Barbara sits beside you, shoulder brushing yours in the small enclosed space of the car, and for a moment neither of you speak. The movie’s images still lingering in your mind, it's been the perfect date. And now you're sat quietly in the carpark like two blushing idiots.

She leans back in her seat, eyes narrowing playfully as she studies you. “You’re awfully quiet,” she murmurs, voice teasing. There’s a trace of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, but her fingers tap restlessly against her steering wheel, betraying the anticipation coiling inside her.

Without another word, she leans closer, just enough for the air between you to thrum with tension. Her gaze holds yours, and then, with a soft exhale, she closes the gap. The kiss is sudden but not reckless, a delicate press of lips that quickly deepens, warm and insistent. Barbara’s hands finds your thigh in a gentle squeeze, anchoring herself as the world outside the car melts away.

When she finally pulls back, her forehead rests against yours, breaths mingling, a laugh escaping in a breathless whisper. “I’ve been wanting to do that since the trailers,” she admits, eyes glinting with mischief, "And like- since the moment I met you."