The rest of the drive was spent with the music cranked up so high that the windows rattled in their frames. Partly because it was good music, but mostly because it kept her from finding more ways to mess with him.
Larry couldn't stop replaying what had just happened in his head. She'd never done that before. Sure, she was always nuzzling into him, dozing off on him, or casually wrapping herself around him like it was second nature — but flirting? That was new. Maybe it was exactly what she said: he couldn't tease her back while he was driving, and it gave her the confidence to try it.
He shot a quick glance at her when they stopped at a light, catching her staring out the window with a small, satisfied smirk. Like she knew she was still on his mind and was absolutely reveling in it.
Well, two could play at that game.
The moment they parked at the mall, he unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over, planting a hand against the door beside her head. The movement startled her enough that she pressed herself flat against it, her wide eyes blinking up at him in shock.
For a moment, he just looked at her, leaning close enough that their faces were inches apart. Her glasses had slid slightly down her nose, and her lips parted as though she wanted to say something but couldn't quite manage. Then she started giggling — a breathless, nervous sound that built into full-blown hysterics — and her hands flew up to cover her flushed face.
"That's what you get," he said, his own laugh escaping in a breathless huff as he pulled back into his seat.
She let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a deflating balloon, dragging her hands down her face dramatically before slumping against the door like she was done. "You're the worst," she mumbled through her hands, her voice muffled and full of exasperated laughter.
"And you started it," he shot back, smirking as he grabbed his keys and opened his door. "Come on, we've got shit to find."
She whined, pulling her hands away from her face to fish her wallet out of her backpack. She shoved it into her hoodie pocket with a grumble, then swung her door open and hopped out of the truck. When he rounded the front of the van to meet her, she stood there waiting, cheeks still tinged a darker shade, her pout aimed squarely at him.
"Fuck you," she mumbled, hunching her shoulders against the cool breeze as it ruffled her hair.
"You wish," he hummed, snorting when her pout broke into a laugh that she tried, and failed, to suppress.
Shaking her head, she fell into step beside him as they walked toward the mall entrance. Her hands were shoved into her pockets, and her face was all but tucked into her collar, but she still glanced up at the modest building with curiosity.
"This is it?" she asked, brow furrowing as they approached.
"This is it," he replied, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.
"'Tis, uh…" She trailed off, her eyes flicking over the worn exterior and the handful of cars scattered across the lot. "Smaller than I thought."
"Yeah, it's not exactly the peak of luxury," he admitted with a chuckle, pushing the glass door open for her.
Inside, the mall wasn't much better. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting a pale glow on the scuffed floors. Most of the storefronts were occupied, but just barely. A shoe store, a local clothing boutique, a game store that seemed to double as a comic shop, and a sad little food court with only three open stalls were the first things people saw when they walked in.
Penguin took it all in, her gaze sweeping across the sparse setup. "This is… kind of depressin'," she murmured.
"It's Nockfell," he said with a shrug. "We're lucky we even have a mall at all. You're not gonna find a Macy's or a Build-A-Bear here."
"No kidding." She wrinkled her nose, scanning the storefronts again. "I usually just hit up the Walmart. Back home, all the malls are really full and fun and colorful! I didn't think the mall here would be this…" She gestured vaguely, searching for the word.
"Bare?"
"Yeah."
"Well, welcome to small-town life," he said dryly. "Let's see if we can even find a craft store in this place."
He knew exactly where the craft store was, but the way she laughed at his little jab made the fib worth it.
Their steps almost echoed in the damn place, with so few people walking around. The mall had always been this way — quiet, with barely enough shops to justify its existence — but now, trailing behind Penguin, he found himself noticing just how empty it really was.
It didn't bother him much, normally. He wasn't a big "mall guy" to begin with, and he'd been here enough times to know the place like the back of his hand. Still, he couldn't help feeling a tiny twinge of embarrassment as she walked next to him, her eyes scanning the stores like she was looking for something, maybe just signs of life.
