Chapter Text
Erin didn't know exactly when she had stopped looking at Kevin. But she did, however, know exactly when she started to look at Jillian Holtzmann.
They had been getting closer since saving New York. A lot closer. Erin found herself gravitating toward her, moving her work physically closer to Jillian’s when she was working alone, despite the obvious risk of being blown up. Erin tried to turn Holtzmann’s practise into theory, calculating, frowning over the equations she wrote down rapidly, row after row. Maybe Holtzmann assumed she did it because she was sceptical of her weird experiments with materials no one would have thought to use for that purpose, but strangely usually worked anyway. But she wasn’t trying to debunk her, just understand. She didn’t, not really. There’s a madness to Holtzmann’s method that she can’t quite grasp mathematically. It’s unsettling and exciting at the same time. And beautiful. Whatever Holtzmann is doing, it’s beautiful chaos. The equations play around the board, chasing each other in an easy flow. Trying to express Holtzmann mathematically still looks like Holtzmann. It delights her.
They’re close in other ways too. When Holtzmann wants to show her something weird and wonderful, she brushes her elbow, or arm. Sometimes she put a hand on her hip. Erin thought about it, but told herself that they were all very close. She and Abby had always hugged a lot.
Abby told her that Holtzmann had probably talked more since Erin joined them than she had during their entire partnership and friendship before.
Then there was the day they chased a class two apparition, nothing too dramatic compared to saving New York city. But there was ectoplasm. It was a slimy, slimy little ghost. As usual, it seemed to be aimed at Erin, personally. But Holtzmann came, guns blazing, and took some of the brunt. She had seemed almost slime resistant up to that point. Erin’s paranoia was not diminished by the fact that the ghost seemed to lose interest in spewing slime as soon as Holtzmann became the target instead of Erin.
“Thanks.”
Erin smiled at her, thinking how unfair it was that she kind of looked cool in green slime. Jillian made a big show of blowing on the barrel of her gun, like it fired something to do with gunpowder and not protons. Erin touched a strand of gooey blond hair.
“Your hair looks green now.”
“You’re right, orange is way more stylish.”
“Ha ha.”
Her orange days were over, but Holtzmann had been strangely fond of that colour. She touched her cheek to brush some of the ectoplasm off when she heard Patty’s voice.
“If y’all are all done, there’s a ghost here. But don’t want to interrupt if y’all are having a MOMENT.”
Erin snapped out of it.
“Sorry, we’re on it.”
When they got back to the fire station, for once, Erin wasn’t the only one who needed to get herself cleaned up. Patty said something as she headed to the bathroom, but she didn’t quite process the information until it was too late. The broken lock Patty talked about was apparently the bathroom door, since she opened it and found it already occupied.
It took her a moment to realise that the person in there was Holtzmann. She’d never even seen her with her hair completely down before. It was falling in soft curls down her back, longer than Erin had assumed from the way she wore it.
"You were right. Every crack."
Holtzmann was standing there naked. Totally, gloriously naked. Her skin was so white, it looked luminous in the soft lighting. Rosy in some places, presumably from vigorous scrubbing to get the slime out. That stuff had seriously adhesive properties. There was the hint of the soft curve of a breast as Holtzmann looked over her shoulder with her eyebrows raised. Erin couldn't stop staring and she had no idea why.
"You could hand me a towel? Or you know… Not."
She shouldn't have been surprised that Jillian Holtzmann was unencumbered by nakedness. After all, she was unencumbered by most other things. She handed her a towel and tried to look anywhere but at the exposed skin and soft curves. She tried to pretend she wasn’t freaking out, but suspected that she failed miserably, as she backed out of there with an apology. When Holtz had left and it was Erin’s turn to scrub, she tried to think about anything but a naked Holtzmann. But it seems like she’d memorised every inch. She tried to tell herself it was an embarrassing moment, but in fact, it wasn’t. Holtzmann seemed completely comfortable in her own skin: Erin envied her. And she was beautiful. Erin closed her eyes. She shouldn’t have been surprised: she had found herself staring at her face often enough to realise that her eyes were extra sensitive to Jillian Holtzmann.
She came out to join the celebrations. Erin found herself inhaling the scent of clean clothes and clean Holtzmann as she walked by in one of her dandyish outfits. She winks at Erin, but not in a “you’ve just seen me naked”- kind of way. Just in the regular Holtzmann way. Then there was dancing, as always. Holtzmann behaved like a monkey on crack when she danced, but underneath all that, she could MOVE. Erin… Well, Erin probably couldn’t. And still, here she was again, dancing, like Holtzmann always somehow got her to do.
