Maybe.
But I wasn’t here to win a dominance contest with a college boy who doodled dinosaurs. I was here to make sure Eliza didn’t walk into something dangerous.
Caleb stayed quiet for the rest of the film.
I kept watching the exits.
When the credits rolled, the lights came up. People stretched, gathered their trash, and shuffled toward the aisles.
Caleb stood, rolling his shoulders. “Well,” he said, “that was fun.”
Eliza smiled. “I liked it.”
He nodded at her, then at Mila. “You guys hungry? There’s a diner down the street. Cheap. Good fries.”
Eliza looked at Mila.
Mila looked at me.
I looked at Caleb.
He wasn’t challenging me now. He wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t trying to provoke anything. He looked… normal. Nervous. Trying.
I didn’t trust it.
But I trusted Mila.
“Sure,” I said.
Caleb blinked, surprised. “Cool. Yeah. Cool.”
We walked out into the lobby. The crowd had thinned, the air colder. A few teenagers lingered near the arcade machines. A couple argued quietly near the ticket counter.
Outside, the cold hit immediately, sharp and biting. Our breath fogged in the air.
Caleb hugged Eliza, quick and casual. “You ready?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
He glanced at me. “You good with walking? It’s close.”
“I know where it is,” I said.
He waited for more.
I didn’t give him anything.
We walked down the sidewalk, the four of us in a loose line. Eliza and Caleb were ahead, talking softly. Mila beside me, her shoulder brushing mine.
“You okay?” she asked quietly.
“Yes.”
“You didn’t like him.”
“I didn’t dislike him.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No.”
She sighed. “He’s trying.”
“He is.”
“And you’re… tolerating it.”
“For now.”
She slipped her hand into mine. “Thank you.”
I didn’t answer.
We reached the diner — a narrow building with fogged windows and a neon sign that flickered at the edges. The kind of place where the tables were sticky, and the fries were perfect.
Caleb held the door open for Eliza.
She smiled at him.
Mila squeezed my hand once before stepping inside.
I followed.
The warmth hit immediately, thick with the smell of grease and coffee. A waitress waved us toward a booth near the back.
Caleb slid in beside Eliza.
Mila sat across from them.
I sat beside her.
The waitress handed us menus.
Caleb grinned. “Their milkshakes come in metal cups. You’ll love them.”
Eliza nudged him. “You always say that.”
He shrugged. “Because it’s true.”
Mila smiled politely.
I watched him.
Not the way he talked.
Not the way he smiled.
Not the way he tried.
I watched the way he looked at Eliza.
Soft.
Hopeful.
Uncertain.