“You’re sure you don’t want any more of this?  You hardly touched the pieces I gave you!” Lisa commented brightly as she gazed into the greasy depths of the popcorn bag, which still contained the seedling dredges of the snack and the accompanying yellow stains painted along the inner paper wall.

                “Are you kidding?  If you poked me hard enough I’d probably pop harder than the corn,” the tiny freshman commented wearily, patting his stomach which, despite the rather filling three clusters he’d downed, hadn’t expanded in the slightest.  His date had already been more than generous with the stuff, actually having to return several pieces to the bag once she’d delivered a new clump only to realize he was still hungrily nursing the previous bite.

                He blinked, as the theatre lights had steadily risen back up, stinging his dilated pupils.  Most of the other patrons had departed already, trampling over crushed drink cups and empty candy bar wrappers, and the few that remained were more engrossed with waiting patiently for a potential after-credits teaser scene than turning to stare at him.  Again, a more-than-grateful happenstance for the boy.

                As the pair had grown more comfortable in the intervening two hours while the movie played with Peter being perched in Lisa’s hand, he had leaned back slightly in her palm, stretching out, though not quite with the level of casual abandon he did while seated in Jessica’s hand.  This was only done at the whispered suggestion of his friend, who’d leaned over just far enough toward his ear to let her silky words sink in against the booming speaker system surrounding them in the hall.  She’d of course, probably in fear of looking like she’d gotten fresh with him, reminded him that she had her own chair back to rest against but he did not, so her curled palm would have to be a substitute.  He obliged immediately, trying not to sound too pleased as he got settled in.

                From then on, it got even more difficult to focus on the plot of the film, as most of his subconscious was now dedicated to soaking up the sensation of Lisa’s hand nestled against his back.  By the end, Peter knew he probably would’ve flunked a movie trivia quiz that drew questions from anything other than the title and the loosest of narrative strings.  Best of all, it all came so incredibly naturally the boy had to marvel at the fact that his ankles weren’t trembling with enough fervor to make his friend think she was experiencing a seizure.

                Even if things had gotten easier here tonight, though, that by no means meant Peter was purged of his insecurities or worries about doing something to in some minute fashion negatively impact his relationship with this girl.  He still had a lot to prove, to her, and even more to himself.

                About… whatever this was.

                “If you’re sure, then, I guess we’ll just dump the leftovers?” Lisa said with a shrug that still allowed her to keep her palm almost unnervingly still while she shuffled with the crumpled remains on her knee.   Frankly, Peter was unbelievably impressed that she’d kept her arm so statuesque throughout the entire runtime of the film, let alone keeping from flinching during the more bracing moments where some surprise burst of percussion took place onscreen.  Though she’d kept her slender limb propped on her thigh for support, that was a long time to keep her hand aloft, yet she’d done it, without complaint or even the suggestion of a second thought.

                It was amazing, really.  Even his younger sister, overzealous though she was about holding him, tended to place him on her shoulder or her knee while they watched TV together for extended periods of time.

                “That’s fine with me,” Peter said.  “No one likes leftover popcorn anyway.”

                “Agreed,” she said with a nod, at last ascending back to her meager stature that nonetheless put Peter at a once-again towering height above the sticky floor.  She pinched the bag in the fingers of her other hand and began the sidling march back between the seats and toward the aisle, now far-easier to make out in the glow of the space.  A janitor, hoisting a broom and gripped in the same throes of mortal boredom as his cohorts at the ticket and snack lines, edged past Lisa, glancing at Peter but paying him little mind as he set to work cleaning up after the sloppy audience.  Lisa plopped the popcorn garbage into the open bin and sauntered down the slanted tunnel back toward the door, her shoes clacking soundly against the gleaming floor in probably the only square footage of the theatre not currently gummed up with spilled cola and half-melted gummy bears.

                The girl’s hand, crusted lightly with butter and salt granules courtesy of reaching into the container multiple times to retrieve pieces for herself and the reach-challenged freshman, hardly wavered as she nudged into the swinging door and brought them out into the lobby, now a little more crowded since they’d arrived with other teens and college students home for the weekend and looking to catch a later showing.

