Boy-Friends

"Here"s okay," Chris tells me, carefully carrying our sodas and making his way across the dark row and to our seats. I nod, but I quickly find myself turning back. Where"s Ji- "Where"s Jim?" I ask, gathering a handful of kernels. "Oh yeah, he"s not coming," Chris explains casually, sipping from his straw. "He broke up with Denise I think, something like that." "He broke up?" I repeat, and he nods lightly, turning to me with a quick smile. "Yeah, think so." "Well, is he okay?" I insist. Chris shruggs, stealing some popcorn. "Yeah, I mean. It"s not like he loved her or anything." "Oh?" Chris shakes his head. "Movie"s about to start," he finishes the subject, turning to the screen. And I don"t care that much so- we watch the film, which is as cool as action films get with the infinite bullets and the superhuman protagonist. But Chris? He loves these, and in all honesty- it does make them better. I frown softly at the lit, wide screen as I realize all those times he"s dragged me to these things and I"ve had a blast, I"ve been mostly entertained by Chris" fresh laughter whenever there"s a both dumb and clever joke in the script. By the huge smile on the corner of my eye whenever something explodes, followed with another set of excited chuckles. It"s not that I"m older than him- in fact, he is- but Lord, Chris is such a boy. I don"t think he"ll ever fully grow up. I smile to myself as I picture him in a suit, sitting at an office desk, throwing spit balls through a straw at his co-workers and then pretending to work when they turn back, stifling his laughter. Not that it"d ever happen- Chris hates suits. I turn back to the film and once again find myself laughing with him, commenting- nothing new. However his enthusiasm today seems to me particularly contagious. Well... it"s been, lately. And I am now downing my soda and shoving popcorn down my throat not to tell him how oddly terrifying is that I"m enjoying us hanging out far more than it"s usual. That I can"t put my finger on it, but I seem to freeze every time his own reach me. Then his hand knocks the popcorn off my lap. Perfect timing, as always- swear I"m not even being sarcastic. "Asshole," I whisper, reaching to tip his, or try to anyway as he"s quicker than me and is now clutching it, giggling as he continues to look up at the screen. "Dude, you"re missing it all," he chides in glee, and I roll my eyes in amusement, straightening back up on my seat just to realize that Chris" arm has extended above it, and is now around me. And whereas I would usually relax as I do every time this happens, my body seems to have decided this innocent situation means something very, very different. And it is, in consequence, most definitely not relaxing. A quick, uncomfortable attempt to shift on my seat confirms this. Well that, is new.