Crazy But You Like IT

Silver Linings Playbook: The Dance of Difficult Love
A short story continuation inspired by Pat and Tiffany’s journey

The gym smelled like varnish and sweat and old trophies—perfect. The stereo was blasting Stevie Wonder, and Tiffany was already stretching like a cat on the hardwood, long legs pointed, face serious.

Pat stood by the mirror, checking the playlist. He wasn’t nervous—just wired. He’d done the reading, talked to Dr. Patel, done all the mental push-ups. But nothing prepared him for this: Tiffany in black tights, throwing her soul into every spin like it was the last thing she'd ever do.

“You’re late,” she said, not looking at him.

“Only five minutes.”

“That’s five minutes closer to competition. You want to win or what?”

Pat grinned. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

She finally looked at him—sharp, soft, impossible. “Barely.”

They started their warm-up. Slow at first. Arms. Hips. She corrected his posture with two fingers on his spine.

“You move like a fridge,” she muttered.

“You’re crazy,” he shot back.

She stopped mid-spin. “Excuse me?”

“I said you’re crazy. But I like it.”

A smile ghosted her lips. “You like it?”

“Yeah. I like that it ain’t easy with you. Most people? It’s just... autopilot. But you?” He took a step closer. “You make me feel like I gotta earn every second. Like I’m in a chase.”

Her voice dropped. “And you like the chase better than the catch?”

Pat nodded. “Yeah. Because with you, the catch... the catch is too good to come easy.”

Tiffany blinked, the air between them suddenly thick. She broke it with a laugh, a low, knowing one. “You think I’m making it hard for you to get into my pants?”

He swallowed. “A little.”

She stepped forward, eyes locked with his, all mischief and heat and something terrifyingly sincere. “That’s because you’re not a hookup, Pat. You’re a keeper. Marriage material. I make it hard because you’re worth it. You deserve better than easy.”

His voice cracked a little. “I’ve never been anybody’s ‘worth it’ before.”

“Well,” she said, brushing his shoulder gently, “get used to it.”

They went back to dancing, but something shifted. The steps were the same, the moves memorized—but now there was rhythm underneath. A heartbeat shared between two people who knew broken things didn’t mean worthless. It just meant the pieces had to be held tighter.

As the music rose, Pat dipped Tiffany low. She laughed again, breathless, wild.

“You’re crazy,” she said.

He grinned. “I know. But you like it.”

And she did.

God, she really did.

End.