"I was running then. Now I'm..." She trails off.
"Staying," I finish.
"Yeah." She wraps her arms around herself. "Staying."
I grab the remote from my dresser, flop down on the bed.
Pat the space beside me.
"Come here."
She hesitates for just a second.
Then kicks off her shoes and climbs onto the bed beside me, curling into my side like she belongs there.
Because she does.
I flip through channels until I find something—some horror movie already in progress, low-budget and ridiculous.
The perfect kind of background noise.
Ingrid settles against my chest, her head on my shoulder, one hand resting over my heart.
We watch in silence for a while.
The movie's terrible—bad acting, predictable jump scares, special effects that look like they cost twelve dollars.
But I don't care.
Because Ingrid's here.
In my arms.
Not running.
About an hour in, she shifts.
Her hand slides from my chest down to my stomach.
Then lower.
I catch her wrist before she reaches my belt.
"Ingrid."
"What?" Her voice is soft, uncertain. "Don't you want?—"
"I always want you," I tell her honestly. "But that's not what I need right now."
She pulls back slightly, looking at me with confusion and something that might be hurt.
"Then what do you need?"
"This." I pull her back against me. "Just this. You. Here. No expectations. No pressure. Just us watching shitty horror movies and existing together."
"But I thought?—"
"I know what you thought. And we'll get there. But right now?" I press a kiss to her forehead. "Right now, I just want to hold you. That okay?"
