Page 17 of Cruel Legacy

I could’ve played a DVD in the entertainment room in the lounge, or in my dorm room, but there’s nothing like seeing a movie on a big screen with massive surround sound.

They’re playing a midnight screening of one of my favorite movies, Takers. I’ve seen it like a dozen times, but there was no way I was passing this up.

The theater’s relatively empty. That means I get to stretch my legs out on the back of the seat in front of me while I watch the movie and eat my snacks.

I’m just about settled in my seat, when a pair of tits catches my eye. It takes me a second to place her. She’s the girl from the hallway. The one who was giving all sorts of attitude to Pax.

I didn’t get a good look at her before, since I was in alpha mode. Tonight, she’s sporting baggy jeans and a hoody with the brim of a ball cap sticking out of it, looking like some kind of B-Boy.

I wait until she grabs a chair in the middle of the row ahead of me, then gather up my stuff. I know how cool I look when I hop over the chair and slide into the seat next to her.

She checks me out, trying to mask her interest behind this whole, I’m looking but not looking,facade. I’m used to it. I stretch like I’m getting comfortable, letting my shirt ride up to expose my lower abs. Girls love abs.

The lights dim, and she says, “If you’re a talker, move the fuck over right now.”

She grabs the popcorn off the chair next to her with her right hand, and pulls something from the pocket of her hoody with her left, before slouching down a little in her chair.

The light from the movie screen glistens off the flask in her hand. The distinct scent of spiced rum hits my nose. I watch as she pours a measured shot into her cup, gives it a little shake, then takes a sip.

Shit, why didn’t I think of that? Booze is exactly what would make this movie experience better. The movie’s about to start, but my gaze keeps drifting to her pocket where the flask is, and she’s staring at the licorice whip in my hand.

I wave it around and point at the flask. She pulls the licorice from my hand and passes me the tiny silver bottle.

I pour a generous amount in my cup. Her brow arches when I go to hand it back and she snags another licorice. I guess the amount of rum I poured was worth two of them for payment.

We sit through the movie in silence, but I can tell she’s just as into it as I am. She’s biting her lip, her eyes flick around the screen, and she makes this weird little noise when the protagonists come on screen.

Her body’s damn near vibrating with excitement. I’ve seen this movie dozens of times, but I’m hyped too. It’s an amazing movie and if I were cast in it, I’d be the guy in the Fedora, playing the piano. I definitely have his charisma and charm. But I’m also wily, like the guy jumping off buildings and over turnstiles, avoiding the cops and shit.

I reach my hand down and hit the empty bottom of my popcorn bucket. Shit. I must’ve been eating it faster than usual, thanks to the salt craving that accompanies me drinking rum and coke. The girl’s still got half of the jumbo size. She must sense me looking at her. She turns her head a little while still trying to keep her eyes on the screen.

“What?”

I shake my bucket. “Share?”

“No.”

Now there’s a word I’m not used to hearing. That’s because no one ever uses it with me. I tell people what I want. They give it to me willingly, or I take it. But she’s new around here and sometimes I have manners, so I say, “Please.”

“Nope.”

She doesn’t just leave it with a no. She grabs a kernel and makes this huge production about bringing it to her mouth and exaggerates her chewing.

When she goes to do it again, I snatch her hand, bring it to my mouth and grab the popcorn from her fingers. Licking all the butter and salt off of them.

I take advantage of her shock and dump a bunch of the buttery crack into my bucket, then turn my attention back to the thieves on the screen. If she wants to take this popcorn back, she’ll have to reach between my legs to get it.

I shift in my seat. If she doesthat, we’ll be sharing something else that goes pop.

Chapter9

Thea

Well, there goes an hour of my time I can’t get back, I think as I push through the heavy auditorium doors and step into the stifling hot air.

New Student Orientation was just as useless as the online orientation I did last month. At least that one explained school rules and where to find resources around campus. Today’s orientation seemed like a poorly coordinated excuse for the various school organizations to talk about themselves.

I make it three steps before a commotion behind me has me turning back around to see what’s happening. If shit’s popping off, I need to know, so I can catalogue the trouble makers and know how fast I need to move to a safe location.

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