It was comical really—how we both were so anxious. It was such a contrast to our first meeting on the plane. She was all independence and strong-willed attitude; I was all charming and flirty, trying to break through those walls. Somewhere along the way, we faded from those original characteristics into balls of hormones and anxiety. I felt like I was sixteen taking my crush on our first date. My heart pounded, and my palms were sweaty. The whole way to the theater, I tried to distract myself from glancing over at her. She was too sexy for her own good, especially in that Avalanche shirt, and it was going to take everything in me not to make any moves.

When I pulled into the theater parking lot, Olive laughed when she laid eyes on the marquee, which read, in bold letters: Tonight’s Showing: Die Hard.

“I figured we would come see this, in honor of watching not-so-Christmasy movies.” I grinned at her, and the corners of her lips pulled up.

When we stepped inside, I noted the oversized Christmas wreaths that adorned the tall glass windows and trees that filled the lobby, exactly like I remembered. Olive spun in a slow circle, taking in the cathedral-like ceilings and all the Christmas spirit present in the lobby. She had a tiny smile on her face, and I felt like maybe I was doing something right tonight.

I liked good action movies, and I’d always heard Die Hard was great. Unfortunately, I couldn’t focus a single bit on what was playing in front of me. About halfway through the movie, Olive’s shoulder rested against mine. That slight contact had heat spreading through me. The movie was two hours and twelve minutes of pure torture, as Olive’s hand brushed mine when we both reached for popcorn, or my knees accidentally bumped hers. The audience audibly gasped at certain scenes, so I knew when something important was happening, but I couldn’t tell you anything specific. I glanced at Olive to find her already looking at me, but when our eyes met, she quickly looked back to the screen. Her hand rested palm up on the armrest, so close to mine, and I’d wondered if it was an invitation. I wanted to find out, but I remember her earlier comment: no touching or flirting when no one else was around.

But maybe we needed a little bit of practice. I took the leap and grabbed her hand. Her tiny fingers wove through mine, and I let my thumb lightly brush against hers. She tensed slightly but then eased into my affection.

When the movie ended, I reluctantly let go of her hand, and we made our way back out to the parking lot.

“Good movie?” I asked, instantly wishing I hadn’t because I wouldn’t remember any of it.

She looked up at me. “Huh? Oh. Yeah, yeah. Really…good.”