God, why did he even care? It's not like the state of the mall was his fault, and it's not like this was a date or anything. If it was a date, though, he definitely wouldn't have brought her here. He would've — what? Taken her to the city? Found something cooler to do? His chest tightened at the thought, and he shook his head like that would make the ridiculous idea disappear.
It was just a quick errand to pick up some craft supplies. No big deal.
Even so, he felt the need to give her something better, even if it was just taking the long way around the mall. He slowed his pace, letting her take the lead and pretending to scan the shops they passed. He wasn't ashamed to admit he dragged their route out longer than necessary. The quiet between them wasn't awkward, it rarely was, but she was walking close enough that their arms brushed with almost every step, and he found he didn't mind the silence. If anything, he liked it.
As soon as he subtly led them to the right spot and she spotted the craft store, she perked up like a kid seeing the ice cream truck. Before he could say anything, she grabbed his arm and tugged him forward, practically dragging him toward the entrance.
"Alright, alright, I'm coming," he chuckled, letting her pull him along without resistance.
He managed to free his arm just long enough to wave at the cashier, a bored-looking guy he vaguely recognized from school, before she latched onto him again and steered him toward one of the aisles.
"I made a list last night," she said, fishing a slightly crumpled piece of paper out of her hoodie pocket with her free hand. "Okay, first thing: thin cardboard for the base of the poster."
He hummed as they scanned the shelves, letting her lead the way but occasionally pointing at a few options. "That one could work, I guess," he said, gesturing toward a pack of bright white poster boards.
Penguin shook her head. "Too thin. I don't want it to curl at the edges." She leaned down to check another stack, pressing a fingertip against the corner of a sturdier-looking board. "What about this one?"
"That's better," he said, crouching beside her to test the weight of the board. "Yeah, this'll hold up."
She smiled triumphantly, straightening up with the board in hand. "See? Teamwork."
"Sure, if you call me doing all the thinking 'teamwork,'" he teased, standing up and nudging her shoulder lightly.
"Oh, please," she shot back with a grin, waving the list at him. "Next up: markers. You're the one who's worked with color the most, so 'm leaving this one to you."
He rolled his eyes, but he followed her to the next aisle anyway. As they reached the rows of markers, she grabbed a pack almost immediately, holding it out to him like it was a treasure. "These good?"
He gave the pack a quick glance and frowned. "Eh, those dry out fast. You'll get, like, one project out of them, tops."
"Good to know," she said seriously, putting the pack back and grabbing another. "What about these?"
"They bleed through," he said.
She made an exaggerated gasp. "Not the dreaded bleed-through!"
He snorted. "I'm just saying, you don't want your poster looking like a murder scene."
She laughed, handing him the list with a dramatic sigh. "Okay, fine."
As he scanned the shelves, Penguin stood beside him, watching him with a look of genuine interest, like his opinions on art supplies were the most important thing she'd hear all day. He tried to brush it off, but the way she nodded seriously every time he gave a suggestion was… well, kind of adorable.
After a few minutes, they had everything they needed: the cardboard, a pack of high-quality markers, glue sticks, and some colorful tape she insisted would 'add pizzazz.'
"You know, I think you might be more into this project than I am," he teased as they headed to the checkout.
"Someone has to balance out your lack of enthusiasm," she quipped, grinning at him over her shoulder.
He shook his head, but the smile tugging at his lips was hard to hide.
It didn't take long for her to pay, though he tried to fight her so he could be the one to do it. He had barely started pulling out his wallet when she stomped on his toes.
"Hey, what the hell—" he hissed, wincing as he hunched over and grabbed at his foot. By the time he looked up, she had already handed the cashier the money.
"Too slow, Johnson," she teased, swinging the bag onto her arm as she stuck her tongue out at him.
He straightened up, glaring at her with mock indignation, and before he could think twice, his hand darted forward, aiming for her tongue. She gasped, startled for half a second, before snapping her teeth at him with lightning speed. He barely pulled his hand back in time, her teeth just missing his fingers.
