"What?" I whispered. "Oh, c'mon!" he hissed back. "The blood squirted twenty feet out of that guy. How fake can you get?"
He chuckled again, as a flagpole speared another man into a concrete wall.
After that, I really watched the show, laughing with him as the mayhem got more and more ridiculous. How was I ever going to fight the blurring lines in our relationship when I enjoyed being with him so much?
Both Jacob and Mike had claimed the armrests on either side of me. Both of their hands rested lightly, palms up, in an unnatural looking position. Like steel bear traps, open and ready. Jacob was in the habit of taking my hand whenever the opportunity presented itself, but here in the darkened movie theater, with Mike watching, it would have a different significance–and I was sure he knew that. I couldn't believe that Mike was thinking the same thing, but his hand was placed exactly like Jacob's.
I folded my arms tightly across my chest and hoped that both their hands fell asleep.
Mike gave up first. About halfway through the movie, he pulled his arm back, and leaned forward to put his head in his hands. At first I thought he was reacting to something on the screen, but then he moaned.
"Mike, are you okay?" I whispered.
The couple in front of us turned to look at him as he groaned again. I could see the sheen of sweat across his face in the light from the screen.
Mike groaned again, and bolted for the door. I got up to follow him, and Jacob copied me immediately.
"No, stay," I whispered. "I'll make sure he's okay."
Jacob came with me anyway.
"You don't have to come. Get your eight bucks worth of carnage," I insisted as we walked up the aisle.
"That's okay. You sure can pick them, Bella. This movie really sucks." His voice rose from a whisper to its normal pitch as we walked out of the theater.
There was no sign of Mike in the hallway, and I was glad then that Jacob had come with me–he ducked into the men's bathroom to check for him there.
Jacob was back in a few seconds.
"Oh, he's in there, all right," he said, rolling his eyes. "What a marshmallow. You should hold out for someone with a stronger stomach. Someone who laughs at the gore that makes weaker men vomit."
"I'll keep my eyes open for someone like that."
We were all alone in the hallway. Both theaters were halfway through the movie, and it was deserted–quiet enough for us to hear the popcorn popping at the concession counter in the lobby.
Jacob went to sit on the velveteen-upholstered bench against the wall, patting the space beside him.
"He sounded like he was going to be in there for a while," he said, stretching his long legs out in front of him as he settled in to wait.
I joined him with a sigh. He looked like he was thinking about blurring more lines. Sure enough, as soon as I sat down, he shifted over to put his arm around my shoulders.
"Jake," I protested, leaning away. He dropped his arm, not looking bothered at all by the minor rejection. He reached out and took my hand firmly, wrapping his other hand around my wrist when I tried to pull away again. Where did he get the confidence from?
"Now, just hold on a minute, Bella," he said in a calm voice. "Tell me something." I grimaced. I didn't want to do this. Not just not now, but not ever. There was nothing lett in my life at this point that was more important than Jacob Black. But he seemed determined to ruin everything.
"What?" I muttered sourly.
"You like me, right?"
"You know I do."
"Better than that joker puking his guts out in there?" He gestured toward the bathroom door. "Yes," I sighed.
"Better than any of the other guys you know?" He was calm, serene–as if my answer didn't matter, or he already knew what it was.
"Better than the girls, too," I pointed out.
"But that's all," he said, and it wasn't a question.
It was hard to answer, to say the word. Would he get hurt and avoid me? How would I stand that?
"Yes," I whispered.
He grinned down at me. "That's okay, you know. As long as you like me the best. And you think I'm good-looking–sort of. I'm prepared to be annoyingly persistent."
"I'm not going to change," I said, and though I tried to keep my voice normal, I could hear the sadness in it.
His face was thoughtful, no longer teasing. "It's still the other one, isn't it?"
I cringed. Funny how he seemed to know not to say the name–just like before in the car with the music. He picked up on so much about me that I never said.