Page 45 of Protect Me
Hesitation stole back over me. Dark theater? Ah, no thanks. Unpredictable shadows. People milling around. Unless you sat at the back, you had nothing firm behind you. The exits were far away. The rules let out a riotous squeal of protest. They didn’t like this idea. Rule two—never in the dark—and seven—never go on a date alone—in particular.
I shook myself out of that spiral.
No.
This wasn’t the scary, made-up world that existed in my head, always ready to kill me. This was a movie with Vikram, of all people. Recovering from surgery or not, there was no one else in the world that would keep me safer. Our earlier conversation about summer, and my embarrassing lack offunplans, pushed me further into the nudge.
How long had it been since I’d stepped foot in a movie theater, anyway? Time for some healthy boundary changes.
“Yeah,” I said with more conviction. “I’d really enjoy that. Especially today.”
“Today? Did something happen?”
Realizing my slip, I waved a hand with a laugh. “Oh, no. Just . . . it would be nice to have a change of scenery, that’s all.”
A huge grin split his face. “Then let’s do it. There’s a fantastic new monster movie playing in two hours. We have time to eat, leave the mess, and head over. You down?”
I returned the smile, eager for a new adventure.
One that felt so safe.
“Let’s do it.”
The last movie that I’d gone into a dark theater to watch had been an animated one, two weeks before Timothy assaulted me. The low lights, escape into the screen, and swelling soundtrack had been so fun.
About a year after Timothy’s assault, I attempted moviegoing again. The room felt too dark, the walls too close, the strangers too near. I sat in my chair for all of thirty seconds, then strolled right back out.
I hadn’t returned.
Tonight, my entire body tightened in anticipation of a narrowing reaction. The fright in my chest. Fluttering stomach. Clammy hands. Darting eyes. Yet . . . none showed. Only a gentle burr in my chest, a discomfort. I attributed the lack of anxiety to the powerful shoulders at my side, the warm curl of Vikram’s voice right next to me.
“Monster movies are so much more advanced these days,” he tutted under his breath. “Let me know if you get freaked out. They put what you and Vini used to watch into preschool.”
I scoffed.
He laughed.
His credit card captured both our tickets. Before I could protest, he silenced me with a look that reminded me so much of Appa, I laughed. The tips of his fingers guided the small of my back as we navigated the theater. Our arms brushed with every third or fourth step. He remained at my side, a stolid presence that banished all of those other thoughts.
For the first time in a while, I breathed freely in public.
The theater smelled like overheated popcorn and red-hots. The whir and hiss of a soda machine, along with the distant wail of a baby, bounced around the walls. I gazed around the almost empty place, my arm brushing lightly against his again. Chills slipped all the way through me.
“Hardly anyone is here,” I murmured, relieved for the open space. Not only did it make it easier to watch for Timothy in case he popped up, but to canvas for other threats. Vikram looked around, startled, as if he hadn’t noticed.
“Should be a quiet night.”
With a gentle touch, he put a hand on my elbow to turn me into the right theater. My stomach quivered, though he let go as soon as I followed. He hovered close, always close enough to touch. Vik had always been that way. I’d been able to convince myself that it didn’t mean anything—the man would cuddle with a rock, given the chance—but tonight Iwantedthe fluttering caresses to mean something.
“Well,” he murmured as we emerged from the tunnel into the showroom “Look at that. All to ourselves.”
Relief weakened me.
“The rule for every monster movie,” he said as he started up the low-slung stairs, “is to sit in the very middle.”
“Why the middle?”
“So you aren’t tempted to leave in shame and humiliation and fright, of course. You will be cajoled if you leave.”
