Instead of answering, he fiddles with the car’s touchscreen, and the familiar synth notes of “Midnight City”by M83 fill the car.
“Every time I see something special, something that makes me grateful to be alive, I hear this song in my head.”
I smile at him.
He makes me grateful to be alive too.
We drive on, the flowers and tall grass blurring into a beautiful backdrop. The song continues, and the car feels like a bubble of our own little world, where everything is easy and wonderful. I glance at Misha just as he reaches across the console and intertwines his fingers with mine.
He rests our hands on the console, leans back against his headrest, and sleeps for the entire two-hour drive back to Seattle.
As we get onto busier streets, I gently slip my hand from his to better grip the steering wheel. He stirs slightly but remains asleep, resting peacefully until we reach the garage.
When I put the car in park, he stirs, rubbing his eyes and slowly sitting up. “Are we home already?” he asks, his voice quiet and groggy.
“Yep, we made it,” I reply, smiling at him.
He stretches, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt as he looks around, taking in the familiar surroundings. “Look at that. You didn’t kill us,” he teases, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.
I snicker gently. “And even if I did, you wouldn’t have noticed, sleepyhead.”
We both unbuckle but make no move to exit. The car’s interior feels suddenly too small, too intimate.
I turn to Misha, my smile lingering as I try to keep the mood light, though my heart is starting to race. “This was a lot of fun,” I say, the words carrying more weight than they should. “Thank you.”
He meets my gaze, his expression soft, his eyes still a little heavy with sleep. There’s something different in the way he looks at me, something that makes my heart skip a beat. “I love happy Amelia,” he murmurs, almost reverent. “She’s pretty.”
His gaze drops to my lips, lingering there just a moment too long, and I feel the pull between us, the magnetic force drawing me closer. My heart pounds in my chest, and before I can think it through, I lean in, closing the distance between us, my breath catching as our lips almost touch.
But then, just as we’re about to meet, he raises his hand, pressing it gently against my lips, creating a barrier that stops me cold. The suddenness of it shatters the fragile illusion, leaving me frozen in place.
“Fuck…” he whispers, his fingertips still resting against my lips, as if he can’t quite bring himself to pull away. His voice is strained, almost pained. “I’m so sorry, Bug. I can’t do that.”
The warmth that had filled the car just moments ago evaporates in an instant, replaced by a cold, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I pull back, mortified, my face flushing with embarrassment.
Oh God.
“Sorry… I-I shouldn’t have done that,” I stammer, my hands trembling. “I thought you would?—”
“Iwould.” He cuts me off, his face contorted with something like regret. “It’s not you, Amelia. I just…can’t… and it’s not my place to tell you why.”
His words barely register as the embarrassment floods my system, shooting icy adrenaline through my veins. My ears fill with a roaring white noise, and my cheeks burn with humiliation. I can’t bring myself to meet the pity in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” I say again, the words barely escaping my lips. “Forget it happened, please.”
“Bug, no,I’msorry, please…” he starts, reaching out as if to stop me, but I’m already out of the car, desperate to escape. My legs move on their own, carrying me quickly toward the elevator, my vision blurring with unshed tears.
Behind me, I hear him curse under his breath as he tries to follow, his injured ankle no doubt protesting under the sudden weight. “Amelia, wait!” he calls out, his voice filled with urgency, but I ignore him, stepping into the elevator just as the doors begin to close.
My heart pounds in my ears, drowning out everything else as I watch him try to take another step, his face contorted in agony before the doors shut between us. This is the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me. The thought loops in my mind over and over, each repetition sinking deeper.
He doesn’t want me.
I’m so dumb.
Dumb, dumb, dumb.
I just ruinedeverything.
When I’m at my apartment door, guilt gnaws at me for leaving Misha like that, so I pull out my phone and type a quick message to the group chat with the guys.
