The bus jolted slightly as it turned a corner, the city lights casting fleeting patterns across the scratched windows. You were lost in thought, staring at the blur of traffic outside, when the guy next to you cleared his throat.

“Uh… excuse me,” he said, his voice uncertain. You glanced at him and had to do a double take. He was impeccably dressed for someone riding the bus—a tailored coat, polished shoes, and a wristwatch that probably cost more than your tuition. He didn’t look like the type to be here, and judging by the way he clung to the pole, knuckles white, he didn’t feel like he belonged either.

“Yes?” you asked cautiously, trying not to stare.

He hesitated, his gaze flitting to the floor. “I know this is… weird, but could I… hold your hand? Just for a bit?”

You blinked. “Hold my hand?”

He nodded quickly, his cheeks turning pink. “I… I don’t usually take the bus. My parents insisted I bring someone with me, but I wanted to try it alone. Except now, I… might’ve underestimated how intimidating it is.”

You stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or feel sorry for him. His expensive clothes and polished demeanor clashed hilariously with his current predicament. But his expression was earnest, a mix of embarrassment and genuine unease that made it hard to say no.

“Alright,” you said, offering your hand tentatively. “But only because you look like you might bolt out the emergency exit any second.”

He let out a small, relieved laugh, his grip warm and firm but not overbearing. “Thank you. Seriously.”

As the bus rumbled on, he seemed to relax a little, though his eyes still darted nervously to the other passengers. You couldn’t help but be amused by the contrast—this rich kid, clearly out of his element, clutching your hand like it was a lifeline.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence. “What made you want to take the bus?”

He glanced at you, his lips twitching into a shy smile. “I just wanted to see what it was like. Turns out, it’s a lot scarier than it looks in movies.”