He leaned closer. “You’d catch me.”
“Unlikely.”
We headed for the concession stand once Poppy and Bear brought the tickets over. I let Tino order the snacks, mostly because I was busy thinking about all the people who were staring at us and how much I hated it. I knew it wasn’t going to die down in a day—everyone needed some time to be excited about the relationship confirmation before it could become a normal part of life—but I wished they could at least be a little more subtle about it.
We got looks. Smiles. A few whispered comments from the people we passed. And suddenly I was hyper-aware of everything—of how tall he was beside me, how easily he fit against me, how warm his hand felt in mine.
“This is all your fault,” I told Tino as he grabbed the two drinks. I didn’t ask him how he knew my favorite drink to get at the movies was Fruitopia because I never drank it at any other time. Some stones were better left unturned. I picked up the popcorn—extra layered butter just as I liked it—and let him wrap an arm around my shoulders as we followed our friends to the theaters.
He leaned down just enough that his breath brushed my ear. “You mean for being so convincing that it only took you five minutes to agree to a fake relationship?”
“It did not only take five minutes!” I hissed. “And besides, I had no choice.”
He laughed, and the sound drew even more attention. One of the girls from school waved, and Tino’s response was to tuck me a little closer to his side, his arm curving around my shoulders like it had always belonged there.
The worst part was—it didn’t feel wrong.
We found seats a couple rows down from the top and while I was mildly tempted to suggest the girls sit together on one side and the boys on the other, one glance around the theatre told me there were plenty of other Hartwell students here who would no doubt read into that. I ended up sitting between Mako and Tino, pulling my elbows so close into my body to avoid touching either of them that I could barely eat my popcorn. I sat back, balancing the popcorn on my knees, trying not to notice that Tino’s arm was resting casually on the back of my seat. Too close. Always too close.
Halfway through the first trailer, his hand crept toward the popcorn.
“Don’t even think about it,” I said without looking over.
“What?”
“I heard your hand move.”
“My hand can move if it wants.”
“Not toward my popcorn it can’t.”
He sighed dramatically. “I paid for the popcorn and I’m not even allowed any?”
I took a large handful and ate it just to spite him, then said, “You should have bought two if you wanted some. You know I don’t share food.”
There was a pause. Then—his hand darted out and grabbed a handful of popcorn.
“Tino!” I hissed. “You stole my popcorn!”
“I borrowed it.”
“That’s not how snacks work!”
He popped it in his mouth, chewed thoughtfully, and then smiled. “Worth it.” Then he stole another piece. I smacked his hand but it wasn’t enough to make him drop it. He shoved it into his mouth, smirking. “What are you gonna do about it?”
“I will dump this whole bucket on your head.”
He leaned back in his chair, unfazed. “Then neither of us will get any popcorn at all.”
I tried to glare, but it didn’t quite stick. Not when he was looking at me like that, like teasing me was the most fun he had in his day.
When the actual movie started, we came to a silent agreement—him stealing snacks when he thought I wasn’t looking, me catching him every time. He’d grin, lean back, feign innocence. I’d whisper threats I had no intention of following through on.
At one point, he reached over, hand brushing mine in the bucket. We both froze. My heart stuttered. Then he slowly picked up a single piece, smirked, and popped it into his mouth without breaking eye contact.
I threw a Sour Patch Kid at him.
He caught it in his mouth. Show-off.