"Really? Those are your dance moves?"
Holtzmann came closer and Erin lost focus and stumbled a little, because she had the most amazing smile, all starry eyes and dimples. And she wasn’t really making fun of her either, Erin realised when she saw the warmth in the broad grin on her face. Erin looked down on her gyrating hips and the strip of skin between the crop t-shirt and her pinstripe pants. Holtzmann naked flashed in her mind and she kept looking. The soft dip above her hip was her favorite part. Or was it? She looked down on Holtzmann's full lips. She didn't even know she had favorite parts of Jillian Holtzmann, but apparently she did. Holtzmann danced closer and Erin moved toward her like she couldn't help herself. Her hips brushed Erin's and she turned around so her back brushed one of her breasts. She noticed with increasing surprise how her skin heated up and tingled where they touched.
Patty and Abby came bounding up the stairs and joined in and they all hugged and Erin was somewhere between relieved and disappointed that Holtzmann wasn't dancing close to her anymore.
Later that night, she went to bed and thought about how she could still feel the exact place where Holtzmann brushed against her earlier. Her skin was warmer there. Kind of like her life felt warmer when she was with the ghostbusters. What was she supposed to do with this deeply confusing information?
***
Yawning, Erin was shuffling toward the bathroom.
"Mornin', beautiful."
Holtzmann is wearing a fedora for some inconceivable reason, talking in one of her funny voices, vaguely Bogart. But strangely, it still made Erin feel beautiful. She didn’t always follow what Holtzmann was saying when she didn't talk about science. But she knew how she made her feel.
"Jillian Holtzmann, Vogue. Tell me about your red carpet look?"
Erin doesn't normally do conversations of any kind before coffee. But Holtzmann's good mood is contagious.
"Well, this fall I'll be mostly wearing…
"...the world's tiniest bowtie?"
"I was going to say flannel pyjama bottoms and bunny slippers, but go ahead, have your fun."
"Going for the best dressed list, good for you. Sex hair and rumpled flannel is a good look for you, by the way."
"I do not have 'sex hair'."
Holtzmann raises her eyebrows in a manner suggesting she begs to differ and went back to welding with a grin on her face.
"You'd have to have sex for that..." Erin grumbled to herself as she walked to the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror. Holtzmann kind of had a point. She smiled as she walked into the shower.
***
Holtzmann tested a new weapon on her behind the fire station that afternoon. There was a lot of gear, a lot of strapping in going on. Erin might have gotten impatient if it hadn't felt quite nice when Holtzmann held her hips or ran her fingers down her neck to check and double check things. There were jokes about imminent death of course, Erin could have done without those. But she forgot all about that when she saw what it did and felt the immense power. She was throwing fireballs from the palm of her hand. Not actually from her palm, but that's what it would look like to an audience. She got totally carried away, spending half an hour blowing things up like a vengeful god, Holtzmann whooping encouragingly in the background.
High on adrenaline, she jumped Holtzmann and hugged her and they jumped up and down and Holtzmann kissed her cheek and Erin returned it, only Holtzmann turned her head slightly, so that it was almost full on the lips. Erin froze, but Holtzmann danced away and yelled at Abby and Patty to come see the cool new weapon and left Erin a conflicted fake god in the alley.
When Patty and Abby came out, Patty said "another cool weapon for Erin" or something like that, except she put the emphasis on Erin, not on “weapon”. She and Abby looked at each other like they were about to start laughing, so Patty obviously wasn't jealous. But there was some joke here that Erin wasn't in on. Erin hated being out of the loop, especially with Abby. Abby was her loop, she was supposed to be in it. But then she showed the weapon and the others had a fit at how cool it was and then they were all hugging and jumping around like crazy people and she felt in the loop again and everything was fine. She didn't quite let go of Holtzmann after the hug and walked back into the lab with her arm around her shoulders. You could do that after someone invented a gadget that made you look like a god, right?
***
They all got invited to a formal reception held at a now formerly haunted mansion they had rid of some unsettled previous owners. Erin was really excited about it. She loved being a jumpsuit wearing ghostbuster, but she couldn’t wait to find an excuse to get dressed up and go out, it had been ages. It was short notice, so Patty had a family wedding to go to and Abby claimed she couldn’t possibly leave her current experiment unattended that weekend. She was surprised when Holtzmann swivelled around on her stool and pulled her goggles off.
