Free The Drazen World: LUST (Kindle Worlds Novella) by Lola Darling

surrounded in the background by the few brightly lit towers of downtown, and I break into a grin.
    “What’s playing?” I ask as we park toward the back of the drive-in theater. A few guys and girls on roller skates breeze past, trays of food and beverages balanced above their heads as they deliver them to the windows of waiting viewers.
    “It’s western week,” he tells me. “I’ve got a thing for old school cowboy flicks.”
    I can’t resist a smirk. “Cowboy fetish, huh? Good to know.”
    He laughs softly. “Something like that.” His hand curls around mine, and I lean across the console to rest my head on his shoulder as he tunes the radio to the station that will let us listen along.
    “I’ve never been to a drive-in,” I admit, as he adjusts the volume. There’s a commercial playing now, reminding us about the snacks and beverage orders we can place.
    “Really?” He lifts his eyebrows, dares a glance at me. “I used to come all the time with my family. It was my one escape. The only time we were allowed to watch movies, and only classics at that, but still.”
    I blink, surprised. “You weren’t allowed to watch movies?”
    “We didn’t even own a TV.” He shrugs one shoulder in that way he has. It’s really fucking adorable, actually. “My parents believe TV breeds idleness and sloth.”
    I can’t help laughing a little, but he does, too. “Well, they’re probably not wrong,” I point out. Then sneak another glance up at his strong profile in the dim light from the screen. “Is that why the church relaxes you? Because you were raised in it?”
    “Probably.” He rolls his shoulders, adjusts in his seat to lean his head down against mine. “I mean, I hold very different views about Catholicism than my parents.” He curls his fingers around mine to squeeze. “Clearly. But the basics, the real faith, not the modern trappings that people have added onto it, that has always been a huge source of comfort for me. The teaching that we must always work to help those less fortunate than ourselves, and take care of others, love them no matter what they do to us, because at the end of the day, we’re all in this together, we are all God’s creatures . . . That’s helped me through a lot of really terrible times.” He brushes his thumb across the back of my hand in a slow, steady rhythm. “It saved my life, really. I would’ve gone off the deep end, otherwise, after . . .” He closes his eyes, swallows hard.
    “After Marcus?” I prompt softly.
    He nods.
    “We don’t have to talk about it.”
    “It’s okay. I can, now. My faith has done that much for me. I know that he’s moved on to a better place, he doesn’t need to suffer anymore. Honestly, it’s those of us he left behind that I mourn.” Paul’s mouth quirks into a wry smile. “But it took me a long time to get there.” His eyes dart to mine, and I can read in them what he’s thinking. What he’s afraid to ask.
    How I’m doing with Gabby.
    I twine my fingers through his. “I don’t know if I’ll ever quite get there,” I reply, my voice quiet. “I’m not sure what I believe about this world or . . . Or any next worlds. I mean, of course I like to hope she’s somewhere better, but . . .” I shake my head.
    “What was she like?” Paul leans his seat back, and I curl up along the crook of his arm.
    “Driven. Dedicated. A genius, really, on the piano. She was one of those prodigy kids, and we all thought she’d be off playing concert halls by age 16, world-famous by 20. But then the depression hit . . . She’d go from a high, playing the best she’s ever been, into this spiral where she could hardly coax out a note that sounded right. When she auditioned for Julliard, she was in one of the latter moods.” I grimace at the memory, and Paul sighs regretfully beside me. “But we were making the best of it. We had—we have a band, though without Gabby, it’s . . . I don’t know what will happen now. We were