Free Don't Kiss Girls and Other Silly Stories by Pat Flynn Page A

I’m still waiting.’
    â€˜I mean it, buddy. Just a couple of bucks. Please?’
    He turns his nose up, crumples a fiver and chucks it at me. ‘Don’t say I never do nothing for ya.’
    â€˜Thanks. You’re a legend.’
    â€˜I know.’
    I grab the goods, walk two steps from the counter, and then a little kid runs into me like a leprechaun playing rugby. I manage to keep the Coke upright but the popcorn spills all over the floor.
    The kids stops for an instant, checks out the damage, and sprints off.
    â€˜Hey!’ I yell after him. But he’s already gone.
    I turn and catch the eye of the candy man.
    He shrugs. ‘Sorry, kid, not my problem.’
    I feel like wiping that pimply smile off his face with a well-aimed frozen Coke, but then I wouldn’t have anything to give Ashleigh.
    â€˜Rossy, Rossy, Rossy,’ Kane says. ‘Bad luck’s your middle name.’
    â€˜No, it’s not,’ I say. ‘It’s Alexander.’
    Kane pulls out his wallet.
    Yes! I think. It looks like my old mate’s gonna buy me some more popcor n. He’s not such a bad bloke after all.
    He opens the wallet, points down at it and says, ‘I want that five dollars to be in here first thing tomorrow.’
    He chuckles and walks off with a box of Maltesers the size of a plasma TV.
    Far out!
    Ashleigh’s still in the toilet and the popcorn’s still on the carpet. What the heck, I think. I make sure no one I know is watching and quickly scoop it up into the carton. It’ll be dark in the movie, so hopefully Ash won’t be any the wiser.
    We walk in and the place is packed. My hopes of sitting in the back seat are dashed; the only seats left are right at the front.
    We don’t talk much until the opening credits roll, when Ashleigh whispers, ‘Does this popcorn taste funny to you?’
    â€˜Umm. Funny, ha, ha, or funny, funny?’ I say.
    â€˜Funny, funny. It ’s like there’s extra crunchy bits in it.’
    â€˜Really? I ordered extra, extra crunchy.’
    She giggles and I think I’ve gotten away with it. For now.
    I slide down the chair and get comfortable, wishing I’d brought a stopwatch so I’d know when halfway through the movie is. But now that I’m here, the thought of making a move on Ashleigh makes me feel like spitting out my popcorn. Or that might be because of the hair wrapped around it.
    You see, even though we’re right beside each other, it seems like there’s a 100-mile gap between us. Her arms and legs are crossed, and reaching over and touching her seems about as impossible as crossing a croc-infested river.
    About a quarter of the way into the movie she leans towards me, and I can smell her breath. It’s a combination of popcorn and carpet.
    She whispers in my ear, ‘Notice how all of the characters are wearing a different shade of blue. What do you think the director is trying to say?’
    Geez, I think. The most analysis I’ve done on a film is counting the number of dead bodies in Die Hard 5 .
    â€˜Umm,’ I say. ‘He was probably trying to say that … blue is his favourite colour.’
    She puts her hand on my arm and giggles.
    â€˜Why aren’t you ever serious, Tony?’
    I don’t answer. I’m too caught up in feeling her skin on mine, until she takes her hand away and crosses her arms and legs again.
    I take a deep breath. It looks like it’s up to me to make the next move.
    After counting to ten, I yawn and stretch. Then a Malteser whacks me on the back of the head. Aborting my mission, I turn around and see Kane and his sister directly behind us, a few rows back.
    Block it out, I tell myself.
    Thwack! I’m hit again.
    You’re dead, Kane, I think.
    Time ticks by and I know it’s now or never. The movie’s going to end pretty soon and I’m starting to get a headache from flying Maltesers. I count to three and go,