“I’ll go.”
“Really?”
“Sure.”
Holtzmann shrugged. Erin had assumed that she might be bored by something as stiff as a black tie reception. Erin remembered that Holtzmann had thought their host was a pompous ass and had almost said so, before Abby elbowed her and whispered that billing a rich man would keep her in proton grenades for life.
***
It had puzzled Erin when Holtzmann said she’d meet her there, she’d assumed they’d go together. As she walked down the lavish stairs to the ballroom, she realised that she had no clue what Holtzmann was going to wear: maybe some sort of Willy Wonka take on a tuxedo, some begoggled steampunky distant relative of formal wear. But with Holtzmann, you truly never knew. She imagined her in a traditional dinner jacket, with her shirt slightly unbuttoned and bowtie hanging loose. Probably too conventional for Holtzmann, but the image made her heart race in a disconcerting way.
She glanced at the open bar and saw a blond woman talking to the bartender. Maybe she should have a drink while waiting. Again, it took a few moments to realise that the gorgeous woman in the stylish red cocktail dress was Jillian Holtzmann. It wasn't until she did an ironic salute at her over the rim of a glass containing a toxic looking spirit and Erin recognised her signature shade of lipstick that she truly knew it was her. Erin picked her jaw up off the floor and headed over.
"Hey, gorgeous. Come here often?"
She suddenly felt dowdy in comparison. But it didn't last. Not with the way Holtzmann was looking at her. She seemed engrossed, like Erin Gilbert in a simple black dress was the most fascinating thing she had ever seen. She grinned and touched one of the tiny rhinestone ghost earrings that Erin wore as a personal middle finger to everyone who had ever tried to discredit her. A surprisingly subtle and unsurprisingly thoughtful gift from Patty.
"Extra credit, well played."
Holtzmann saw everything about her, she always had. It took a while for Erin to figure out that Holtzmann's fascination with her and "the world's tiniest bowtie" was benevolent. Now she felt seen rather than observed. It was nice.
The tips of Holtzmann's fingers brushed her neck on the way down from her earlobe and the room shrunk to that one sensation. She was always touching her. Little tiny brushes, squeezes or shoulder pats. It was addictive. Sometimes Erin went looking for her, hoping that it would happen. She looked down, her eyes falling involuntarily into the contrast between pearly white skin and the bright red of Holtzmann's cleavage.
"You look beautiful, Jillian."
The name switch happened subconsciously. This woman was like a whole new person. Erin smiled when she saw Holtzmann's feet. Scarlet wingtip cowboy boots with rusted tin stars on the bootleg. Still Holtzmann, then.
"A girl has to draw the line somewhere." Jillian drawled and winked at her.
Erin wished she would stop doing that, it made her face hot and her mouth dry.
"True."
Although Erin wasn't sure that she knew where hers was anymore. Or if she even had a line. She had lost her job and her old life to go be a Ghostbuster. And here she was looking at the full, inviting lips of her female colleague, wondering what it would be like to kiss her. She tried to make her brain avoid thinking about the fact that she knew exactly what was under that dress.
As they walked over to the others, Jillian was so close that their shoulders were touching. A rich, spicy, old style scent filled Erin’s nose. Underneath was something softer, maybe simply the scent of Jillian. She took a deep breath. There should have been a clash between this hint of traditional, confident masculinity and the woman standing in front of her in a dress and her long blond hair down, but there wasn’t.
They dutifully mingled with the other guests. Holtzmann didn’t say much, polite small talk wasn’t her thing. She got right to the point or to the explosion, whatever came first. Erin had unfortunately suffered through a lot of faculty mixers where she was expected to talk to boring people about boring things. Holtzmann brought her another drink, but instead of her usual wine, it was a glass of the toxic green stuff Erin had seen her drink earlier.
“They’ve named this after you.”
“What?”
Erin looked at the green stuff and didn’t see the connection.
“The bartender calls it ectoplasm. It’s obviously an homage to you.”
“Oh, really funny, Jillian.”
