James’s hand found mine in the space between our seats, his fingers threading through mine. “Hey. It’s okay.”
I squeezed his hand, grateful for the understanding. We stayed like that through the previews, hands clasped in the darkness where no one could see. It was such a small thing, but it felt monumental. A few weeks ago, the thought of holding another man’s hand would have sent me into a panic. Now, sitting here with James, it felt like the most natural thing in the world, even if I was just a little bit scared still.
The movie started, and I tried to focus on it. It was actually pretty good, funny and heartfelt in equal measure. But I kept getting distracted by James’s reactions. The way he laughed at the jokes, the subtle shift in his posture during the emotional scenes. At one point, about halfway through, he leaned over and whispered, “Thank you for bringing me.”
“It’s just a movie,” I whispered back.
“It’s not, though.” His thumb traced circles on the back of my hand. “It’s you making an effort. Doing something I wanted to do just because I wanted to do it. That matters.”
The words hit me harder than they should have. How many times had Brittany asked me to do something with her, and I’d made excuses or half-assed my way through it? How many times had I prioritized what I wanted over what she needed?
But with James, it was different. I wanted to make him smile. I wanted to see that light in his eyes when he was happy. And if that meant sitting through an animated movie about talking animals or whatever the hell this was, then that’s what I’d do.
“You’re doing it again,” James murmured, amusement in his voice.
“Doing what?”
“Staring at me instead of watching the movie.”
“Can’t help it.” The words came out before I could stop them, raw and honest in a way that probably should have scared me.
James turned to look at me fully, the movie forgotten. In the dim light, I could see the emotion in his eyes. It was something tender and vulnerable that made my breath catch.
“Kent—”
A loud laugh from someone a few rows ahead broke the moment. James glanced toward the screen, then back at me. “We should watch the movie.”
“Right. The movie.”
But neither of us looked away for another few seconds, caught in that suspended moment where everything else fell away. Then James smiled, soft and private, and turned back to the screen. His hand stayed in mine, though, warm and steady.
I forced myself to focus on the movie, actually paying attention this time. It was something about a family of creatures who had to learn to work together, with the typical animated movie beats—conflict, resolution, heartwarming message about accepting differences. The kind of thing that I usually rolled my eyes at.
Now, sitting here with James’s hand in mine, the message hit a little too close to home. Accepting differences. Learning to see past what you thought you knew about someone. Finding family in unexpected places.
By the time the credits rolled, I was more emotionally affected than I wanted to admit. James stood, stretching, and I reluctantly let go of his hand.
“So?” he asked as we filed out with the handful of other moviegoers. “What did you think?”
“It was good. Better than I expected.”
“Just good?” He bumped his shoulder against mine as we walked. “Come on, I saw you getting misty-eyed during that scene with the dad.”
“I wasnotgetting misty-eyed.”
“You totally were.” His grin was infectious. “It’s okay to have feelings, Kent. I won’t tell anyone.”
I shook my head, but I was smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe. But you like me anyway.”
The words were teasing, light, but they carried weight underneath. Because he was right. I did like him. More than like him, if I was being honest with myself. And that realization, standing in the bright lights of the theater lobby with people milling around us, should have terrified me to the core.
Instead, it felt like relief.
We headed out to the parking lot, the evening air cool against my face. James was humming something from the movie soundtrack, and I found myself memorizing this moment—the sound of his voice, the way he walked beside me like it was the most natural thing in the world, the lingering warmth where our hands had been joined.
“So, are we going out to dinner or ordering takeout at home?” I asked as we settled into my truck.
