Holden bends forward to set the empty popcorn container on the floor, then leans closer to me, resting a hand on my thigh. Suddenly, I focus more on him than the movie. How did we get here? I mean, I know, obviously. We went on that silly date. Butwhy does it feel like I’m the one waking up in that scene? Like a chunk of our story is missing, and Holden has all the answers?
One moment we’re best friends, living our lives and circling each other on a regular basis. The next we’re having sex and going grocery shopping and planning Christmas gifts. Where was the transition?
Guilt presses down on me. Holden had asked me—very clearly—that day in my apartment if I wanted this, and my answer is the same. I do. I want it so much it feels like it’s sucking the air from my lungs. I ache for him. But even back then, when he’d asked, I already felt like he was fifty yards ahead in the pool and I was scrambling to catch up. We went from being friends to basically living together almost overnight. Holden is over all the time. He checks in all the time, buys me food, does my laundry. It’s all good things. But I haven’t had a chance to process it all because he’s always there. Every day.
I don’t reach for Holden’s hand, but I don’t pull away either.
After the movie, we sit in silence for a moment as the crowd clears. Then we walk out together. I look around for Miles and Sophie, but I don’t see them. In the car, Holden turns the music down. And instantly my mind goes back to that first silly date, where I’d told him he should keep the radio low if he wants his date to actually hear him.
That day had changed everything. Sometimes I wish I could go back, but not because I want to end this. I just wish I felt as certain about Holden and I now as I did then.
Back at the apartment, I slip out of my shoes and walk to the kitchen for water.
Holden is eyeing the duffle bags on the floor. Our trip is less than a week away.
“Do you have everything you need?”
I nod. “Yup. Getting there.”
“Need my help with any of it?”
His question is such a Holden thing to say, yet it grates on my patience.
“I’m fine.”
“You sure? I can—”
“I said I’ve got it, Holden.”
The sharpness in my voice cracks through the apartment.
Holden stills near the couch, his expression tightening almost instantly.
For a second, guilt punches through the static in my head, but it’s buried beneath exhaustion so deep I can’t fully process it. I fold my arms and look away, hating the sudden heaviness to the room now.
Everythingfeels heavy now. The movies. The crowds. The constant awareness of Holden beside me. People looking at us. Their unsaid opinions. The unspoken expectation of future events.Holden’sexpectations.
I’m drowning in it and I can’t come up for air.
“I was just asking,” he says finally.
“I know.” I rub one arm. “I just—”
The words jam somewhere behind my ribs. My gaze catches on theotherbag on the floor. The one he’s been stuffing full of things for us to take too. An inflatable raft for the lake, marshmallow skewers that look like tiny swords, extra sunscreen. Each time I see it, I catch a glimpse of what this weekend is supposed to be, and it makes me tense.
I don’t know if I can handle a weekend with my family without an emotional reset.
And that’s when it hits me.
I know what I need even if it’s going to be hard to ask for it.
“Can we just…” I swallow hard. “I think I need a few days before the trip. Alone, I mean.”
Holden goes completely still.
My stomach drops instantly.
“I just—I need to wrap my head around all this without a bajillion people watching our every move.”