It was good. Sweet, but not ridiculously so. Fruity. Erin sensed that it would be so easy to get drunk on this stuff without realising it. As she sipped it, it occurred to her that no one in here had been even half as interesting or funny as Holtz. Small talk about nothing was exhausting, how did she keep it up for all those years, clamouring for tenure? She was so lucky to have found the Ghostbusters. She almost teared up when she thought about it. Her people. She had people now, who got her. She looked at Holtzmann, who had just answered a question with something that made the man flinch and walk away. She amused herself for a while with pulling faces over the shoulder of whomever Erin was talking to, making her struggle not to laugh and probably seem a little insane to her conversation partner.
“Come outside with me? I have a surprise.”
Erin didn’t object, even though it was probably rude to leave the others. Jillian took her hand. It felt perfect in Erin’s, just the right size. There was a small, rough scar on her thumb, Erin had noticed it before when they touched. She was just about to ask about it when Holtzmann pointed to the sky and Erin lost the ability to speak. A meteor fell right in front of her. They stood still and waited. Another one. And another. Erin was gobsmacked. She hadn’t seen a meteor shower in ages. And the sky was clear and bright midnight blue: the perfect backdrop.
“Did you know this was going happen? And that it would be clear enough to see?”
Holtzmann nodded. Erin wasn’t surprised, of course Holtzmann was into astronomy. Holtzmann was interested in all kinds of possible and impossible worlds. It also meant that she had thought about showing it to Erin. She squeezed her hand.
“It’s beautiful.”
As they stood there under the stars, Erin glanced at her.
"Jillian… You didn't dress differently because you think I don't like you the way you normally look… right?"
"Nah, I just wanted to see your face."
She grinned at her. Erin shoved her lightly, but she was relieved. She’d hate to be the cause of Holtzmann being anything but 100% Holtzmann. Because that was truly the only acceptable number.
” Ah! Ladies! I hope you’re having a lovely time! Now tell me about your latest…”
Their host was a self-obsessed, talkative man. Erin felt disproportionately disappointed that he had interrupted the star gazing. She talked to him, trying to seem interested. Fortunately, it didn’t take more than a few words here and there to keep him happy. She was distracted by Jillian, who had picked up a cocktail napkin and started to shred it with singular purpose. At first, Erin thought she just wanted to occupy her restless hands. But then she felt something soft being placed in her palm. Instinctively, she closed her hand around it.
When their host finally finished, he left her on the terrace with an elaborately twisted and folded white paper rose in her palm. She put it in her clutch carefully. She loved what Holtzmann could do with her talented hands.
Holtzmann returned, with champagne this time, no more green stuff. Erin thanked her for the rose and got an ironic little bow in response. Although, she wasn’t so sure it was ironic. She was starting to consider if Holtzmann was being serious more often than she had previously assumed.
Erin wanted to take her hand again. But she had no excuse, so she stood really close to her instead, waiting for the last few streams of cosmic debris to light up the sky.
"They look so close from here. Like they could fall down and touch you. Which would
be bad, obviously. 'Cause you know, super heavy."
Erin felt like a dork right after she said it. Here they were, drinking champagne and stargazing and she was blabbing about being killed by space debris.
"Not to mention bright and hot. My favorite combo."
Holtzmann wiggled her eyebrows at her. Erin laughed. Why was it that she could pull off the most ridiculous lines?
The dancing had started and they could hear the music all the way out on the terrace. Holtzmann put her glass down, bowed in an exaggerated manner and offered her hand.
"You wanna… dance?"
"What clued you in? The music and the invitation?"
Erin hesitated. Shouldn't they leave their private bubble and return to the ballroom and be polite to their boring client?
A shadow passed over Holtzmann's face.
"Don't worry, we're alone out here."
Erin's heart broke a little. She knew she was too preoccupied with other people's opinions of her. She must seem hopelessly conventional to Holtzmann. But for her to think that she might be ashamed to be seen dancing with her?
"I'd be honored."
She answered Holtzmann's bow with an exaggerated curtsy. They danced at a safe distance, this-is-my-dance-space-that’s-yours. As long as the upbeat song went on, everything was fine. Simple. Then it got complicated. The song changed to something slow and charged, one of Erin's favorites. She looked into Holtzmann's beautiful blue cat eyes and instinctively took a step closer. Holtzmann invaded her personal space. Her hand on her waist was soft and demanding all at once. The space between them diminished gradually, until Erin’s cheek brushed Holtzmann’s hairline. Holtzmann’s hand on Erin’s hip graduated to her lower back. Erin was much taller in her heels, but it didn't feel like it when Holtz was leading.
