Absolutely not, I tell myself before the voice in my head can. Don’t even think about it.

We throw our platters out, and I use Google Maps to find the closest subway. As we board the A train, Emmitt looks distracted, his cheeks bright with color, which is strange. I can count on one hand the times I’ve seen Emmitt flustered.

“Why do I feel like you did something you shouldn’t have?” I ask, poking his rib cage. “Your expression looks guilty.”

He laughs, but it’s arguably the fakest one I’ve heard from him yet. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re supposed to be a good actor,” I say, leaning my head against the subway pole.

That earns me a real smile and he reaches over, tweaking my nose. “You’ve insulted me too many times. It just rolls off me now.”

“A pity,” I say. “I’ll have to get more inventive.”

His eyes are warm. “I look forward to it.”

41

“You had to call someone to get us in here?” I ask and raise a brow at the AMC theater on Thirty-Fourth Street, even though my entire body is warming from the inside out. It was only a few hours ago that I told Emmitt how much movie theaters mean to me, and he immediately made plans for us to come to one. “You know you can just buy tickets on Fandango, right?”

“Be patient, love,” Emmitt says, flagging down a movie attendant the moment we step inside.

The boy looks up at Emmitt with wide eyes. “Uh—Mr. Ramos...” He clears his throat. “Right this way.”

My eyebrows lift even higher, disappearing into my hairline. “You told them who you are?”

“Come on, Mina,” Emmitt says, a hint of a grin blooming in the corner of his mouth.

I follow after him, but not without taking stock of the other AMC employees. Most of them are whispering as we pass, some of them giggling at Emmitt, others staring at me curiously.

“Here you go, sir,” the boy says, gesturing to one of the theaters. “Snacks and drinks can be bought at the counter.”

“We’re good,” Emmitt says, offering the boy a nod. “Thank you so much.”

“Of c-course,” he says, cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. “Enjoy your movie.”

The moment he’s out of hearing distance, I turn another pointed look on Emmitt. “Did you really need an escort?”

He shrugs, grabbing my hand and pulling me inside the dark theater. I follow after him, shaking my head. When we get inside, though, the theater is empty of another soul.

“Are we early?” I ask, looking around in dismay.

Emmitt laughs. “No, we’re right on time.”

The projector starts up, familiar musical notes playing, and I turn around, my jaw dropping. “No fucking way.” Then I immediately slap my hand over my mouth, remembering that we’re in a movie theater.