“I think we should split up,” he breathed in my ear. It was wet and hot and felt so gross in the cold and dry night air.
I took a step back from him, putting some distance between his breath, which smelled like the sausage and garlic pizza we’d had for dinner, and nudged his arm impatiently. “No. We won’t get out of here any faster.”
“You don’t know that.”
“What happens in damned near every horror movie? They split up, and people start dying.”
“This is real life, not a horror movie.”
“They say THAT in the movies too.”