“Holtzy?” Patty’s voice echoes through the dark firehouse. If she didn’t know Holtzmann’s propensity for working late into the night, she might have thought the building empty. Instead, she bets Holtzmann is wearing a pair of headphones while blasting the Spice Girls and bopping around dangerous equipment.
Her assumption is proven right as she crests the stairs to the second floor just in time to hear Holtz belting out the last few lines of Wannabe. Holtz has been on a nineties pop kick for the past month or so, and Patty isn’t sure if she should be relieved that Holtz is into more than 80s dance jams or concerned for Holtz’s eardrums. She holds back a moment and watches Holtz dance to a table full of pipes.
As Holtz picks up a selection and peers down the hole, Patty strides forward and places her hand on Holtz’s shoulder. Holtz is the chillest person she’s ever met and so doesn’t flinch at the sudden, unexpected contact. Rather, Holtz spins and grins at her, as if she’s been expected. She wishes she were that relaxed about the unknown; while she shies away from perceived danger, Holtz waltzes straight in and makes herself at home.
That’s one of the things about Holtz that she really likes.
“Pattycake,” Holtz greets. “Why are you here at really late o’clock?”
“Don’t lie. You wanted to party.”
Patty rolls her eyes and folds her arms over her chest. “Right. That’s exactly right.”
Holtz takes her headphones out and presses play on the boombox rather than her Walkman. Patty expects Devo or the Madonna, but the music that blasts out is Stand by Me. As Ben E. King’s smooth voice fills the room, Holtz offers her a hand.
“Holtzmann. I want to talk to you. Not dance with you.”
“Same thing, really.” Holtz wiggles her fingers until Patty latches on. “Y’see, I don’t think you really know a person until you’ve danced with ‘em. And I’ve been Joe Biden my time, waiting to get to know you.”
“Really, Holtz? Tryin’ to win me over with vice presidential puns?”
Patty dips Holtz back, giving herself a moment to think through an appropriate answer. She doesn’t necessarily want to encourage Holtzmann’s ridiculous behavior, but she’s also smitten. As she pulls Holtz back to her chest, she can’t think of an adequate answer; even a simple yes or no escapes her. Holtz stares at her, waiting patiently, and she gingerly licks her lips.
Patty wishes she were braver. She panics, wondering if Holtz can take anything seriously. She loves who Holtzmann is, but if she’s going to take this leap of faith, she needs to know that this isn’t just Holtzmann’s eager and playful flirting--the same way Holtz seems to make a sport out of making Erin blush blood orange. “Is this a joke to you?”
“Sorry, defense mechanism.” Holtz tries to tug away, but Patty holds her close. “When--when it matters, I can’t help myself.”
“That’s not a real answer.”
“And you never answered if my puns were working.”
Sensing that Holtzmann is a moment from bounding away and pretending like this intense moment never happened, Patty leans down and kisses the corner of Holtzmann’s mouth. “They are,” she whispers, her breath warm on Holtz’s chin.
Holtzmann chases her back as she withdraws, practically clambering her after standing on the tip of her toes doesn’t negate the height difference. Their lips connect, and Patty understands implicitly that this is no joke. She closes her eyes and loses herself in the kiss as Stand by Me fades out and is replaced by Is This Love?
