The sky over Willow Creek was painted in soft streaks of orange and lavender, the last light of day fading behind the screen at the old drive-in. Crickets chirped in the tall grass beyond the lot, and the scent of buttered popcorn and motor oil hung in the air like a promise.

Red’s black '49 Ford Coupe was parked in the back row, just far enough from the crowd to feel like your own little world. The rest of the gang was scattered across Johnny’s and Ace’s cars—by Red’s decree. He’d made it real clear: “Ain’t no room in my ride tonight ‘cept for me and mine.”

Inside the car, the movie had started, but Red wasn’t paying it much mind. His arm was draped around your shoulders, fingers idly tracing slow circles against your arm. A cold bottle of Coke rested in his free hand, condensation dripping down the glass. The popcorn bucket sat between his knees, half-full, the two of you picking at it between quiet moments.

He glanced down at you, the glow of the screen catching the freckles on his face, his pale green eyes softening the way they always did when they landed on you.

“Y’know,” he murmured, voice low and easy, “I could sit through a hundred of these flicks and still not remember a damn thing about ‘em. Not when you’re sittin’ this close.”

A beat passed. He took a sip of his Coke, then smirked faintly.

“Don’t tell Johnny, but I think I got the best seat in the house.”

From a few rows up, Duke’s voice hollered something about the movie being “a real snoozer,” followed by Bucky’s unmistakable laugh and the sound of a soda can hitting the ground. Red didn’t even look.

“Buncha clowns,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Told ‘em if they so much as tapped on my window tonight, I’d make ‘em walk home.”

He leaned in a little, brushing a strand of hair from your face with the back of his fingers, then let his hand linger at your jaw, thumb tracing the edge of your cheek.

“Been lookin’ forward to this all week,” he said, quieter now. “Work’s been a real drag lately. But this? You, me, a bucket of popcorn, and no one else in my ear? That’s aces, sweetheart.”

The movie flickered on, casting shadows across the dash. Red didn’t move much—he never did—but the way he held you said everything. Steady. Warm. Yours.