Page 52 of Scarred Bratva King

The kind of glances that make my skin prickle, though his expression remains as unreadable as ever.

“Are you even watching the movie?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement.

“Of course,” I lie, keeping my tone casual.

“Then what just happened?” His lips curve slightly, teasing me.

I squint at the screen, wracking my brain for a plausible answer. The plot has been background noise to my constant awareness of him, and now I’m paying the price. “Uh... the guy... did a thing.”

Maxim snorts, the sound more genuine than his usual composed chuckles. I feel the vibrations against my cheek, and it takes everything in me not to grin. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“And you’re a terrible couch,” I shoot back, sitting up slightly to glare at him. The movement shifts his bowl of popcorn, spilling a few kernels onto his lap.

He looks down at the mess, then back at me, one brow raised. “You’re not helping your case.”

I pluck a piece of popcorn from his thigh and pop it into my mouth. “I’m an excellent couch critic, thank you very much.”

His lips twitch, and for a moment, I think he’s going to retaliate, but instead, he leans back, stretching an arm across the back of the couch in a casual gesture. “Alright then, expert,” he says, nodding toward the screen. “What do you think of this movie?”

I glance at the TV. “It’s… fine,” I say slowly.

His gaze sharpens, and I can see the challenge in his eyes. “Fine? That’s it? Wow, Ebert’s got nothing on you.”

“Yeah, fine,” I repeat, sitting up straighter. “Like, I get it. Everyone’s cool and brooding, and the dialogue is snappy, but do we really need fifteen minutes of blood splatter in slow motion?”

His smirk widens, the kind that says he’s just found a new way to push my buttons. “That’s called style. Tarantino built an entire career on it.”

“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes, fully facing him now. “Style is one thing, but it’s just indulgent at this point. Did we really need a close-up of someone’s bare feet for three minutes?”

“It was five seconds.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “You don’t get it. Those little indulgences are what make movies unique. They’re like signatures.”

I gesture to the screen, where someone’s delivering a monologue about killing bringing you closer to God. “Leaninginto the absurd is fine, but it’s like he’s screaming, ‘Look at me, I’m a genius!’ every five seconds. It’s exhausting.”

Maxim tilts his head, considering me. “So what, you prefer movies that play it safe? No risks, no flair? Want me to find something Hallmark?”

“Not a bad idea,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. “I just don’t think you need to beat the audience over the head with your style to make a point. Take someone like Scorsese. His movies have flair, but they don’t feel like they’re trying so hard.”

“Scorsese?” Maxim echoes, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You’re comparingGoodfellasto this? That’s apples and oranges.”

“Not really,” I argue, crossing my arms. “Scorsese has restraint. He lets the story breathe. This is just chaos.”

“Controlled chaos,” he counters, leaning closer. “Which is the point. Life isn’t neat and tidy. It’s messy, unpredictable, and sometimes absurd.”

I bite my lip, trying not to smile. “Oh, so now you’re a philosopher of pop culture?”

He grins, the expression lighting up his face in a way that makes my stomach flip. “You started it. But fine, since you’re so critical, what’s your favorite movie, then?”

I hesitate, knowing whatever I say will fuel this debate further. “The Truman Show,” I finally admit, bracing for his reaction.

Maxim blinks, caught off guard. “The Truman Show? Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.” I lift my chin. “It’s got everything: romance, adventure, comedy, sword fights?—”

“I don’t remember the sword fights,” he interrupts, though there’s no real bite in his tone. “You just complained about indulgence, and now you’re defendingThe Truman Show?”

“It’s charming!” I argue. “And it doesn’t take itself too seriously. Plus, it has heart.”

He shakes his head, his smirk softening into something fond. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone describe a movie as ‘charming’ in an argument.”

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