Chapter 5
Chapter Five
“I’m sorry about Friday night,” Brandon said from where he sat next to me in the dimly lit theater.
We had just found seats after hitting the concession stand for popcorn and drinks.
“It’s just that you’re so beautiful and I’ve had a crush on you for so long.
” He put his hand on my knee as his eyes met mine.
“All the alcohol made my control slip, and for that, I’m sorry. ”
I wasn’t used to someone apologizing. An overwhelming part of me had this urge to tell him it was all right even though I knew it wasn’t. It was what I always wanted others to say when I apologized, but it usually fell on deaf ears, and I’d have to hide new bruises the next day.
“I hope you’ll forgive me,” he said, which set off an urgency to accept. To make him happy, and with that, keep Mother happy.
“It’s all right.” The words felt hollow.
Not that he seemed to notice or care. He looked relieved.
His hand left my knee as he faced the big screen.
There was still time before the movie started.
People were still coming in and finding where to sit.
We had chosen seats a few rows from the back.
Brandon wanted to sit in the very back row, but I was uncomfortable with that.
We were seeing a horror movie. With it being the middle of the day, I didn’t foresee a lot of people filling the theater.
Being isolated all the way in the back row in a dark room with him was something I wanted to avoid.
Especially after how handsy he’d gotten Friday night.
I’d made up an excuse about not being able to see. It was pathetic, but he’d compromised.
He held out the bucket of buttery popcorn to me. “Want some?”
I put my hand on my stomach. “I had a large brunch with my mother. I’m still so full, I couldn’t eat another bite,” I lied.
He seemed to accept that and returned his attention to the screen, which was advertising all the delicious-looking junk we had just seen at the concession stand.
Brandon grabbed a whole fistful of popcorn and started stuffing it into his mouth.
I reached for the water bottle I’d gotten as my drink and unscrewed the cap.
As I took sips from it, I glanced around the theater.
My eyes caught on a man wearing a jean vest that I’d seen the Haven’s Rebels wear coming up the stairs behind a lady with wild but beautiful, long, curly brown hair.
I took in the patches he had sewn on the front of his vest. On one side, above his heart, was a logo.
It was a front view of a masked skeleton riding a motorcycle.
Above it said Haven’s and below it said Rebels.
On the other side of the vest was a patch that read President.
I was pretty sure that meant he was the leader or boss of the Haven’s Rebels.
I was a little in awe even as I was nervous. Some people liked to call the Haven’s Rebels a gang. There were a lot of rumors about them. Rarely good ones.
The MC president looked young. He had to be in his late thirties to early forties, and was tall with a muscular build.
His hair was bright blond and long enough to be pulled back into a man bun.
His beard was a few inches long but looked well kept.
His arms and the tops of his hands were fully covered in tattoos.
He wore leather and silver chain bracelets on one wrist, a black wedding band on his left hand, and chunky silver rings on his right.
“Want to sit in the back?” I heard the lady with him ask.
“Sure,” he replied as he scanned the theater. His gaze landed on me for a split second before continuing on. Then it doubled back to me. His eyes locked with mine. I could have sworn his widened before he stumbled a little on his way up the stairs.
The lady he was with glanced back at him with a smile. “You gotta lift those legs, Bram.”
“Keep moving,” he grumbled back, making her chuckle.
I faced the screen and busied myself by putting the cap back on my water bottle. It had been rude to stare at him like that, and yet I was tempted to do it again. Especially when he and the lady, who I assumed was his wife, sat in the row right behind us.
“I thought it’d be busier,” I heard the lady say.
“Scary movies are better at night,” the MC president responded. His voice reminded me of thunder. It was deep, rumbly, and drew attention when heard.
“True,” the lady said back. She had a softer, calming voice.
The lights dimmed and the trailers started.
Brandon commented on a few of the upcoming movies by whispering which ones he thought looked good or bad.
I couldn’t remember a single one or the beginning of the movie.
All I could focus on was the feeling like I was being watched by the intimidating man sitting behind me.
Midway through the movie, the main character, who was a sorority girl, was making out with her boyfriend on her bed while the killer murdered one of her sorority sisters downstairs.
