Here I was in plain summer wear, hair casual to my shoulders and makeup untouched since morning, chomping on popcorn with no care about poise. For the person beside me had been there half my life. And not just in presence. More than anyone else, I could rely on him to save me from the clutches of darkness, whether with a reason to laugh or a lifeline of hope. He accepted me with quirks and all, respecting my opinions, of which Lord knew I had plenty. What was more, he’d always had such faith in me and my dreams that it didn’t dawn on me to believe otherwise.

On the armrest between us lay his forearm, bare up to the short sleeves of his collared shirt. Compelled, I placed my hand over his. His fingers, roughened from his factory work, angled to curl around mine. The comfort and strength from his hold, as dependable as ever, brought immeasurable calm.

Then he glanced my way, and his smile widened with amusement. Revealing why, he released my hand and brushed something from my chin—a popcorn hull. I might have been embarrassed with any other fellow. Rather, I smiled back warmly.

And in that instant, I felt something between us shift.

As his thumb lingered on my face, all signs of levity left his features. His eyes gained an intensity that hitched my breath. We held that way for an interminable moment, a sudden and distinct sense of longing further thickening the air. At the sight of his parted lips, an overwhelming impulse drew me toward him. My heartbeat quickened as my mouth neared his, close enough to feel his breath.

But then, without warning, he pulled his head back. Retracting his hand, he snapped his eyes toward the film.

Jarred, baffled, I ebbed away from the armrest.

Obviously he regretted showing a blip of attraction—if that was even what it was. Akin to my episode with Hendrik, though reversed in roles, reality might have squashed Arie’s interest. Or maybe none of it was mutual, outside of my imagination. After all, I’d leaned toward him, not the other way around.

Wishing to crawl away, I sank as far as I could into the confines of my seat. A film that ordinarily went much too fast became the slowest ever played. And for the very first time, I watched Houdini without actually watching.

Only the final frame brought welcome relief—until the cab ride home, which in comparison made the return drive with Hendrik seem a cozy, effortless trek.

***

After we entered the house, I tugged the chain on the standing lamp by the davenport solely to light the way to my room, not to pursue a strained discussion.