Page 12 of Until We're More
I’d been telling the truth when I said I missed watching action flicks, but it wasn’t exactly the movie part I had a hankering for. I mean, seriously, all the bad guys took turns fighting the hero when they’d have a much better chance of jumping him at once—either the villains were the dumbest or…yeah, they were the dumbest.
Those lackeys are clearly never going to become supervillains. Supervillains know when to fight and when to occupy the hero with their goons so they can get on with the evil-genius stuff.
Maybe that was my problem. I was fine with superhero movies, especially the Marvel ones. Their enhanced powers made it easy to buy their taking on multiple people at a time, and bonus, the actors were all eye-candy awesome, which was why Brooklyn and I usually went to them together. Liam preferred more “realistic” action movies, and he and Finn rolled their eyes at the tight superhero uniforms, which were perfection, in my opinion. Brooklyn’s, too.
But I digress.
The real reason I missed action movies had more to do with the way the light radiating from the screen lit up Liam’s features, emphasizing his strong profile while somehow softening it at the same time. If I hadn’t witnessed it for myself, I might’ve thought it impossible, so maybe I should give the bad guys onscreen who were still fighting the hero one at a time a break. It wasn’t likeIhad any fighting experience. Liam, on the other hand, had a lot in that realm. In the cage, anyway. Thank goodness he fought only one guy at a time, because that was enough to fray my nerves and leave me with heart palpitations. I also spent the weeks leading up to his fights stress eating. Since that happened to be when he was cutting weight, I hid it as much as possible, already feeling bad enough he couldn’t indulge in raw cookie dough and inordinate amounts of potato chips with me.
Swords clashed onscreen—is one of them a samurai? Did I miss a vital plot element, or did they not bother explaining because they figured it’d look cool?
Maybe the swords were above the fireplace?I must’ve missed something during the combative staring match I’d had with the teenager who begrudged me for being thirsty.
The hero dodged and weaved. The top goon—not to be mistaken for the head bad guy, who’d already fled to do more evil—got a jab in, a side hit that would probably hurt like hell but mean nothing in action movie land, and the good guy lunged toward him instead of using practical survival skills and dislodging the sword in his side.
He grabbed the bad guy’s hand over the hilt, jerked him forward, and head butted him.
Blood poured from the goon’s nose, and while everyone else made noises from theoh,ouch,and swear word side of the spectrum, Liam chuckled. The hero removed the sword from his side, whipped the blade in the other direction, and jabbed it right through the center of the bad dude’s chest, the kind of strike there was no coming back from.
And Liam laughed again. While plenty of people thought MMA fighters were super violent—and maybe a few were, although I’d met way more who were just superior athletes—that definitely wasn’t Liam. I think he simply enjoyed a well-executed hit.
The girl seated on his other side checked him out again. She’d flirted with him while we’d been in line at the concession stand, and she’d puckered her lips and pushed out her chest as she’d asked if the seats next to him were saved for anyone. Annoying for sure, but he’d encouraged me to score a date with Kevin mere hours ago, so I held back the daggered glare I wanted to give the unbelievably pretty girl with the exotic eyes and perfectly straight dark hair. Not that I could pull off a scowl that’d make her back off anyway. In fact, when Liam had introduced me while we’d been standing in line, she looked at me like I must be some adorable pet project of his. I was used to it. In theory. Guess I forgot the way it made bile churn in my stomach or how it awoke those stupid insecurities I tried to pretend no longer existed.
While I’d come a long way, elementary and junior high had been a special form of torture. I’d been all legs, knees, and elbows, and my bright, curly red hair had been out of control—and that wasbeforeSan Diego’s humidity. It was why I’d constantly shoved it in a bun. So even though I’d grown into my body and learned how to tame the frizz a bit, part of me would always be the girl who ducked her head and avoided people so I could pretend that I was in control of not having friends.
My mom hadn’t been married to my dad, who was never in the picture and didn’t want to be. Although it’d been rough, she and I had managed alone until she fell in love with a man who lived in San Diego. After their wedding, we’d moved in with Jesse and his two kids, our goal a fresh start. Liam had been part of that, and his constant presence had definitely helped cut down the snide comments. I knew, because people weren’t nearly as kind whenever he wasn’t by my side.
I’m a strong, confident woman. Who totally got a guy’s number today.
As much as it’d stung when Liam told me to take a job in another city instead of asking me to stay, he’d been right about it being good for me. It had forced me to learn how to be okay with who I was on my own, and it made me step out of my comfort zone and stretch and grow.
If only it’d made my insecurities completely disappear.
I sipped my Coke, earning yet another befuddled look from the teen, and when I reached over to grab a handful of popcorn from the bucket in Liam’s lap, I noticed the large cup in the holder at the end of the armrest.
No, no, no, no, no.
Even though I knew Liam had bought a bottled water—which was nestled in the cupholder to his right—I took a sip of the soda, hoping it wasn’t Coke so it wouldn’t mean…
Yep. Coke.
I cringed, my face heating as I turned to the teenage boy. “I’m so sorry. I thought that was my soda, and—”
“You can have it,” he said, recoiling from the cup like I might’ve infected it with my germs. Which I suppose I kinda, sorta had. Not that I had any gross germs right now. Not thatIwould drink after a stranger.
Knowingly, I guess I should add, since I’d done exactly that.
I twisted toward Liam, ducked my head on his chest, and groaned.
“Is the blood and gore getting to you?” he asked, his voice low. “Or was there some unforgiveable plot hole?”
“I’m mortified.”
“Why? You didn’t write the movie. Unless you’ve been holding out on me.”
I lifted my head, meeting Liam’s gaze. “I’ll tell you after,” I whispered.
Concern pinched his features. “What happened? Do I need to kill someone?”