"Holy shit, are you a dog or something?" he asked, clutching his hand dramatically to his chest as she burst into laughter, already turning to head toward the store's exit. Honestly, he should've seen that coming. Travis grumbled about her biting him all the time.
"I like to bite," she grinned back at him, all teeth.
The flush that rose to his cheeks was not needed, thank you. He shot her a glare, but the heat stayed, stubborn and unwelcome. Thankfully, whatever effect she was having on him lessened when she stopped abruptly in front of the store and turned to him, looking genuinely puzzled.
"Where's the food court?"
He blinked, then couldn't help but snort. "How do you lose the food court in a place this small?"
"Listen, 'm new here," she said defensively, gesturing vaguely at the mall around them. "All the stores look the same. 'Tis disorienting."
He shook his head, gesturing for her to follow him. "C'mon, it's this way."
She nodded, stepping closer as they walked. He half-expected her to grab onto his sleeve or hook her arm through his, like she usually did. Instead, her hand slipped into his.
The mall's echoing quiet faded into the background, and every nerve in his hand lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree. Her fingers curled around his palm like it was second nature, and he couldn't stop his brain from hyper-focusing on the way her thumb brushed lightly against his knuckles. It wasn't like they hadn't touched before, hell, she was practically glued to him half the time, but this was different.
She was still talking about something — how malls back home were easier to navigate, maybe? — but he couldn't focus. Not when her hand was still in his, warm and soft, like it belonged there. And the wildest part? She didn't even seem to notice. Like it wasn't a big deal. Like she wasn't currently scrambling his brain like an egg in a frying pan.
His heartbeat hammered in his ears, his eyes flicking down to their joined hands. It felt so natural, but he couldn't stop staring, afraid the moment might slip away if he looked anywhere else. He barely registered the few turns they took until the faint buzz of chatter and the smell of food clued him in that they'd arrived at the food court.
She slowed as they neared the open space, her grip faltering slightly like she'd only just realized what she was doing. The moment her fingers loosened, though, he tightened his hold. His thumb brushed against hers as he carefully laced their fingers together.
Her steps hiccuped, and when he glanced at her, he caught the way her gaze dropped to their hands. Her expression was unreadable for a moment before she looked up at him, her wide eyes searching his.
He let a small smile curve his lips and gave her hand a gentle tug, bringing her closer until her shoulder brushed against his arm. Her cheeks flushed, a pretty red that spread all the way to her ears, and she quickly ducked her head to hide the growing smile on her face.
Finally.
That was the only thought ricocheting through his brain as they walked toward one of the sad little fast-food spots in the court. They were holding hands. Holding hands. Sure, they'd hugged and nuzzled and been all over each other in other ways, but that was kinda casual. This?
Dammit, this was different.
Nuzzling and cuddling could be platonic. Hand-holding could be platonic too, technically — but it could also be romantic. This felt romantic as hell. His pulse thundered in his ears, and he wasn't sure if it was from nerves, excitement, or some embarrassing mix of both.
'We're going up a base', his brain supplied unhelpfully.
For a moment, he couldn't help but steal a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. She looked so content, her lips tugged into the faintest of smiles, her fingers still laced with his like they belonged there. He didn't know if she even realized how much this meant to him, but the way she held on, steady and sure, made him hope she did. Either way, his chest ached in the best way possible.
The rest of the line moved in a blur. He was pretty sure he rattled off their order on autopilot because one second, they were waiting in line, and the next, he was sitting at a wobbly table with a tray of food in front of him. The transition barely registered, except for one glaring detail: her hand had slipped from his when she sat down across from him.
That simple absence was enough to leave his palm tingling. It was ridiculous, he knew, but the fleeting warmth of her hand was already missed. He flexed his fingers once, twice, as if he could coax the sensation back, before catching himself and shoving the hand in his pocket.
She didn't seem to notice, too busy unwrapping her burger as she glanced around the food court. "Wow, this place really is dead," she said, her tone light, but her nose crinkled just enough to make him grin. "Kinda thought there'd at least be, like, background music or somethin'."
