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filter between most people’s brains and their
mouths was never installed in me. I have a habit of telling the truth. “There’s
a situation at home.”
    “I’m not the only one with a talent for being cryptic.”
Miles raised his eyebrows.
    “I told the bastard to pack his things.”
    Miles earned a few points by simply nodding with an
expression that said I didn’t need to go further. “If I were him, I’d listen,”
he commented. “Then again, I wouldn’t have done whatever warranted the heave-ho.”
    “I should hope not,” I said, not wanting to elaborate.
    The lights dimmed a tad and the curtains drew back from the
screen. This was when the theater was obliged to torment early guests with
commercials. Miles offered me the soda. I took it gratefully. I’d been in such
a state when I came in I forgot to get anything for myself. Now, it seemed, my
luck had taken a turn much like the smile at the corners of Miles’ mouth.
    He put the huge bucket of popcorn in his lap and opened the
box of chocolate-covered raisins. He held them as if to tip the box into the
bucket and then he looked at me. “You mind?”
    I smiled in admiration. “Well, that’s inspired. Sweet and
salty.”
    He happily poured the candy in and shook the bucket to mix
it all up. “I can’t take the credit. My daddy taught me this trick. We used to
come here all the time.”
    My brows knit. “You’re from around here?” He had a trace of
the lilting Mayfield drawl when he spoke, but Hawthorne isn’t too large a town
and I surely would have remembered someone who looked like Miles.
    “Reynard,” he said, referring to the next town over, the
fancy section of Mayfield County. “No theater there. We came here until I was
twelve and my father got transferred to San Diego. Computer tech,” he supplied.
    I took a handful of the popcorn and candy and adored the mix
of flavor and texture. If nothing else, Miles had teased my taste buds as well
as my eyes. “What are you doing back around here?”
    “Visiting my folks. They moved back a few years ago,” he
answered. His lips wrapped around the soda straw like a kiss when he took a
sip. Then he looked at the straw. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know I was going
to need two.”
    “Got cooties?” I asked. He shook his head no and held up two
fingers, scout’s honor. I took a sip of the soda, liking the idea of my lips
being where his had been.

Chapter Three
     
    Previews, I’d learned from my many times at the movies, were
a good indication of the caliber of the main feature. You only got really good
trailers at shows guaranteed to draw a crowd. If this bunch was any indication,
the movie Miles and I were about to see was going to require the Hawthorne to
fumigate afterward.
    We groaned and laughed our way through a dozen trailers.
“Jeez, who green-lit that ?” Miles said after one, and, “That director’s
a jerk,” about another—the sort of insider talk that got me wondering.
    “You have something to do with this movie we’re seeing?” I
asked. Not too deep down, I knew part of the reason I’d asked was so I could
lean closer to him.
    “For better or worse,” was his answer. The way he said it
made me extend the same courtesy he’d given me about the situation at home. I
let it go, figuring I’d find out soon enough.
    I didn’t make a conscious decision to leave my head inclined
toward his, and I wondered if he was just settling in a bit more when he
shifted down into his seat, bringing his head closer to mine. We still had the
armrest between us. My elbow was on half of it, arm extended, my fingers idly
toying with one of the silver rings I always wore. He moved his arm carefully
next to mine. I wished the armrest would go away.
    The AC kicked in again and I shuddered with the chill. My
favorite sundress was great for hot days and hot dates, and I loved the way it
showed off my arm art and a hint of cleavage, but it was no match for
movie-theater-level