Page 58 of Don't Make Me Beg
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.