"I told you," he sighed, taking out his own food.
"Let's eat so we can get the fuck outta here," she huffed, biting into her burger. She froze midchew, her eyebrows furrowing as she inspected it with a suspicious squint. After a moment, she shrugged and took another bite, chewing slower this time.
Curious, he bit into his own burger and immediately understood her hesitation. It wasn't exactly bad — just normal. The kind of food you only eat because you're hungry, not because you enjoy it. Mediocre at best.
They fell into a rhythm as they ate, the ambient hum of the food court filling the silence between bites. Occasionally, she made a face at her food, the corner of her lips twitching like she wanted to say something but didn't. Instead, she caught his eye and gave an exaggerated shrug, like, What can you do? He smirked and shook his head, raising his soda cup in a silent toast to their shared culinary disappointment.
They didn't talk, not really. Every now and then, she'd point something out — a flickering light above them, a toddler throwing a tantrum at a nearby table — and he'd glance over, both of them sharing an unspoken commentary with raised eyebrows or subtle smirks or giggles.
It was easy. Simple. Almost domestic in a way that made his chest tighten again, that ache from earlier spreading a little deeper. He found himself dragging out his meal, taking smaller bites just to match her pace, even though he could've finished his burger in half the time. Her foot bumped his under the table, either accidentally or on purpose, he couldn't tell, and she shot him an innocent closed-lip smile that didn't fool him for a second. His lips twitched as he resisted the urge to retaliate.
It was nice.
What was nicer, though, was what came after. Once their food was gone and their trash tossed into the nearest bin, he reached out first, lacing their fingers together before she had the chance to second-guess herself. He'd noticed her shooting nervous little glances at his hand, like she was debating it but couldn't quite summon the courage.
He didn't hesitate.
Her hand slipped into his easily, her fingers tightening around his like she'd been waiting for this moment. And the shy, absolutely elated grin she gave him? It hit him like a sucker punch straight to the chest. She held on just as firmly as before, her steps almost bouncy as they headed toward the exit. And if her thumb brushed against his every now and then as they walked, well, he wasn't about to complain. It felt… right.
The whole way back to her house, they held hands. Neither of them spoke a word; they didn't need to. As he drove, he kept her hand in his, only letting go when he needed to shift gears, and even then, his hand always found its way back to hers. The music was cranked loud enough to vibrate the windows again, and every now and then, she moved their joined hands in rhythm, bobbing her head to the beat with a smile that made his chest ache.
It was so simple, so easy, so… lovely. He never wanted it to end.
But of course, all good things had to.
When he pulled into her driveway, the golden glow of the setting sun spilled over everything, painting her house and the yard in warm hues of orange and red. He sighed, reluctantly pulling his hand away, earning a pout from her that made him laugh softly.
"You gotta go," he said, his voice light but his grin genuine.
"Mmnnnfine…" she grumbled, reaching down to grab her bag and placing it in her lap. She opened the door but paused, twisting back toward him. "I'll get started on the sketch tonight," she said, hesitating for just a moment before a smile softened her features. "This was honestly pretty fun, Larry. Thank you."
He didn't get a chance to reply before she leaned toward him, and he automatically mirrored the motion. A cheek semi-kiss — her usual way of saying goodbye. He'd grown used to it by now, so he thought nothing of it.
Until she tilted her head.
Her lips brushed his cheek softly at first, then pressed a little more firmly, lingering just long enough to make his heart take off like a firework. A warmth bloomed under his skin, spreading through him in waves, and by the time she pulled back, his brain was struggling to catch up.
She wasn't looking at him, her gaze darting anywhere but his face, her cheeks blazing red. Before he could say or do anything, she all but jumped out of his truck, slamming the door shut behind her.
He sat there for a moment, staring at the spot where she'd been, his hand unconsciously coming up to touch his cheek. His skin still tingled from where her lips had been, and he swore he could feel the shape of her smile lingering there.
Holy shit.