His raven hair is even messier than back at the event. He’s drowned in the darkness of the night, lit only by the lights from the dashboard, the colors floating around his sharp features.
But he’s—
Oh he’s gotta be fucking kidding me. He’s holding in a laugh, his hand covering his mouth.
“So I guess you saw that,” I say finally, accepting the horrible embarrassment.
This could not get any worse. He clears his throat, holding the laugh back.
“It was really impressive. Are you doing this often?” he asks, a slight tease in his voice, but beside that, he feels controlled, composed, confident.
His whole body is angled toward the passenger seat, filling his side of the car as if he’s seven feet tall. He’s wearing just a black T-shirt and jeans, both arms visible, unlike today at the event when he was covered by his suit.
Suddenly he looks almost like a normal teenager. A disturbingly handsome one.
“Not really. Are you?” I reply, trying to sound casual.
“Not really,” he says quietly, a slight smirk appearing on his face.
I glance around the car. The whole interior is too clean and shiny, as if he’s not using it that much, but then I notice a few things in the cupholder, one of them a pack of cigarettes.
Of course.
Then my gaze lifts back to him, only to see he’s been staring this whole time.
My mouth won’t shut up when it needs to, but now it’s blank?
“So are you going to kidnap me now or what?” I finally blurt out.
He’s watching me as if he’s trying to catch every syllable that comes out of my mouth, as if he’s interested in everything unsaid between the words.
“Do you want me to?”
He doesn’t sound flirty, but rather serious. That makes me silently chuckle under my breath.
He’s somehow intimidating in the sweetest way possible. It doesn’t make sense to me yet. So I just stare at him, trying to figure out if he’s nervous too but is somehow capable of masking it. I sadly don’t know how to do that.
The car lock suddenly clicks and I flinch, lifting my eyebrows.
“It’s automatic,” he mumbles and I hum, then both of us break into an unsteady smile.
“So,” I breathe out. "Didn’t you come here to give me my bracelet back?”
He lifts a hand and runs it through his hair, a nervous gesture that only makes it fall messier across his eyes. It’s black as a night, slightly wavy at the ends, the strands brushing his lashes. My gaze unintentionally follows his arm, catching a few lines of ink there, still a little red, as if it’s fresh.
His scent reaches me again as he moves, and goosebumps prickle along my skin. I quickly press my palms between my legs in reflex, hiding them before he can notice how fidgety I am.
“I forgot it,” he finally admits and gives me an apologetic smile.
“You were wearing it.” I squint my eyes.
“It must have slipped off,” he says, a slow half-smirk tugging at his mouth like he’s enjoying the lie.
My breath catches, but I can’t fight a smile either, my stomach flipping over itself.
“So,” he starts, visibly unaware of what he’s doing to me. “Do you like working in catering?” he asks and rests his body in the seat, still not taking his eyes off me.
It feels like he hasn't even blinked since I got in.