Brandon leaned close and his hand found its way back onto my knee.
“Are you scared?” he whispered, lips close to my ear.
I shook my head.
The couple on the screen began stripping and it was obvious where things were headed. Moans filled the theater.
I wanted to roll my eyes. Typical slasher.
Brandon’s hand moved up to my inner thigh and his lips touched my ear. “This is kinda hot.”
I gave him a stiff smile and returned my attention to the screen, hoping he’d take the gentle rejection.
He didn’t.
I should have known better than to hope.
His lips grazed my ear again as he whispered, “I want to kiss you so bad.”
Eyes unblinking and pinned to the movie screen, not seeing a damn thing, I kept still. I didn’t know how to respond.
“Lottie.” His hand came up to grasp my chin as if to turn my face toward his.
I quickly grabbed him by the wrist, stopping him.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I only turned my head slightly to look at him, but not enough for him to kiss me or whatever else he had been planning to do.
He was frowning and I knew I had messed up.
“I’m sorry.” I felt so stuck, I had to blink away the burn in my eyes.
His expression was harsh and his eyes were narrowed as he stared back at me.
Then he pulled away to sit right in his seat.
He gave his attention back to the screen with a still-annoyed look on his face.
Tension began to build between us, and I could feel myself spiraling into a full-on panic. He was upset. Mother would find out.
Before I started freaking out right then and there, I got up.
Brandon grabbed me by my forearm so quick, I flinched. “Where are you going?” he didn’t bother whispering.
I ducked low so I wasn’t blocking the screen for the biker and his wife sitting behind us. “I need to use the restroom. I’ll be right back.”
He let me go and reached to grab my purse from where I’d left it in the empty seat next to mine. “I’ll watch your bag.”
I nodded and left the theater as quickly as I could without it looking like I was running away. Not that I could without my purse.
I rushed to the ladies’ restroom. It appeared empty.
I beelined to one of the sinks and washed my hands on autopilot—my mind was elsewhere.
It was in hell. It was imagining all the times I had endured pain due to my failures.
Each time replayed in my head, and it was getting harder and harder to breathe.
I could hear my heaving for air echoing off the tile walls until it was drowned out by the thumping of my heart in my ears.
Feeling lightheaded, I grabbed the edge of the counter with wet hands and squatted.
Still holding onto the counter, I closed my eyes and breathed, “It’s going to be okay.
It’s going to be okay.” I squeezed onto that counter tight enough to make my hands hurt.
I zeroed in on that pain and used it to anchor myself until the storm passed.
I knew what I had to do.
I knew what was expected of me.
You have to fix it.
You have to.
I stayed that way until my breathing came easier. If anyone came into the restroom, I didn’t notice, and no one asked if I was okay.
I didn’t know if it was because I was emotionally spent and numb or what, but I stood.
My body felt weak and shaky. Pushing through it, I looked myself over in the mirror to make sure I was presentable.
I adjusted my sweater and necklace before heading for the exit.
As soon as I walked out of the restroom and went to turn down the hall leading back to the theater where Brandon waited for me, I collided with someone.
Big hands caught me by my upper arms so I wouldn’t fall backward and helped steady me.
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly as I tilted my head up to see who I had bumped into. I met greenish hazel eyes that looked so familiar. Then I took in the rest of the person and saw it was the MC president.
My stomach dropped. Oh, no!
His gaze roamed all over my face as if studying every detail. “Are you all right?”
“Yes! I’m so sorry for bumping into you.” I couldn’t help the panic in my voice. “I should have paid better attention.”
“It’s okay, kid.” His tone was calm and reassuring. “You’re too small to do much damage to me.”
Even though he was an intimidating man, his forgiveness and voice eased my worry.
His hands, which had yet to release me, gave my arms a gentle squeeze. “You’re very thin.”
It came out as more of a concerned observation than just a comment to back up how small I was compared to him. The concern was such a surprise that I didn’t know how to react. Should I be offended? Mother would have taken it as a compliment.
I stepped back and his hands dropped from my arms as if I’d burned them.