I am enamored.
His posture, his voice—everything about him changes as he snaps into the scene. My instincts tell me to capture the stillness of him on stage. Doing what he does best…
Performing.
I pull out my camera app on my phone, quickly snapping a photo before anyone can notice the flash. One person from the stage catches me. I sink a little further in my chair.
My stare deepens at the photo. A quiet fear settles inside of my chest.
Somewhere some big conference hall, Aidan is schmoozing up another start-up and I am staring at another man, wanting to smell his cologne and feel the pressure of his skin against mine. If Aidan knew my thoughts, he would hate me.
It’s an all-consuming feeling that has overridden my sense of time.
Before I know it, Holden is striding back to me with a goofy grin on his face. I’m shoving my phone back inside my purse.
As I am about to open my mouth to ask if class is over, he pulls his keys from his pocket and tosses them right at me. All the folding chairs are folded back in half and dragged to the end of the stage.
“Let’s take a drive.”
“Why are you giving me the keys?”
“Because you’re driving.”
“I can’t drive, you know that.”
“Well, I guess we aren’t going anywhere.”
With a sly smile, he walks right past the chair I am sitting in. My fingertips scramble for the strap of my purse hanging off the armrest.
He walks out of the building.
In a matter of seconds, I am in the driver’s seat as he is getting secondhand joy from how my shoulders tense up behind the wheel.
I’m having an out-of-body experience.
It’s just me and the road ahead and the only thing separating us is me moving the gear into drive.
“I don’t think we should do this. Like, at all…” I stammer.
“Why not?”
“Like I said when we first met, it’s better when other people drive. I don’t want to ruin anything.”
“Stop assuming we’re going to crash,” he says firmly. “Just drive.”
I take the biggest exhale of my life and pull out of the parking lot. My heart is drumming in my chest as I press on the gas.
“So…” His voice teases me as the road ahead of me looks like one big pileup waiting to happen.
“Would you rather have feet for hands or hands for feet?”
“What?”
“Answer the question. You aren’t getting out of this.”
“I guess feet for hands.”
“Wow, I am never shaking your hand again.”