Erin felt almost afraid of her own reaction. It wasn't just her disconcerting physical response to having Holtzmann close. It was a terrifying feeling of tenderness, like she couldn't bear for anything bad to happen to the woman in her arms. Like the thought of not holding her again was unacceptable. Holtzmann had saved her life and built her weapons that made her nearly invincible. Feeling protective was ridiculous. Right?
It wasn't supposed to play out like this: she was supposed to be ogling Kevin and her and Holtzmann’s relationship was supposed to be mutual admiration, bad physics jokes and late night takeaways eaten in companionable silence. Possibly with the odd moment of platonic appreciation of Holtzmann’s very obvious physical beauty. Above all, it was supposed to be a friendship. She didn’t recognise herself.
"Can't believe I'm spending a Saturday night without being covered in ectoplasm."
Here she was a few hours after lamenting having to make small talk, doing just that to dispel the tension. Erin rolled her eyes at herself.
“The ghosts need to respect that we have a social engagement,” Holtzmann agreed.
Two seconds later, both their phones flashed with the brief text message "GB".
"You know that was your fault, don't you?"
Erin looked at Jillian with raised eyebrows.
"Totally on me, mea culpa."
Again: the strange mixture of relief and disappointment when they broke apart. She went to make their excuses to their host with a strange sinking feeling in her stomach, like she had missed an opportunity or lost a moment that would never come back.
***
The other ghostbusters came roaring up to the driveway in the new Ecto10 fifteen minutes later, bringing gear and jumpsuits.
"Unzip me."
Erin does and Holtzmann pulls the dress down and shimmies out of it like it's nothing. And speaking of nothing: that's exactly what Holtzmann's been wearing under that tight fitting dress. Erin's eyes are relentlessly drawn to her naked skin again. Patty is shaking her head.
"Aww, Holtzy! Get into your gear before we get arrested for indecent exposure!"
"I was born this way, baby."
Holtzmann winks at Patty and grins, but Patty will have none of it. Erin tries really hard not to think about how she doesn't want Holtzmann to get into her gear at all, because she's beautiful naked. Holtzmann zips her suit up and all Erin can think about is that she's naked underneath it. She keeps hair pins in its pocket and a few quick movements later, the sea of golden curls is back up and Holtzmann is Holtzmann again. But Erin discovered it made no difference. The problem wasn't that Holtzmann cleaned up nicely or that they had had a great evening. It's that she’s beautiful to Erin no matter what. She didn’t quite know what to do with that information either.
The mission went great. Erin snapped out of it long enough to do her part, even if she couldn’t stop glancing sideways at Holtzmann, who was predictably working her arsenal of cool weapons like that was what she was born to do. Erin was a bit sorry her “vengeful god”-gear wasn’t ready for use in battle, but to be fair, Holtzmann had already made her a weapon that made ghosts disintegrate and scream in terror. They felt like little gods anyway, like they did after every successful mission.
***
Erin was a scientist. A hypothesis was just that, until it was tested and thoroughly reviewed. She stood there, looking at Kevin doing Kevin things: bringing Abby the wrong kind of coffee, staring at the fish tank in confusion. There was just no way around it: she had to be sure.
“Kevin?”
“Yup?”
The beautiful man smiled vacantly at her. She looked at his perfect proportions and symmetrical face. He really was ridiculously handsome.
“I need to test a hypothesis. It’s a little… above and beyond the course of duty, so to speak.”
She heard the stupid little giggle at the end of the sentence and hated herself.
“It would include lips. Your lips. And mine. It’s a lip thing.”
“Mmhmm?”
“Basically, I’d need to… Kiss you, I guess.”
“Oh.”
“Would you be OK with that?”
“Sure. All for science.”
“So… I’m going to kiss you now. If that’s quite alright with you.”
Still the same vacant smile. Erin almost felt she should ask him again, make sure he knew what he was consenting to. He didn’t stand or move from behind the desk. She tried to shake the feeling that she was using him as she leaned over the desk awkwardly.
It was nice. He didn't exactly kiss her back, he just sat perfectly still. Kevin had soft lips. Warm. So it was nice. But she didn't FEEL anything. She didn't break into a sweat or feel a need to make awful jokes or even particularly want to do it again. She did anyway: you couldn't draw any scientific conclusion with an N of 1. It was still nice. Kevin was a beautiful man. Maybe she was just over him? She smiled at him, maybe for the first time with genuine warmth.
