After all that screaming, I’m pretty sure Liam and I are scarier than anything inside that haunted house.
We stumble outside, gasping for air between fits of laughter. My heart is still racing, and I swear I can still feel the ghostly hand that grabbed my ankle.
Liam runs a hand through his messy hair, shaking his head. “That was ridiculous.”
I smirk and nudge him. “Says the guy who almost punched an employee.”
“In my defense,” he says, completely serious, “he shouldn’t have jumped out like that. Fight or flight, and I chose fight.”
I snort. “You screamed.”
He glares at me, but there’s no real anger behind it. “And you clung to me like your life depended on it.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he just raises an eyebrow, waiting.
Ugh. I hate that he’s right.
“Whatever,” I mumble, loo
