Holland's POV
The drive back home was quiet.
Not the comfortable kind. Not the kind where silence felt shared. It was the kind where words hovered at the edge of my tongue and refused to come out, where my thoughts were louder than the hum of the engine beneath us.
I only spoke when Kastiel asked for directions to my apartment. I typed the location into the car screen.
The city lights slid past the windows, blurred streaks of gold and white. My reflection stared back at me faintly from the glass, eyes wide, lips swollen and cheeks still warm.
What happened at the cinema replayed in my mind over and over again.
The closeness.
The question.
The kiss.
My fingers twisted together in my lap, nails pressing lightly into my palms as if grounding myself would help me breathe normally again. I stole a glance at Kastiel. He looked calm, focused on the road, like he hadn't just unraveled me completely less than an hour ago.
How was that fair?
