I settle into my chair, pull out my phone, and fire off a quick text to my friends about the situation. Kelly said she wanted updates, so I send the group my location.
Kell Bell: So excited for you! Have fun sweetie!
DamnAnam: luuuuuvvvvvv!!!!
I'm smirking at the messages when Ant settles back down beside me, just as the titular mall appears on screen, with its teenaged cast ready to be chopped.
He passes me a large bucket of popcorn and a box of Swedish Fish.
“Oh my goodness, these are my favorite!” I whisper, clutching the candy to my chest. “Are these for me?”
“Of course,” he says, pulling out a pair of earplugs which he slides into the sides of his head.
"Everything okay?" I ask.
"I just have sensitive ears," he explains quietly. "Movies can be a little loud."
"Oh! We don’t have to stay!"
"It’s okay," he says firmly, but he smiles. "I want to enjoy this with you."
"Alright, if you're sure." I pop the box of candy open and curl into the seat beside him, ready to watch some robots explode people’s heads.
There’s no armrest between our seats and it’s easy to take advantage of that, letting myself lean a little closer to him. His knuckles graze against mine on the bench between us.
I glance at Ant’s face to check his expression. His features are so strange. It can be hard to tell if he's nervous, irritated, or happy. It’s kind of nice not being sure. Colin never wanted tohold hands in public. He wasn’t a fan of PDA. He preferred to stay home, and he preferred it when I stayed in with him. Far to many nights I let him talk me into sitting on the couch instead of going to the event I wanted to attend.
It’s easy to project those same expectations onto Ant. But fuck it. I barely know this guy. What do I care if he doesn’t have ‘physical touch’ listed as a love language? I know what I want.
I slip my fingers into Ant’s, and turn back to the screen. His hand shifts in mine slightly, my heart pounds loudly in my chest, waiting for him to pull away, but he just gently squeezes my hand.
The simple action has my heart skipping a beat. Crap. Am I this desperate for someone to show me this casual affection?
Who cares? I adjust the box of candy between my knees and inch toward him.
Ant’s hand leaves my grasp.
I’m too eager, yet again.
And then, his arm lifts behind me, curls around my shoulder and tucks me against him. The heat of his arm sinks into my body. Warm and cozy and comfortable. I smirk in the dark at my success.
4
PIPER
The movie contains just as many head explosions, robot lasers, and cameltoes as I remember. By the finale, I've managed to scoot much further into Ant’s personal space. My shoulder against his chest, our thighs pressed together, his fingers gently grazing up and down my arm, sending little chills across my skin. It’s so supremely warm and comfortable that I’m disappointed when the credits start to roll. I’m not ready to move.
Ant doesn’t budge an inch, except for his thumb still sliding up and down my arm.
When the overhead lights switch on, he winces, and lifts a wing to gently shield his face.
“Oh crap. Does that hurt your eyes?” I ask.
“It’s fine,” he says.
“No, it’s not. Let’s get out of here. Okay?” I slip my hand into his and tug him toward the clearly marked ‘exit’ door that leads down a flight of stairs and into the alley behind the movie theater.
His shoulders visibly relax when we step into the darkness. The cool night air hits me, highlighting that any traces of alcohol in my blood are gone. All that’s left is the two of us.
