Page 46 of Protect Me
I snorted.
“Leaving is for wimps.”
“You speak so confidently,” he sang, shooting me a wink. “But I’m telling you, this monster movie is something else. Just real enough to be totally creepy.”
My hesitation had far less to do with the Hollywood-made monsters on the screen, and everything to do with the hulk of a man that I wanted to wrap in my arms and never let go. The sort of monster that Vikram inspired in my life was a different kind of horror movie altogether.
Vikram wouldn’t take kindly to me pasting my body to his, I would imagine.
Or maybe . . .
I stopped that thought as soon as it came. That was one tree I had no business barking up. At least, in monster movies, I didn’t have to worry about romance. Sappy love scenes. Watching a tender first kiss between two lovers while Vikram lounged at my side might rob all my air.
While tired advertisements shuffled through the screen, I quizzed Vik on his top ten ranking of monster movies, starting with country of origin and B-rank status. Plenty of guffaws, challenges, and laughs later, the lights dimmed until they turned off. Unable to help it, my muscles clenched. I pressed my middle finger to my palm, let out a deep breath, thought of Vini, and molded into the seat.
More quickly than usual, the discomfort began to fade. Vik placed his arm against mine on the rest and the warm touch of his skin melted away the uncertainty.
The movie flashed by in subdued tones at first, a story about a girl and her best friend in a creepy forest. Lost, they wandered in fog, stalked by an animal that wasn’t quite earthly. During a predictable—but still shocking—jump scare, I squeaked and grabbed the chair arm. Vik’s hand instantly clamped around mine, secure and reassuring. Heat flooded my cheeks, but embarrassment faded into the dizzying allure of his warm palm. The long, strong fingers.
His touch whisked my breath away. I didn’t even have room to scream when a half-bear, half-humanoid monster appeared from the shadows and bit the best friend’s face off in a putridcrunchof bone.
My air had been taken.
Stolen.
I gave it so willingly.
While Vik chuckled over an equally grisly closing scene where the remaining girl killed the monster with a knife buried all the way into its gurgling throat, I sat there like a beating heart, all thuds. Pounds. Blasts. Vikram grabbed my hand—then didn’t let go for over half an hour now. Alerts flashed like a ticker tape through my mind.
Warning.
Warning.
Warning.
No, I told the frightened voice.This is different.
Vikram wasn’t a violent approach. No sneak attack in the dark, rainy night. Vikram simply held my hand to provide a tender comfort. A glance at his profile revealed a man absorbed in a monster movie, which hardly classified the hand-holding as something special. He’d probably forgotten.
His touchy nature, kindness to me, and brotherly protectiveness created a formula that looked and felt like interest, but couldn’t possibly be.
Fool’s gold.
Only I wouldn’t be the fool again.
As the credits ran across the screen, I surreptitiously untangled our fingers as I pretended to stretch. He glanced over, one hand held up in question.
“Well?” he drawled.
My already-wrung out heart managed one last gasp of agonized disbelief at his natural beauty.
“Three out of five stars,” I quipped through a yawn, hoping to cover the strangled sound. He tilted his head back and laughed. I looked away, far too tempted to run my fingers down his neck.
“Too predictable?”
“They all are,” I said with a wider smile that might have appeared a bittooforced. The lights flickered back to low lumination, revealing a couple ahead of us that snuck in during the opening credits. The woman stood, glanced up, then did a fast double-take. Even in the dim theater, I could see the brightness of a pristine smile.
“Vik?”
