Read Online Ink by Damien Walters Grintalis - Free Book Online Page B

laughed. “That’s not very griffin-like.”
    “Better than the name of a guardian from Hell.”
    “Point taken.” She reached over and patted his left arm. “Nice to meet you, Frank.”
    When the lights dimmed, she slipped her hand into his. The upcoming movie trailers started, and he tried to remember the last time he held Shelley’s hand anywhere. Maybe at a family function. They always put on a good show for his family even though the sterile way their hands met held no warmth. He and Shelley had kept their disintegration private, which, no doubt, explained his mother’s mindset. Mitch shifted in her seat and leaned closer, and all thoughts of his soon-to-be ex-wife vanished.
    The movie involved a ghost stalking a group of people spending a weekend in the house, and half the teenagers shrieked the first time the ghost appeared. The second time, he and Mitch both jumped in their seats, but she kept her hand in his, and the rightness of her touch put a smile on his lips.
    The poke on his arm, a tiny bit of feather-light pressure, caught him off guard. Jason turned his head to the left, but the teenager next to him, a girl with heavy smears of black makeup, sat facing forward, her eyes wide with rapt fascination, so he brushed it off as an accident.
    The heroine of the movie walked through a long hallway unaware of the ghost right behind her. The background music, dark and ominous, could not hide the squeals and shouts of ”turn around” that filled the theater. Mitch whispered ”idiot” under her breath, but she gripped Jason’s hand tight. The heroine finally turned, and more than half the people in the theater echoed her scream. Mitch didn’t scream, but she pressed her hand against her mouth. He smiled, and she pushed at his right arm with her hand at the same time the girl touched him again. He looked over, not surprised she’d poked him this time because her hands were flailing in front of her like living things while the boy next to her laughed and slapped his hands on his thighs.
    The heroine got away, barely, and the next ten minutes of the film offered a quiet lull as she tried to convince her friends that something was wrong. Mitch moved even closer and put her head on Jason’s shoulder. Her hair didn’t smell like coconut tonight. It smelled flowery but sweet. Impulsively, he kissed the spot where her hair met her forehead.
    When the heroine and her friends started exploring the house room by room, the gentle pressure on his arm returned. Jason looked over at the girl and swallowed hard. Her hands were wrapped around the boy, their mouths mashed together in oblivious abandon.
    Not her? Impossible.
    Something happened onscreen that caused several people to burst out in nervous laughter, but the kids paid no attention.
    No, it had to be her.
    The ghost appeared onscreen again, and the room broke out in a deafening scream, multiple voices blending together in one long howl of terror. Mitch’s shoulders shook as she laughed, but the sound disappeared into the chaotic roar.
    Someone nudged his arm again. The teenagers’ lips had finally parted, but the girl sat halfway in the boy’s lap. Jason’s mouth went dry.
    I am not imagining things. I know what I felt. But if she didn’t touch me, who did?
    Another round of screams rose up around him; this time Mitch let out a quick, loud yelp of shock, and her hand tightened around his. The movie screen turned into a blur of ghostly images and running feet as the music built up to a fevered pitch. The girl untangled herself from her boyfriend, but sat with her knees pulled up and her hands over her eyes.
    The girl onscreen screamed as the ghost approached with arms outstretched. Mitch’s grip tightened even more, and the unseen finger touched his arm again, pressing hard. He whipped his head around to the left and glared at the girl. “Stop it,” he mouthed. She frowned. He pointed to his arm, and she looked away.
    Of course it’s her. Who else could