Chapter 16 #3
It doesn’t mean anything. He’s probably just being nice. I remind myself, but who are we kidding? Luka isn’t exactly the poster child for being nice.
Kind? Yes.
But nice? Absolutely not.
Unlike me, Luka doesn’t feel the need to do anything he doesn’t want to do.
He has no problem telling someone no or speaking up when he doesn’t agree with something.
He’s always been that way, always so confident of himself that he’s not bothered if someone doesn’t like him.
I suspect his steady upbringing has something to do with it, but I’m certainly no expert on human behavior.
He shrugs like it’s no big deal, like he already knows I’m overthinking his gesture in my head. “I figured a night like this called for a horror movie, so naturally, Psycho was the obvious choice.”
I swallow a gulp as the flutters in my belly return full force because Luka doesn’t like horror movies either.
I can’t help but feel like I’m willingly walking into a trap…
I’m relieved when the doorbell interrupts us before I can ask one of those burning questions. He steps to the side, allowing me to sit on the sofa. “That’s the pizza. I’ll be right back, don’t start it without me.”
Maybe he really feels sorry for me, and this is his attempt at burying the hatchet?
I may as well be asking myself the meaning of life, for as ambiguous of a question that is.
Whatever is going on with him, I can’t deny that it’s stirring up all kinds of feelings.
I snuggle into the soft throw blanket, feeling more seen in the past five minutes than I’ve felt in a very long time.
Tears sting behind my eyes, and I quickly blink them away just as Luka appears, holding a pizza in one hand and two Cherry Cokes in the other.
“Scoot.”
I slide over, moving the fluffy blanket out of the way to give him room, but rather than sitting on his side, he takes a seat in the middle.
I shouldn’t be surprised; the sofa is positioned to be the prime seating for movie watching.
Besides, it’s not like I haven’t been riding around pressed against him on the back of his bike all day.
It’s moments like this that my heart aches the most, the feeling of picking up exactly where we left off, only now there’s a charged heat in the air between us. A thick tension coiling beneath the surface, crackling and popping as it tightens the invisible cords that string us together.
Luka presses a button on the remote, and the room goes dark. Then the creepy music I know so well fills the silence, and I feel my tense body finally relax as a wave of nostalgia rolls over me. For the first time since I’ve been back, it finally feels like I’m home.
With my guard finally lowered, I settle in, feeling myself immersed in the movie.
My heartrate starts to spike in anticipation as the infamous shower scene begins.
I remember the first time I watched this movie—at a Kingsley family movie night, of course—I practically jumped out of my skin when he popped out of nowhere.
I could feel my body buzzing with adrenaline, and I’d never felt like that before. That was all it took. I was hooked. I’ve been chasing that high ever since.
Luka, on the other hand, had to sleep with a nightlight for weeks. I’m about to ask him if he remembers it, but when I turn to look at him, I find him staring back at me rather than at the gory scene before us. The sound of a woman screaming fills the silence.
“What are you looking at, creep?” I toss a piece of popcorn at him, hitting him straight in the forehead, but he doesn’t even flinch.
For a moment, he looks annoyed, and just when I think he’s about to flip his angry switch on me, he narrows his eyes and whispers, “You’re one to talk.
Who would guess that under that good girl exterior, you’re really just a little freak.
Does anyone else know that you smile during the murder parts? ”
There’s something so intoxicating about his tone, how he can shift the temperature of the room with only a few words.
I feel myself freeze, terrified and excited at the same time… just like I was in his parents’ kitchen the other night when he told me to pour out the glass of wine.
But then he grabs a handful of popcorn and tosses it at me, breaking whatever voodoo trance he had on me. And just like that, we’re back to the way we used to be.
My reaction is a little delayed, but I manage to duck just in time, dodging the flying kernels before I send a handful back at him, far more forcefully than his throw. “Why are you watching me when there’s a fantastic movie playing on the seventy-inch-high-definition screen in front of your face?”
“I was trying to, but I got creeped out when I saw how much you were enjoying it.” He grabs an even larger handful of popcorn and throws it at me, and this time, rather than ducking, I open my mouth, attempting to catch as many pieces as I can.
He reaches for another handful. I dive on top of the bowl, shielding it with my body. “Stop! Your hands are too big; you’re wasting it all!”
Luka’s up on his knees now, hands hovering over my hip bones as he gives me the opportunity to relent. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” His velvety tone is threatening and alluring all at the same time, and I feel my heart rate kick up in anticipation.
It feels like we’re innocent teenagers again, giggling and play-fighting. But the rush of warm tingles shooting between my thighs at the feel of his hands on me feels anything but innocent.
“Stop, Luka. I swear to God if you tickle me, I can’t be held responsible for your injuries,” I squeal, maintaining my coverage of the bowl.
His voice is like gravel as he whispers in my ear, “I think I’ll take my chances.” His chest presses against my back as he pins me down with his weight, and then his hand clamps down on my hip bone, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my core.
