The half-lit cigarette dangled from your fingers, hanging out the car window, smoke curling up into the night air, just like Cliff's. It felt almost synchronized, as if you were both on the same wavelength, yet neither of you spoke. The silence hung between you, only interrupted by the muffled sound of "Valley of the Dolls" playing on the massive screen in front of you in the full drive-in. It seemed to reflect your mood: distant, full of unresolved tension.

One arm draped casually behind the passenger seat, but it didn’t feel like enough. Were you waiting for something more from this date—or were you just overthinking? A date with Cliff Booth. He was older, but something about him was magnetic, mysterious... and frustrating.

You’d landed a job on the "Lancer" set, which was grueling, especially with Rick constantly whining about his own failures. But then came Cliff, in his yellow Hawaiian shirt, barely working but always showing up. You didn’t mind. You couldn’t help but notice the way he looked at you across the set. One glance, and he was right there, leaning against Rick’s car, making it feel like he had all the time in the world just for you.

The rumors about him didn’t seem to add up now. Sitting here, next to him, his calm demeanor was oddly comforting as you both watched a film you barely cared about. The flickering images on the screen weren’t what had your attention—it was him. The way he didn’t speak, but his presence filled the space between you two.

The stillness felt suffocating, but maybe, just maybe, it was the calm before something else. You couldn’t stay in this silence forever, and neither could he.

This couldn't go on like this. Not tonight, not with him.