A row closer, but not close enough.
My gaze wandered out the window and landed on a fast-food joint across the street. Grease, noise, cheap fries. The kind of place I’d never normally go near.
But then I looked at her, small, fidgety, knees tucked together like she didn’t know what to do with herself. If she’s not eating, she’ll probably faint halfway through the ride.
I pushed up from my seat. She looked up instantly, big, startled eyes following every move I made.
I tilted my head toward the aisle.
“Follow or stay,” I said flatly. “I don’t care.”
And I kept walking, hands shoved into my pockets. Didn’t check if she was behind me.
Didn’t need to.
Because I heard her, those soft, hesitant footsteps trailing after me, the bus door hissing shut behind us.
Of course she followed.
She always follows.
The bell above the door chimed as we stepped in, the greasy scent of oil and fried food coating the air.
Not exactly fine dining, but whatever. It’d do.
“Go sit down,” I said, nodding toward an empty booth by the window. She obeyed without a sound. Just nodded and slipped away, head down, hands gripping her phone like it was a shield. She slid into the seat, knees together, bag tucked tight against her side, as if she were trying to take up as little space as possible.
I turned toward the counter, ordered something simple, burgers, fries, and two sodas, but my focus kept drifting.
Her reflection in the glass.
Her fingers traced invisible lines on the table.
She wasn’t doing anything. Just sitting there.
And somehow it was enough to make my chest ache.
God, she was—
Gorgeous.
Not the dressed-up kind. Not makeup, not heels. Just… her.
Loose sweater, hair falling over her shoulders, eyes half-lidded with thought.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
And I couldn’t stop staring.
The kid behind the counter cleared his throat. “Sir, your order.”
I blinked, dragged my attention away, grabbed the tray, muttered a thanks, and turned back.
She was still looking out the window, lost in her head, completely unaware that someone was watching her as if she hung the damn stars.
I walked over, tray in hand, and told myself to look away, to act normal. But my eyes never listened to me when it came to her.
