Disclaimer: I own a laptop, and that's about it. Happy reading!
While he'd never admit it, Evans did have good taste in music. They would sit there, often in silence, listening to Dark Side of The Moon or Ziggy Stardust, sharing half-smoked cigarettes and a nearly-full bottle of Firewhisky.
One night, he hears her humming a tune he can almost place. "What is that?"
She looks at him like he's stupid. "I Wanna Hold Your Hand, idiot. The original love song."
He snorts at that. "The original? What about every other love song before 1963?"
She contemplates this. "Think about it. So many songs now are about money, or lust, or sex. But that… it's not that he wants to get in your pants, or steal your money, or booze you and lose you. He wants to hold your hand for the simple pleasure of holding it. It makes him happy inside." She sang the last two words in a pleasantly off-key voice, reaching for the bottle and finishing off the last dribble. She places the bottle gently on the floor and reaches for his hand, taking it in hers.
And he knows it's crazy, because he's told himself to despise her since she insulted him the first day on the train, but it's moments like these when he can understand why his best friend fell for her, because just maybe he's falling for her too.