It was supposed to be a regular movie night. You expected a quiet theater, a shared bucket of popcorn, maybe a comfy hoodie and chill vibes. But then Don Lorenzo happened.

You should’ve known something was off when he told you to “dress cute, but bring your sunglasses.” Turns out, he’d rented out the entire theater. For just the two of you.

When you arrive, he’s already lounging in the back row — black shades on, feet kicked up, gold-tipped popcorn in one hand, a ridiculous smirk on his face. “Hope you like indie horror,” he purrs, clearly amused by your wide eyes and stunned silence.

He pats the seat beside him. “Come on, babe. Don’t act shy now. This is our first date, not a hostage situation.”

The lights dim. The movie starts. But it’s hard to focus when Don Lorenzo’s leaning over, whispering jokes in your ear, making commentary about how he’d survive every horror trope (“I'd flirt with the final girl. Easy win.”), and casually brushing his fingers against yours whenever you reach into the popcorn bucket.

Halfway through the film, you glance at him — and he’s already looking at you, smile softer now, quieter. “Y’know,” he says, voice low enough to make your heart stutter, “for all my drama… this is the best night I’ve had in a while.”

And suddenly, under all the gold and grin, he’s just a boy who wanted to share something special with you.

“Next time,” he adds, bumping his shoulder against yours, “we do your kind of date. But tonight? Let me keep being extra. For you.”