A really love story about a girl and a boy and another boy
(Really super cheesy, was feeling very sentimental)
I had met John when we were both freshmen in high school. I was at the movie theater with my two best friends, Cally and Sara, and we were sitting towards the back of the theater, row R, seats 22, 23, and 24. We always sat there, always, 1. for optimal viewing performance and 2. in order to be able to whisper about which of the guys in the movie were the hottest and which were NOT.
We had been doing this since we were in 6th grade, when we all met each other as the three schools in the district merged in a new building. Almost every weekend since then we had come to the little community theater, which held about 60 people in all. And we always showed up 20 minutes early in order to score our favorite seats.
It just so happened that one starlit Friday night in the chilly month of October, we three were not the only one sitting towards the back of the theater. There were a group of rowdy boys in the row right behind our seats. We sat down, ignoring their jeers and "quiet" whispers criticizing our taste in movies. This particular one was an adventure comedy, which I practically had to drag Cally and Sara to, since they wanted to see the romance where the hot teen actor took his shirt off.
We succeeded in blowing them off until about halfway through the movie. Their "whispers" had been growing louder and louder, and despite multiple shushings from the other movie-goers, none of them had quieted. I recall having just turned my head to roll my eyes at Sara, who sat to the left of me, when I was met with a face-full of popcorn.
Without missing a beat, my hand practically dove into our own bucket and into the boys face who had just thrown popcorn at me. All of the boys laughed at him and gave me high fives while Cally and Sara raised their eyebrows approvingly. The boy who had been my target practice wiped the sticky popcorn off his face.
Until then, he had been the most beautiful person I had ever seen. His eyes were a deep brown, his teeth shiny and straight in his smile. His curly brown hair managed to fall in perfect waves, stopping right above his eyes. He was more handsome than any of the actors in that stupid adventure comedy.
Then he smiled at me, and reached his hand across the back of my chair. I took it. It wasn't clammy or cold or sticky or gross, like so many other boys were. His grip was strong and confident as he shook mine, and he said,
"Hey. My name's John."