                “Wow.  Guess it’s good we got here when we did, huh?” Peter noted as he looked out over the throngs of bustling young people, the newest patrons apparently comprising a frat house in letter jackets shoving each other around to get further in line, while a few people who were obviously couples clung tightly together.

                “You can say that again,” Lisa muttered with the same brand of apprehension.  Her fingers, which had been lying flat up to now, swooped in just a little higher, shielding Peter from easy view, despite how much distance there was between here and the end of the hall where all the commotion was taking place around the refreshment counter.  He was pleased, as he didn’t want to look quite so much like a shivering shrew to have requested this act, and peered furtively between the crevices of Lisa’s fingers.

                Glued at the hips and even tighter at the hands, hardly aware of anyone around such that many of them almost tripped over the multicolored tile itself, the pairs of significant others made the tiny freshman even more uncomfortable than the sight of looming football-scholarship clowns who could accidentally send him flying with a simple misplaced elbow.

                He was truly glad these pairs hadn’t appeared in the movie he and Lisa had just viewed, because he was willing to bet most of them were going to fill up the back rows they’d just been required to utilize.  Most-likely they’d miss the majority of the plot onscreen in favor of sucking each other’s lips off and fumbling awkwardly for nipples through the fabric.  Such a thing would’ve been distracting and, perhaps worst of all, put an enormous amount of ridiculous pressure on Peter, even as their closeness filled him with bittersweet worry.

                After all, what were the odds he’d ever achieve that level of intimacy with someone?  A touch on the shoulder was one thing, but a kiss?

                Right.

                And maybe after that he’d flap his arms, fly off into outer space, and lick the sun.

                “Your mom said she’d meet us just outside the front entrance, right?” Lisa confirmed quietly, holding Peter closer to her chin as she began to shoulder her way through the crowd, careful to avoid even making contact with any of them for fear of the miniature boy being thrown from her palm.  Though she protectively cupped him into the very center anyway.

                “Yep.  And knowing her, she’s been sitting out there in the car for forty minutes already just to make sure she didn’t miss us coming out,” Peter chuckled, resolving to put the thought of the young and frisky lovers out of his mind for now, as he began to recognize it wasn’t pure disgust at their lewd public displays he was feeling but burning envy at the opportunities they had for regular romantic contact.

                The teen’s headspace was getting more complicated all the time, and he wasn’t an especially big fan of it.

                “Oh, good!  Let’s not keep her waiting, then,” Lisa jabbed back with an equally broad snicker, passing by what seemed to be the last of the college-age crowd.  Most of them had remained either completely self-absorbed or at least focused on choosing a candy bar from the glass display case.  Those that had allowed their attention to shift over to the oddly divergent couple may have offered a raised eyebrow or even a partially hung jaw, but these were to be expected from strangers, and Peter couldn’t blame them.  Besides, he had Lisa’s pretty freckled face to focus up on instead as she determinedly navigated the winding lines of people with the efficiency of a bomb expert creeping through a minefield.  Those piercing green eyes, flashing slightly with the effort to seek out any and all potential threats that might accidentally bump into her, once again robbed Peter of all sensory distinction as he sunk into the lush light of them.

                God, if only…

                “Well, well, well,” a voice cut in through the chattering hustle-and-bustle flooding the theatre lobby.  The snarky feminine tone sounded out from somewhere behind Lisa, and though Peter couldn’t see a face over the narrow hill of her shoulder, he could just make out the sight of some fingers.  Specifically, some fingers twirling habitually through a long brown ponytail around the corner in a pattern that was instantly recognizable to a boy who’d once had the misfortune of being grabbed up inside a firm embrace and whisked away for creatively nefarious purposes.

                Instantly the little pit of healthy anxiety he’d been feeling this whole evening over Lisa evolved and twisted itself into a lumpy knot inside his stomach, enlarging by the moment as more and more of the new individual’s body appeared behind his redheaded carrier, and his fears about her identity were confirmed with a look of straight-lipped antagonism and a thousand-yard stare glazed into those driven hazel eyes.

                Mandy.