“Thanks. That was very helpful.”
“Sure thing.”
Like nothing had happened, Kevin went back to his previous occupation of misunderstanding the new phone they’d gotten after he accidentally spit coffee into the other one.
Erin found herself wondering where Jillian was: she had an overwhelming urge to talk to her. She found Abby, but no Holtzmann. Abby said she had left suddenly, without saying where she was going.
***
A few hours later, she was back and Erin eagerly went to meet her. She thought she smelled alcohol on her breath as she walked past, head down. She didn’t so much as look at her when she stomped up the stairs to her lab. Tentatively, she followed. Holtzmann was already hidden behind protective gear and blowtorch fired up.
"Holtz…?"
"Busy."
That's all she got. One word. "Busy". She didn't take her goggles off, or smile at her like she used to. No winking. Nothing. She just kept welding whatever the huge chunk of metal in front of her was. Suddenly, asking if Holtzmann wanted to go sit on the roof with her seemed as likely as the mayor admitting publicly that there were ghosts.
***
Later that night, she went back to see what she was doing. But Holtzmann was nowhere to be found. Her leather gloves laid abandoned on her work top. Erin picked them up. They were so smooth. The right one was worn silky soft in the centre, maybe from holding all the tools she played around with. She put them to her nose and smelled them, she wasn't sure why. Leather, duh. Grease, some sort of dark, metallic smoke. Something a bit chemical. But also a hint of the spicy scent that had clashed so wonderfully with Jillian's red dress, but at the same time not at all with her personality. She inhaled again. Her heart raced. There as a subtle throbbing in her belly, a restlessness in her body that she either couldn't or didn't want to explain. She felt a strange urge to bring them with her to her room, to hold on to this unsettling sensory overload that Holtzmann had unwittingly caused. But she would notice they were gone, she wore them all the time. Reluctantly she put them back.
Later, in her room, she brought her fingers to her nose and realised that there was still the faintest hint of Holtzmann's cologne left. As she touched herself for relief, she pressed her nose against her hand and tried to will Holtzmann's face and her naked body under the dim lights of the fire station bathroom out of her mind. She failed spectacularly as she came.
Holtzmann didn’t come in the next day. Abby mentioned that she had sent a text to say that she wouldn’t and Erin felt disproportionately upset. Not coming in, was that even an option? Holtzmann was always there. She had to think hard to find an occasion where she and Holtzmann had been apart for more than a few hours of waking time in the months since they saved New York together. Patty shrugged and said she’d probably come in later, Holtzy wouldn’t stay away from her lab for long. Erin could see on Abby’s face that she wasn’t the only one who was worried, though.
That night, she paced the fire station. She had no right wondering where Holtzmann was or what she was doing. Holtzmann was under no obligation to tell her anything. And yet: it ate at her. Where, why and with whom? Was Holtzmann going through a hard time? Was she with a girl? She found she hated that last thought. But more importantly: why wasn't she with her? To say that she missed Holtzmann wasn't enough. It felt more like missing herself.
Patty came and asked if she was coming down for dinner. She shook her head and refused, even though she reminded her that low blood sugar was serious. But Erin wasn't hungry, in a fundamental way. Like she literally, physically couldn't eat. Patty hugged her and didn't insist. Erin had no clue what was going on, but it seemed like Patty did.
***
She woke up a few hours later and heard Holtzmann moving metal. She put her robe on and almost ran to the lab to see her.
“Wow… That’s beautiful.”
The hunk of twisted metal writhed and danced in front of her. She'd had no idea there were so many subtle colors hidden in the gunmetal gray shimmering under the bright floodlights.
Holtzmann removed her protective gear and turned the blowtorch off. She didn’t look at Erin.
“It’s scrap metal.”
“But… It’s beautiful?”
“It doesn’t DO anything. Useless.”
Holtzmann’s voice was all biting sarcasm. This voice wouldn’t call Erin beautiful and she hated it. She walked past her and threw her leather half gloves on the work top. There was no swagger in her walk and her hands were pushed deep into her pockets. Erin’s heart ached.
She waited until she was gone and then lugged the twisted metal shape into her room. She totally intended to keep it. It was the most beautiful, strange thing. She hadn't even known metal could bend that way. She ran her fingers across its smooth surface and the ragged ends. Before meeting Holtzmann, she hadn't known she could bend that way either.