I open my mouth to laugh, but no sound comes out as my breath catches in my throat and my whole body locks up. Luka digs his fingers in deeper, finding my most ticklish spot in seconds as I suck in a lungful of air and the cackle finally breaks free.
There’s nothing cute or sexy about my laugh, especially this laugh that somehow Luka’s only managed to conjure out of me. It’s almost painful but feels amazing all the same, like he’s uncorking a blockage that only he could reach.
I feel years of sadness being siphoned out of my body as waves of rolling laughter fill all the cracks and crevices of my broken heart. It’s a healing laugh, one that comes up all the way from my toes, shaking away the stubborn blues that stain me from within.
“Now apologize for throwing food at me.”
Despite the effect his dreamy voice has on me, a squeal of laughter is the only response I can manage as I writhe beneath him, attempting to twist myself from his grip.
“You’re being difficult. Just say the word, and I’ll let you go,” he whispers, his warm breath on my neck sending a rush of goosebumps over my arms. I feel my nipples harden as my body purrs with excitement.
The word he’s referring to was something we used to say when we wanted the other to stop pretending and tell the truth. Thin Mints. It was a play on my being a Girl Scout and the fact that Luka hates all things mint chocolate chip. Though I’m finding it hard to believe he still remembers that…
I’m momentarily stunned as I’m suddenly aware of every inch of his skin that touches my own, aware of the thin fabric of his t-shirt that’s loosely risen up my stomach, aware that only a couple of inches of fabric are separating my bare breast from his view, and my sensitive nipples are practically begging to be touched.
Aware of how I’ve all but wiggled out of his ginormous sweatpants, and that his hands are now gripping my bare skin.
My breathing is slower now as I heave deep breaths, feeling my blood rush to keep up with my body’s ever-growing urges. This little game just went from playfully innocent to something… not… in just a matter of seconds.
Luka must feel it too because I feel his grip on my hip loosen, replaced by the gentle caress of his thumb, that dips beneath the hem of the underwear I’m wearing.
I breathe in a gasp when he shifts on top of me, and I can feel the warmth of his breath on my neck. My traitorous body tilts my head to give him better access, as if she’s opening herself up to him all on her own.
“You stopped fighting me… does that mean you surrender?” he whispers against the shell of my ear, and then I feel his hard length pressed against my thigh.
The sound of another woman being murdered is drowned out by the rain, and somehow, all I can focus on is my pounding heartbeat in my ears.
I should stop this… shouldn’t I? I could just say the word and he’d stop.
It’s not like we haven’t played this game a million times before, but there is a part of me—my inner freak I suppose—that is curious about what would happen if I didn’t give in. What would he do then?
I think I get my answer when his thumb swipes beneath my underwear, this time stretching even lower than before. His other hand pins my wrist above my head as he stares down at me, his eyes searching mine for any signs of my discomfort.
My t-shirt rises a little higher as I heave a breath, feeling Luka’s eyes heat my skin as he watches me like a lion watches its prey. His eyes are dilated so large you can hardly see the green, and his nostrils flare like it’s taking a great deal of restraint to hold himself back.
“Say it, Scout,” he practically pleads, like he wants me to put him out of his misery, like he physically can’t do it without me telling him to.
“I…” I swallow the lump lodged in my throat and wet my lips. His eyes flash to my mouth, and I feel his thumb move over me again. This time, venturing even lower grazing the top of my freshly shaved mound.
His teeth clamp shut, and his muscles grow tighter when he realizes that new detail about me. The sight of his reaction does something to me, and I can’t imagine what it’d be like to watch him really touch me… or taste me.
No one’s ever done that to me before—not really anyway. Jimmy went down on me for about ten seconds one drunken night in college, but it was too sensitive; it almost hurt. Once he realized it wasn’t doing anything for me, he never offered to do it again.
I shake my head, realizing I’m once again thinking about Jimmy.
Luka’s voice is all gravel and lust when he says, “You’re killing me here, Scout. I’m begging you, say the word before I?—”
Before I what?
I guess I’ll never know, because before he can finish his sentence, a bolt of lightning strikes so close it lights up the whole room. A sharp crack of thunder follows, shaking the walls and rattling the windows.
Then everything goes black.
The silence between us is deafening. The only sounds are our uneven breaths. Nerves flutter in my stomach as tension coils through me.
Is he going to kiss me?
Do I want him to?
He exhales a heavy sigh, and I can’t tell if it’s relief or disappointment… maybe a little of both, and then he slowly climbs off me.
“Come on,” he murmurs. “Let’s get you to bed. The emergency generator should kick on any minute now.”
Right on cue, the power flickers back to life, but the moment’s gone. And so is his cocky smirk. It’s as if whatever was building between us short-circuited with the lights, giving us a hard reset.
Disappointment scorches through me like a branding iron. I shouldn’t feel this way. He’s never promised me anything. But rejection has a way of wearing you down, and I’m tired of pretending it doesn’t hurt.
Sometimes, I just wish someone wanted me. Really wanted me. For me.
But I guess some things never change.
I don’t take his hand when he offers it. “I think I can manage.”