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Ugh, why is he so—
His eyes locked on me and his mouth parted a touch, though his chest remained unmoving as he watched me approach, with the kind of focus he usually reserved for a complicated question in class.
“Hey. Been waiting long?” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and shifted on my feet.
“Not at all,” he said, voice a little hoarse. He gave me a slow and appreciative once-over, before straightening up.
The move brought him closer than expected, enough that mint and sandalwood whispered over my face.
Is he gonna kiss me?
My heart was hammering in my ribcage like a trapped bird, loud thumps I feared he might hear. But he stepped around me and my lungs drew breath again, before his hand landed on the small of my back to guide me towards the passenger’s door and the warm pressure scrambled my brain anew.
By the time he settled behind the wheel, I’d managed to get my breathing under control, but the sides of my neck still burned, and I was shifting in my seat a little too much.
The BMW logo shone in the middle of the steering wheel, and though I didn’t know much about cars, I could tell this was a nice one: comfy, with black leather seats, a sleek, matte interior, and glossy chrome accents.
No stray can of soda left over in a cup holder, no empty packet of crisps in sight, only a wireless charger stuck to one of the vents and an ashtray tucked away, as if it didn’t see much use.
The car purred to life with a throaty sound that hummed through my bones. The click of my seatbelt echoed in the small cabin and I waited for his, but instead of buckling in, he leaned in and grasped my chin.
“I’ve been dying to kiss you,” he breathed, gaze brushing my mouth before his lips did, in a slow and torturous kiss that made it easy to believe we were the only two people in the world.
When he pulled back, his eyes were a little hazy. He dragged a thumb over my mouth, before buckling his seatbelt, though his gaze lingered on me.
“You look…” He swallowed. “Bad for my blood pressure.”
I hastily wiped my damp palms on my thighs, hoping he wouldn’t notice, but by the curl to his lip as we peeled off, he definitely had.
Prick.
“Thanks, Pri dressed me up like a doll,” I joked, but my voice came out breathier than intended.
His chuckle curled between us, a wisp of sound lost under the purr of the engine, and the radio announced Goosebumps by Travis Scott was up next.
The slumbering Academy grew smaller in the side mirror, unaware its king and scholarship student were about to cross a line drawn in invisible ink.
Lights blurred past my window, and though I tried to focus on the road, I felt his gaze brushing over me, almost like a physical caress. As if sensing my agitation, his hand shot out and slotted into mine, dragging it to the armrest. Casual, effortless, like this was natural between us.
The song played low, and we drove in a near-silence, thick with unspoken things. His warm thumb drew soothing circles on my knuckles, pulling my shoulders down with each mile.
Then, the voices in my head died at once.
He guided my hand on the gear stick, covered it with his, and kept driving and shifting gears while my stomach was doing dizzying flips.
I stirred in my seat at the sharp jolt of heat searing through me.
“Do you need your seat adjusted?” he called out, eyes focused on the road, voice low and even.
No, I need water. And firefighters.
Did he have no idea what that did to me?
My pulse thrummed under my skin, turning it all itchy. In an attempt to distract myself, my gaze swept around the interior of the car, then dropped to the wheel.
Big mistake.
The passing streetlights danced over the back of his hand, highlighting every vein and sinew.
