Titus: Book Two of the Cantrell Brothers Series

Chapter Five

“Make popcorn!” Titus shouted from the living room, just the sound of his calm and commanding voice doing wonders to alleviate her nervousness.

Doing as instructed, Anna searched her cupboards until she found the bag of popcorn kernels. The small, little objects were poured into the machine just as she turned on the hot air that would pop all of their selves into delicious, little fluffs. Soon enough, she had two large bowls of lightly buttered popcorn and added some salt to Titus's bowl.

Rosco, Fee, and Milton – the three cats that she was sponsoring this week – all circled around her ankles as she made her way over to the living room. It didn't take long before Rosco got sick of her and padded over to where Titus was sprawled out on her three-person couch, his booted feet hanging off the couch's edge. As nosy and curious as ever, the calico jumped onto Titus's chest, nuzzling his nose right underneath the older man's neck.

“Ugh.” Titus made a face but still accepted Rosco and began petting the tom behind his feline ears.

“Take it easy," she said, smirking before tapping lightly on his stomach.

Fee and Milton immediately went to the source of tapping, digging their paws into Titus's white shirt covered torso. He immediately lifted the cats up so that they were on his chest, shooting her an amused glare. Handing him the bowl of popcorn, she made sure to keep their fingers from accidentally touching.

Although the sensation had always felt good, Anna had never liked how she actually felt desire for the man who she deemed as her favorite, older brother whenever any appendage of their bodies came in contact with each other. Thankfully, it didn't happen this time, both of their hands both safely keeping to their own boundaries of the bowl and leaving Anna to let out a sigh of relief.

Sitting down on the recliner right next to Titus's feet, Anna whined jokingly, “Titus, start the movie.”

“As you wish." He smiled, the fine hairs of his goatee reflecting light from the kitchen as he pressed Play on the DVD player's remote.

It didn't take long before all she could think about was the movie. Zombies were everywhere, biting people and turning them into fellow monsters in less than twelve seconds. An hour and a half later, and she was actually beginning to hear their awful, awful moans and cries as they searched for more humans to infect with their pathogen.

“Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God,” she breathed, forcing herself to keep breathing as Brad Pitt injected himself with some sort of serious disease, one of the zombie-like creatures right outside the door.

Just as the needle went in her arm, a loud smacking sound resonated through the small confines of her living room. She glanced towards the source, not surprised when she saw Titus with his hand covering his eyes. He had a thing – more of a passion really – for hating needles. Be it from just giving a few cows vaccines or having to get some shots himself, he was the one guy everybody knew who almost fainted at the sight.

Her big, strong, brother-like figure was scared of something as menial as needles. Although – she had to admit – the hero worship and major crush she had formed as a thirteen-year-old had still managed to stay strong until she had graduated to high school.

“I hate this movie,” he groaned after the needle had been removed from sight. “I hope he gets bitten; his kids better die too. All they do is complain.”

“Shh,” she hushed, too enveloped in the movie to even think about focusing on anything other than the creature outside of Brad Pitt's door.

So she watched, toes curling as all the zombies in B Wing started running at him. Hands fisting in the blanket on the recliner, her entire body tensed as the moment of truth finally came. He's gonna die. He's gonna die. Oh, my God, he is going to-