He reached back into the popcorn bucket, digging around before coming up with another huge handful of my soul.
If I’m going to be honest here, I should admit that I was still pissed at Devin for ditching me the whole week and missing the engagement party. I’d spoken to him a few times, long enough to learn that his “important conference” had turned into more of a golf week with the other movers and shakers in the media world. Understandably, I knew that the biggest deals took place on the greens, yada, yada, yada, but I had the sneaking suspicion that my fiancé knew full well that he’d been signing up for more “meetings” at Pebble Beach than actual boardrooms. And I childishly used that anger about being so unjustifiably snubbed to let myself enjoy my tingling pink parts.
Trip dove into the popcorn again and I wiped the drool from my lip as I tried to concentrate on the movie. He managed to shut up long enough that I actually got really into it. It was a mystery/thriller with a fair share of action, but it also had this whole social-commentary thing going on. It was good. He was good. It reminded me of the first time I’d ever seen him act, onstage in the auditorium of our high school, during a stage production of Guys and Dolls. Holy crap. I couldn’t believe how good I thought he was then. And he was, don’t get me wrong, Trip was really great in that play. I’m sure it was hard for anyone back in Norman to forget sitting in the dark of our school’s auditorium, watching him onstage during our senior year spring musical, least of all me.
But Trip in Swayed? My God. He was amazing.
I was fixated on the screen. So much so that I almost—almost—forgot I was actually sitting next to him. It was impossible to ignore the gorgeous hunk of man-meat to my left. It was incredible to watch his performance, seeing yet again how talented the guy truly was. He had mesmerized me back then, and I guessed this time wasn’t any different. Except, back then, I was able to admire his acting from afar. This night, he was sitting right next to me.
Sitting right next to me… The heat from his body warming mine, our arms jockeying for position on the shared armrest. God, he was just so disgustingly beautiful. Try as I might, I couldn’t ignore that undisputed fact.
I found myself replaying our kiss from the other afternoon; the way his hands felt around my back or sliding through my hair, the way his mouth had felt on mine. I tried to turn it off. I really did. But my body parts had begun to revolt, my memory spinning out of control.
My thoughts went in and out of this state, from trying to fully immerse myself in the movie and wanting to fully immerse my hands down Trip’s pants. And just when I’d think I had myself pulled together, he’d go and grab some more popcorn.
I felt him lean against my arm, his soft breath at my ear—the contact causing a freaking actual physical flip in my belly—when he whispered, “God, this is torture.”
Yes. Yes it most certainly was.
I turned my head to look at him, there in the dark, in our private little row of the theater, expecting to see him gazing longingly into my face, dying to kiss me like we were a couple of teenagers who only sat in the back of a theater in order to make out.
Instead, his eyes were focused solely on the screen as he added, “I hate watching my own movies.”
Grrr.
I thought that if he had any idea just how much the rest of the world enjoyed watching his movies, he might feel a little better. But I got it. Anytime I see myself on videocam, I just want to crawl under the nearest rock and die. But Trip never knew how good he was. At anything. I mean, Jesus. I could cite a few offscreen performances that still brought a smile to my nether regions.
“Trip,” I whispered, watching his jaw clenched in profile, the light from the screen giving him an ethereal glow. “I don’t know what you’re seeing, but I’m watching a really talented actor give an amazing performance.”
His eyes were still focused on the screen, a disgusted look on his face. He swiped a hand down that gorgeous mug before fixing those piercing eyes at me. “Lay, I can’t take it. We’ve got to get out of here. This was a bad idea.”
I was enjoying the movie, but if he wanted to go, I figured his vote on the matter trumped mine. You know, considering it was his movie and all. But I thought he was prematurely evacuating.
He’d started to shift, clearly intent on standing up, when I stopped his movement with a hand clamped over his. “Trip. Please don’t go. Just give it a few minutes. It’s a really great movie, I swear. Can’t you just try and pretend that’s not you up there? Please?”
He was sitting at the edge of his chair, in full sprint-mode, but the look on my pleading face must have registered. In one fluid move, he flipped his palm upward, threaded his fingers through mine, and gave a quick squeeze. He took a cleansing breath and eased back into his seat.