Chapter 86: Finally! A Kiss
"...It’s getting harder to pay attention."
The words settled into the room.
David didn’t answer.
Not because he didn’t know what to say.
Because answering too quickly would’ve been easier than asking himself why she’d said it.
On the television, the woman gripped the steering wheel with both hands, headlights cutting through the empty road ahead. She kept checking the rear-view mirror every few seconds.
Nothing.
Then again.
Nothing.
The soundtrack refused to relax.
Low strings.
A slow heartbeat buried beneath them.
A few minutes ago Holly would’ve made another comment about how obvious the music was.
Now...
She’d gone quiet.
David looked at her instead of the screen.
She was facing the television.
He wasn’t convinced she was watching it.
It wasn’t the first time she’d drifted somewhere else tonight.
The difference was...
Earlier she’d always found a joke before the silence lasted too long.
Now she didn’t seem interested in rescuing herself.
On the screen, the woman finally exhaled.
The radio crackled.
A distorted voice whispered through the speakers.
"You should’ve stayed..."
The woman slapped the radio off.
"...Okay," Holly murmured.
"That one was actually creepy."
David smiled.
"You finally admitted it."
"I admitted that was creepy."
"So we’re making progress."
"Don’t get used to it."
"You’ve spent an hour arguing with this movie."
"I’ve been improving it."
"You’ve been rewriting it."
"Somebody has to."
Her answer came quickly.
Too quickly.
Like she’d reached for the first familiar version of herself she could find.
David noticed.
Whenever the conversation wandered somewhere she wasn’t ready for...
She always found her way back to the movie.
Not because she cared that much about horror films.
Because the movie never asked difficult questions.
People did.
The woman on screen slowed the car to a stop.
She stared through the rain-covered windshield.
An old farmhouse stood in the distance.
Dark.
Silent.
Waiting.
"...She’s going back?" Holly frowned.
"Looks like it."
"No."
She shook her head.
"Absolutely not."
The woman opened the car door anyway.
Holly let out a long sigh.
"Some people genuinely want to die."
David laughed under his breath.
"You’d leave."
"I’d already be halfway home."
"You don’t know where home is."
"I’d figure it out on the way."
"You’ve thought about this."
"I’ve had years of—" She paused. "Yeah. I have."
He looked at her again. She sounded more like herself now. Confident. Playful. But there was something missing. Usually, after making a joke, Holly would glance at him. Just for a second. Checking whether he’d laughed. Whether he’d understood. Tonight...
Her eyes never left the television.
It almost felt deliberate.
Like looking at him required more courage than she’d expected.
David’s gaze drifted lower.
Their hands were still intertwined.
She hadn’t mentioned it again.
Neither had he.
He found that strangely... comforting.
Not because he was holding her hand.
Because she’d stopped treating it like an accident.
The movie reclaimed the room.
The woman eased the farmhouse door open.
Dust drifted through the beam of her flashlight.
Everything inside looked untouched.
Furniture hid beneath faded white sheets.
A grandfather clock stood frozen in the hallway.
Its pendulum hadn’t moved in years.
"Hello?"
Her voice disappeared into the silence.
No answer.
Only the groan of old timber.
Holly frowned.
"...She’s alone, isn’t she?"
"Maybe."
"...That’s somehow worse."
David nodded toward the screen.
"You’ve changed your mind."
"I adapt to new information."
"You mean you’re making exceptions again."
"I prefer ’being reasonable.’"
He smiled.
"You redefine ’reasonable’ a lot."
"It keeps life interesting."
For the first time in several minutes...
She looked at him.
Not a quick glance. Not one of the little stolen looks she’d been giving him all evening. She actually looked. There was a question in her eyes.
One she hadn’t decided whether to ask.
Then the floor upstairs creaked.
Thump.
...
Thump.
...
Thump.
Both of them instinctively looked back at the television.
"...Don’t," Holly whispered at the screen.
"Please don’t go upstairs."
The woman looked toward the staircase.
"...Hello?"
Holly closed her eyes.
"Oh, she’s definitely going upstairs."
"You sound disappointed."
"I was beginning to believe she’d learned."
David chuckled.
"You forgive people quickly."
"I also lose faith quickly."
The corner of his mouth lifted.
There it was again.
The easy rhythm between them.
Only now...
It felt quieter.
Less like two people trying to fill the room.
More like two people who didn’t mind leaving parts of it silent.
David found himself wondering when that had happened.
He wasn’t sure.
He only knew he didn’t want to interrupt it. So he didn’t. He simply let the movie play. And kept his hand exactly where it was.
On the television, the woman stood in the middle of the road, breathing hard. The headlights washed over the empty highway ahead.
For the first time since she’d escaped the house... Nothing happened. No shadow crossing the road. No figure in the rear-view mirror. Just rain.
"...They’re giving her a break," Holly said.
David looked at the screen.
"Or making her think they are."
She let out a quiet hum.
"You’re enjoying this too much."
"I picked it."
"You picked psychological warfare."
"I picked a horror movie."
"Same thing."
He smiled.
There it was again.
That version of Holly that surfaced whenever she forgot herself.
Only this time it lasted a little longer.
She caught him looking.
Her voice faded before another joke could come.
The silence settled between them again.
David found himself studying her instead of the television.
She still wasn’t pulling her hand away.
If anything...
Her fingers had settled more comfortably around his.
Like they’d quietly decided where they belonged.
The thought should’ve made him nervous.
Instead...
It made something click.
All evening he’d been wondering whether he was imagining things.
Whether every glance, every excuse, every inch she’d drifted closer had meant anything at all.
But Holly wasn’t the kind of person who forgot personal space.
She wasn’t the kind of person who held someone’s hand for this long just because it happened once.
She definitely wasn’t the kind of person who went quiet.
Not like this.
The Holly he knew always had another comeback waiting.
Tonight...
She’d run out of them.
Not because she couldn’t think of one.
Because she didn’t seem to want to hide behind them anymore.
Almost as though she felt his eyes on her, Holly finally spoke.
"...You’re doing it again."
David blinked.
"Doing what?"
"Thinking."
He laughed softly.
"You can tell?"
"You get this look."
"What look?"
She turned her head just enough to meet his eyes.
"Like you’re trying to solve a puzzle."
"And if I am?"
A tiny smile touched the corner of her mouth.
"Good luck."
She meant it as another deflection.
He knew she did.
Normally, he would’ve let her have it.
Tonight...
He didn’t.
He held her gaze.
She held his.
For a second.
Then another.
Neither of them looked back at the movie.
The rain on the television.
The music.
The dialogue.
It all blurred into distant noise.
David wasn’t thinking anymore.
Not really.
He’d spent the whole evening questioning what every little moment meant.
At some point...
The question had answered itself.
He lifted his free hand slowly.
Not giving her a reason to startle.
His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face.
She didn’t move.
Didn’t joke.
Didn’t pretend not to understand.
She only looked at him.
Close enough now that he could hear the small catch in her breathing.
David closed the remaining distance and then... Their lips met gently. For a heartbeat...The rest of the world disappeared as their lips remained licked. Then, David gently pulled back, his eyes still locked on her.
He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t. Instead, he leaned further, locking his lips on hers once more