Page 84 of Niccolaio Andretti (The Five Syndicates)
“You should smile like that more often.”
“You should dance with me more often.”
“Okay.”
“Wait. What?”
“Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?” I ask, as he leads us to the tunnels, barely pausing to send a boyish head nod Asher’s way.
“I’m taking you on a date, Minka Reynolds.”
I’ve never been on a date.
Chapter Thirty-Three
True forgiveness is when
you can say, “Thank you
for that experience.”
Oprah Winfrey
Of course, my first date happens at a movie theater.
Original.
But honestly, with Niccolaio as my date, I can’t even bring myself to care, and when we walk into the completely empty theater lobby, I know why we’re here and not somewhere more crowded. Not for the first time, it occurs to me that Niccolaio is always thinking a dozen steps ahead.
“This is a dollar theater that plays movies that have been out in theaters for a few months, and honestly, it should be out of business already. None of the theaters are in decent viewing condition, so no one goes.”
I see what he means when we enter the theater, and there’s a gaping hole on the top left corner of the screen. In the center right, there’s a giant stain on the screen, also. How that happened, I have no clue, but I’m not impressed. Again, I also don’t particularly care, though I am amused and confused as to why Niccolaio took me here. Surely, he’d be able to find another place that isn’t frequented by people.
We sit down at the center of the handicap row. Normally, I’d be more sensitive about using up a seat reserved for handicap people, but this place is a ghost town. There’s even only one employee running the whole place.
“Are we in the right theater?” I ask as I stare up at the screen, where Emma Watson is looking into a handheld mirror at the Beast.
Given what I know about the fairy tale, it looks like the movie is at least two-thirds of the way done.
“Yep. This is the one.”
“Do you want to catch a later showing?”
“No. Do you?”
I frown at the amusement in his voice, but I shake my head and stay silent as we watch the last twenty or so minutes of the movie in silence. Five minutes in, he does the stereotypical yawn, stretch, and hand around the back move, which makes me roll my eyes.
“I shouldn’t have told you that this is my first date. Now you’re pulling out all the big moves,” I say, leaning my head against his firm bicep and gesturing to the giant hole in the movie theater carpet, which has to be some sort of hazard. Definitely a lawsuit waiting to happen.
He gives me a boyish grin, and his face instantly transforms from the face of Niccolaio Andretti, the killer the darkest people in this world know, to Niccolaio Andretti, the guy who doesn’t judge me and says silly, ridiculous things to make my little sister laugh.
“Damn, I should have splurged for the popcorn,” he says, looking at our stash of boxed candy in mock disappointment.
I try and fail to stifle my stupid smile, because I was the one who pointed out the greenish hue of the popcorn in question. Good God, this place needs to be shut down, but man, if it isn’t quickly becoming one of my favorite places.
“I think I’ll have to dock two or three points off for that.”
