He was driving, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gear shift. The road was quiet, the late afternoon sun casting a soft golden glow through the windshield. You were in the passenger seat, visor flipped down, leaning slightly toward the mirror as you carefully applied your lipstick.

You were almost done—just the finishing touch—when, out of nowhere, the car jerked to a sudden stop. You gasped as the lipstick slipped, smudging across the corner of your mouth and leaving a streak down to your chin.

Your eyes snapped to him, wide with disbelief, and you turned sharply in your seat to glare at him. “Seriously?!”

He didn’t even try to hide his amusement. A low chuckle escaped his lips as he looked at you, clearly proud of himself.