Chapter 83: Smooth Talker
[Name: Holly Houston]
[Temptation Level: 52%]
David stared at the notification for a moment before dismissing it.
’Plus one since last night... that’s promising.’
He didn’t want to think too hard about what that meant -- about what she might have been thinking about while she was falling asleep. Or maybe after.
’Don’t,’ he told himself. ’Normal evening. Keep it normal.’
He adjusted the small bag in his hand and raised his fist to knock, rapping once against the door before taking a step back. Planted himself like a man who had absolutely no business being nervous about knocking on his neighbor’s door.
A few seconds passed. Then the sound of movement inside.
The door swung open.
Holly had her hair pulled up, a high ponytail that should have made her look sporty, casual, the way she always did at the gym. It did not have that effect. The sweater she was wearing stopped at the very top of her thighs, just long enough to answer absolutely none of the questions it raised, and for a brief moment he genuinely could not tell if she was wearing anything beneath it. The ponytail bounced when she stepped forward. So did other things.
Her eyes landed on him and she froze.
Just for a half-second , barely anything , but it was there. Her cheeks went from neutral to pink in roughly the span of a blink, and she pulled the door a little closer to herself on instinct before catching it.
"David." She said his name like she was testing it. Took another moment to look at him , just him, a full sweep from the top down , before her expression settled into something she was clearly trying to keep casual.
"You, uh." She cleared her throat. "You keep looking better every time I see you."
She said it like she hadn’t meant to. Like the words had simply escaped without checking with the rest of her first.
David gave her a small smile. "Thank you." He lifted the bag slightly. "Hey."
Holly blinked, then looked at the bag, then back at him. "Hey." A beat. "Did you bring me... snacks?"
"Chocolate. From that place on the second floor of the East Market. Figured I’d come with something."
"You figured right." She was already stepping aside, pulling the door back open. She hesitated just long enough that he noticed, then nodded toward the inside. "Come in."
He stepped through.
The apartment was compact in the way most units in the building were, but Holly had made it work.
The living space folded into itself, a small dining table pushed against one wall, a loveseat and coffee table making up the living room, all of it sharing the same square footage without any of it feeling crowded. She’d thrown a rug down that tied the couch area together, a couple of framed prints on the walls that looked like she’d actually chosen them rather than grabbed whatever was on sale.
Through the open bedroom door, he could make out two beds, pushed toward opposite walls, a narrow gap between them. A single window above the far one. He glanced at it for just a second before he turned back around.
"Nice place," he said.
Holly was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms folded loosely. "It’s small."
"Still nice."
She tilted her head like she wasn’t sure if he meant it, then decided to take it. "Yeah, okay, maybe."
He moved toward the couch and set the bag down on the coffee table, taking in the paused screen on the TV. She’d been here a while before he came. Blanket, show, the whole setup. He’d interrupted something.
"You didn’t have to stop whatever you were watching."
"I wasn’t really watching it." She pushed off the counter, crossed her arms a little tighter. "I was just... sigh... that doesn’t matter right now."
A beat.
"We haven’t really had time to talk," she said. "Not properly. Since we- " She stopped. Let the sentence trail off.
"Since our date," David finished.
She looked at him. The pink from earlier came back, quieter this time, just at the edges of her cheeks. "I wasn’t going to say that."
"I know."
"I was going to say since we became closer." She lifted her chin slightly. "That’s what I was going to say."
"Sure."
"It is."
"I believe you."
She pointed at him. "You don’t."
"I completely believe you."
Holly stared at him for a moment longer, then turned away to hide whatever her face was doing. "I hate you a little bit."
"Little bit," he agreed.
She came around the side of the couch and dropped down onto it, pulling her legs up beneath her. The sweater rode slightly with the motion, letting David view her short tights which she wore under the sweater. She reached for the remote and tapped the cushion beside her without looking at him. "Come. Look at what I’ve got queued up."
She picked it up the bag he had gotten for her, crinkled the edge open, and peered inside. Something in her expression shifted into the particular kind of pleased that people try not to show when they’re succeeding. "Mm! It smells so yummy... I already feel like I love it."
"Of course you will... you really think I won’t pull up with the best snacks for you?"
Holly’s eyes lingered for a moment before they darted up to his.
"You say that like I’m someone special..."
"Who said you weren’t?"
Once more, the faint redness of her cheeks was evident, only for a slight moment ,before she turned her eyes away, a sheepish smile drawing on her face.
"Smooth talker... Hehe."
David simply chuckled.
"I also have popcorn." She was already standing back up, disappearing toward the kitchen. He heard the faint pop of a cabinet, the shake of a bag.
A minute later she came back out holding a bowl, settled in next to him , closer than before, her knee finding the side of his thigh as she dropped in, like the couch had simply arranged them that way.
She set the popcorn on her lap, looked at the screen, then looked up at him. "Alright. Movie."
"What are we watching?"
She picked up the remote, pointed it at the screen with an air of ceremony. "Scream." A short pause. "It’s a classic."
David looked at her. "You said scary movie."
"I did say scary movie."
"That’s a horror film."
"That is in fact what scary movie means, yes." She tilted her head, eyes bright with something that was not quite innocence. "Don’t tell me you’re scared."
"I’m not scared."
Her gaze lingered on him, a bit disbelieving as she stared.
"I’m a guy, Holly. I don’t get scared for scream."
She didn’t respond, not immediately. She simply stared until she had attained whatever information she wished.
"Good." She pressed play and the opening credits rolled up over a quiet suburban street, the score already doing what horror scores do. She settled back into the cushions, shoulder drifting slightly against his.
"Then this will be perfect."