Page 10 of Her Wicked Knights
Tripprollshiseyesas a group of girls pass us by, giggling to themselves without trying to hide how obviously they're checking us out.
"What?" I laugh, unable to hide the grin as I turn to see him staring dispassionately at the one who deliberately made eye contact with him as she turned around.
"You're insufferable." he shakes his head, letting out a soft sigh. "Did you hear what the one in red said as she passed?"
"No," I lie, watching his face as he rolls his eyes again. I heard him, but I absolutely want to hear him repeat what she said.
"She said she wants to dip you in honey and lick you clean." Realizing how absurd it is, he laughs and launches a piece of popcorn at my head. "You love the attention, don't you?"
I shrug, not wanting to lie to him. I do like the attention. It's the only thing that makes me feel complete... the only thing that feeds the hole in my life. Whatever it is that's missing, the attention of a girl (or guy) who is willing to help me find release eases the ache for a little while. I'm no therapist, but it's probablysomething to do with my lack of a mother or my miserable excuse for a father.
"Maybe I should go give her my number." I say, glancing back to where the girls have disappeared through the crowd into one of the theaters. They're probably here for a rom-com.
We drove an hour out of town to go to the release of this movie— a movie I know nothing about. But I lied to Tripp, convinced him that I was actually a big fan of sci-fi movies, and now we're here, settling into our seats in the crowded theater. I offered Colton to join us, but he was less than enthusiastic in his dismissal, and I'm not entirely sad about having the time with Tripp alone.
"She can be your Thursday girl." Tripp says, glancing at his phone before sliding it into the cup holder.
"Thursdays are for the guys." I tell him with a grin.
In truth, I don't have someone in my bed every night, and I don't relegate the guys to a certain day of the week. I take what I can get when I can get it— which is, admittedly, often. There's something to be said for faking it ‘til you make it. I learned long ago to pretend I always knew what I was talking about, to pretend that I was confident and self-assured. And I think somewhere along the way, by pretending, it kind of became a habit.
Except, it's not a habit when it comes to him.
Tripp makes me nervous, and I'll never admit that to him lest it ruin this friendship we have. I'll risk almost anything when I want something, but there are exceptions and limitations to what I'll do, the lengths I'll go to, the relationships I will sacrifice.
"Well, thank you for giving them up tonight to be here." Tripp grins, the right side of his mouth lifting higher than the left.
"Are you kidding?" I laugh. "I love Michael Bay."
His nose scrunched as he appraises me, and then the smirk in the corner of his lips deepens. "This isn't a Michael Bay film."
"No?" I muse, glancing up at the screen, which is set on a preview of another movie. "Well, there's no one I'd rather see a not-Michael Bay film with."
"I know there's at least one," he laughs. "But it's fine. I'm not the jealous type."
I don't bother correcting him or calling him out on that lie when the lights dim further.
Some girl in front of us chooses that exact moment to laugh loudly enough that it eclipses the introductory music. Just a laugh would be one thing, but it turns to a squeal, followed by more laughter. Tripp takes the opportunity to lob another piece of popcorn, and I catch the back of the girl's head with an M&M as the guy next to her pulls her in for a tentative kiss.
Just as the movie begins, the screen lights up enough to let me see the girl in better detail— her red hair in the guys' fingers as she kisses him back. I'm too stunned to speak, and a glance at Tripp confirms everything I think I'm seeing.
"Down in front!" Someone yells, tossing an empty water bottle toward them.
Audrey yelps, covering her head as the bottle ricochets off the seat in front of her. I grab Tripp by the collar as Jake turns around, and before he can get a good look at us, I press my mouth to his.
He tastes like salt and butter as I devour him, refusing to let go in case Jake were to spot us.
If I'm honest, that's not the reason I refuse to let go. It's not the reason I kiss him a moment longer than necessary.
I don't let him up for air until a glance out of the corner of my eye assures me Jake has turned back around to face the movie screen, which has begun playing the introductory credits sequence. I only let myself look at Tripp for a minute afterI release him, afraid to see hatred or disgust in his eyes, but needing to know whether I can push him further or whether I should back off.
There isn't hatred or disgust when I meet his soft brown eyes, though. All I see there is confusion, maybe a little fear judging by the way his pupils are dilated, his chest heaving. Fear or arousal, but it's too much to hope that it's the latter.
I pluck a piece of popcorn from the top of the bucket and slip it past his parted lips, watching as he realizes he's staring at me and promptly snaps his mouth closed. I chuckle, turning to the screen with a lot less indifference than I'm letting on.
He stares at me for a moment, his eyes burning into the side of my face, but I don't dare look at him, trying to focus on the film.
When the intro music ends and the theater quiets down, he finally tears his eyes from me, looking ahead to the movie.
