The ground races toward me so fast that my muscles tense instinctively. With a nauseating dip downward, everything goes dark for a beat before an explosion rattles the walls.

Good old Dolby digital cinema surround sound.

The hero striding toward us onscreen is so cool, he doesn't even give a backward glance toward the burning ball of fire growing behind him.

"Yes!" Colton punches the air in triumph and aims his 3D glasses in my direction.

I grin at him just as the theater door swings open and light spills over his handsome smile. "Shoot." He grabs the glasses off his face and shoves a final handful of Raisinets into his mouth.

The theater manager, Tom — aka, the bane of our existence — makes his way toward us. "Break's over, Colt."

Colton's grin bounces back as he quickly chews. "No problem, boss-man." He brushes his hand along my arm as he stands. "You want to stay, Andie?"

I glance at the screen. One of the best scenes is coming up, but I've already watched this movie with him twice, and I find that CGI explosions lose their appeal around the third viewing. Besides, action movies are only my sixth-favorite type of movie. They come after romantic dramas, rom coms, regular coms, suspense, and parodies, but just before horror and foreign films — unless, of course, the foreign film is an epic romance, in which case, swoon. Speaking of swooning, I can still feel the trail of warmth Colton's fingers left on my arm.

Following him out of the theater, I squint at the brightness of the lobby and stagger slightly as if I've just woken up. Post-movie disorientation: one of my favorite feelings.

It's amazing to think that when we moved to Punxsutawney just two months ago, I was sure my life was over. Summer break had barely begun, but I was already anxious about starting at a new school. Now the first day of senior year is tomorrow, and I can't wait. Colton is giving me a ride, and he's promised to show me around and act as my student guide. I'm fairly confident he'll be acting as my first boyfriend very soon as well. If my wishes have any power to come true, the two of us are definitely happening.

He gives me a micro-wink as we both move behind the lobby's glass snack counter. I twist my auburn hair into a knot and secure it with a cheap plastic pen from the pile beside the register before I start handing out 3D glasses to a family of five.

"Whoops, let's try that again," I say to a sticky-looking little girl who grabs hers by the lenses. I give her a clean pair and hold the smeared ones up to the light. Somehow, she managed to deposit about one hundred teeny-tiny fingerprints during the split second she held them.

Tom is standing at the far end of the counter, spraying cleaner into a rag. He aims the bottle my way as if to ask if I need it, but I just shake my head and use the edge of my T-shirt to wipe the glasses. Tom shrugs as he starts wiping the counter. He's about our age, but takes his job so seriously that I'll always think of him as "boss-man."

"Hey, Colt," Tom calls, "make sure your girlfriend's clear she's fine helping out, but you're responsible for the register."

Even though Tom already knows Colton and I are not together, we tell him in stereo that I'm not his girlfriend. Of course, saying it out loud makes my insides go all slasher-flick angry. I've had a thing for Colton ever since our adorable meet-cute.

In case you don't know, a meet-cute is the point in a romantic movie where the two lead characters meet each other for the very first time. I'm not sure where the name comes from, but I assume it has something to do with how quirky and adorable these meet-cutes always are. Colton and I had ours the first week my parents and I moved here, when I came to the theater alone so I could drown my sorrows in a nice light romantic comedy called Sundae Sunday.

I was looking forward to the movie, whose trailer promised the comforting formula of girl-meets-boy, girl-loses-boy, girl-and-boy-realize-they-are-each-other's-everythings-and -finally-get-to-the-point-of-the-wholefilm: true love's kiss.

When I walked into the cinema, Tom greeted me from behind the snack counter with a genuine smile. "What would you like to see today?" he asked with such enthusiasm that his love for his job was immediately clear.

He struck me as borderline cute, so I tried not to look like a friendless freak as I told him, "One for Sundae Sunday."

"You must be new around here," he said as he rang up my ticket.

"We just moved into town." I reached into my shoulder bag to get my wallet, and the plastic bag I was holding slipped from my hand. The bag dropped to the red carpet and the carton of malted milk balls inside rattled loudly. Very loudly.

Tom peered over the counter to see what was happening down by my feet. "Care to explain that rattling sound?" His friendly voice had turned crisp.

"Oh, that's just my Whoppers." I picked up the bag, pulled out the large tan carton, and grinned at him as I gave it a hearty shake.

"No outside food." He looked offended, as if he was some aspiring Willy Wonka who'd made the theater candy by hand and I'd insulted him by bringing my own personal stash.

"Sorry, I didn't know if you sold them or not, and I can't watch a movie without my malted milk balls." I scanned the snack menu. "Either way, it's cool because I'm buying popcorn."

"Why would buying popcorn make it cool for you to sneak food into the movie theater?"

"I wasn't sneaking it." I raised the flimsy bag and waved it in his face. The milk balls rattled noisily. "This bag is totally see-through."

He put his hands on his hips. "I'm going to need to confiscate those chocolates."

"Listen" — I squinted at his nametag — "Tom. This is my favorite movie treat ..."

"Do you have any idea how much a theater like this depends on refreshment profits? Do you even care if we keep our doors open? There is no outside food allowed. I'm sorry. No exceptions."

I gestured to the row of candy under glass. "You don't even carry Whoppers, so it's not like you're missing out on a sale. My old theater didn't carry them either, so they just let me bring my own."

"You are welcome to leave your malted milk balls with me. And may I interest you in one of our tasty chocolate confections to enjoy with your popcorn?"

Tom and I stared each other down for a few beats. He steepled his fingers like a Bond villain, and I noticed he was trying to hide a grin. Like he'd been hoping to have a Whopper standoff against someone all morning.

Finally, I snapped, "Fine." I pulled out my carton and peeled open the spout on one side. Shaking out a large handful of the chocolaty balls, I defiantly shoved them into my mouth and started chewing in his face with a loud crunch, crunch, crunch.

I found his wide-eyed reaction satisfying enough to push a second handful into my already bulging cheeks.

Which was exactly when the best-looking boy I'd ever seen in real life swooped in behind him. It was Colton.

Everything in the theater lobby shifted to slow motion when I saw him for the first time. I could practically feel my pupils dilate. My hearing sharpened. I began to salivate. Literally. As in, the milk balls in my mouth were dissolving into thick chocolate drool.

Colton — who I immediately dubbed "Drop-dead handsome-face" before I...