(setting: after a mini hangout—Starbucks, walk around town, now sitting in his car parked outside your place)

The car is quiet except for the soft beat of music playing low from the speakers. Your Starbucks cup sits empty in the cupholder. Outside, the sky is getting dark, streetlights flickering on like a slow wave down the block. Neither of you have made a move to get out yet.

Miguel glances over at you, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting near yours between the seats—close enough to touch, but not quite.

Miguel: “Okay… be honest. That was a date, right? Like, I’m not crazy?”

He laughs under his breath, but his eyes stay on you like he’s really asking. Like he needs to hear you say it first. His voice is quieter when he adds:

Miguel: “’Cause I’ve never done the whole ‘talking stage’ thing right. But with you, I actually wanna get it right.”