Balconial Conversations

90 // in the cinema

Cam holds my hand on the way to the theatre, and somewhat awkwardly throughout the paying process at the electronic kiosk. I happily accept all of the glances from girls from amused, to jealous, to downright murderous, happily, and let him swing our hands between us like a movie-couple.

He's wearing the white ball cap pulled low over his eyes, but I can see them if I look up. They're sparkling and perfectly gleeful. He flashes a supernova grin down when he catches me staring, and I smile tentatively back. He squeezes my hand.

"Aren't we getting food?" I ask as we pass the congested line up, and he grins like a Boy Scout who just got a Being Prepared badge.

"Got ya covered." He winks, and I giggle. His hand is warm in mine, our fingers interlaced, and a happy feeling balloons in my stomach and spreads through my limbs. He opens the door for me with his free hand, and we walk down into the crowded theatre.

He choses seats in the back, sitting far away from the only other viewers in the row; two girls texting like it's Armageddon. I settle beside him, wriggling out of my hoodie.

The previews begin, and he fishes around in the large pockets of his windbreaker. "Okay, so I've got Milk Duds and Maltesers. I'm sorry there isn't more, but I really hate waiting for the concession stands stuff." He shrugs, and I feel a surge of affection for him. We really are perfect for each other.

"That's perfect." And I startle him by leaning forward and kissing his cheek. It's silky smooth and vaguely minty, he must have just shaved. I pull back, and he's smiling an adorable lip-biting smile.

"You're perfect." We gaze - and I mean gaze - at each other for a few moments until he looks down at the candy with an infectious grin.

He slouches down with an aggressively unhealthy posture, and I follow suit. "So, what movie is this?"

He frowns. "Um, it's..." he plucks up the ticket stub and reads off a completely unfamiliar name. "Gabriel said it was good."

"Then it probably sucks."

"Possibly..." he shakes his head ruefully. "Anyway..."

"Who are Austin and Dallas?" It's been bugging me.

"They are two guys from school. Austin is actually from Dallas, and Dallas is from Nunavut. We were all in Calculus I together freshman year with Milo, and I don't know. They're pretty cool."

"Nunavut?"

"Yeah, but he's not like... what are they using these days? Aboriginal? First Nations? He's black."

"Really?"

"Yeah. His dad was adopted and runs the Royal Bank up there, and his mom is American."

"That's weird."

He shrugs. "The majority of Canadians are immigrants and descendants of immigrants."

"Well isn't that culturally correct of you."

"I don't believe I've ever heard that term, Katherine."

"I made it up. I plan to copyright it tomorrow."

"Awesometacular. That's mine."

"Fair enough."

We can only stay quiet until the actors actually start talking and shooting people. Which is about a minute and a half into the movie.

"This is horrible," Cam whispers.

"I agree," I reply.

"It's kind of cool though."

"In a tacky way."

"Yeah..."

Cam captures my hand between both of his, and strokes the back of it along the veins and tendons, then in the sensitive spaces between my fingers. I sigh at the almost ticklish sensations, and tip my head against the back of the seat.

He keep up the swirls and whorls and caresses until I can't see straight. His fingers becoming light and teasing when I sigh.

"Cambriel?" I murmur, and he laughs silently. I can feel his shoulders jumping.

"Hmm?" The humour in his voice is definite.

"If you don't kiss me... right now... I am never going on another date with you again." I murmur, keeping my eyes closed. He breathes a laugh, then his breath is caressing my mouth and I can't thinking about my tingling hand anymore.

He sits up a little taller so he can lean over me, and I reach up to rest my hand on the back of his neck. I've always wanted to do that; the hair is soft and curling there, and his skin is warm and like satin.

He kisses me quietly; his breaths are my breaths, and mine are his. I love the feel of his nose sliding against mine, his lips imploring mine and bruisingly perfect. His eyelashes brushing my skin in soft, irresistible butterfly kisses.

"Excuse me. Some of us are actually trying to watch the movie."

***

Bahaha. So um greatbigturnaround for both of them, eh?