Your friend didn’t say anything when you got in the car. That should’ve been your first warning.

“Hey,” you said, sliding into the backseat and tossing your bag beside you. Noticing your friend adding another address to the google map on her car. "Where are we going now?”

“Just a quick stop first,” they replied casually, pulling off like it was nothing.

You didn’t think twice about it. Big mistake.

The music played low—something you half-recognized—and you were mid-sentence, talking, rambling, or whatever, when the car slowed down again.

“Who are we picking up? Just tell me!” you asked, glancing out the window, obviously trying to hide how curious you were.

Your friend didn’t answer right away. They just smiled.

And that wasn’t the oddest part. The house you pulled up to looked way too familiar.

Then—

the back door opened. Right next to you.

You turned your head—

—and immediately wished you hadn’t.

“Oh.”

He paused halfway into the car, one hand on the door, his eyes flicking over your face like he was just as unimpressed.

“You?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Seriously?” you muttered under your breath.

Of course it had to be him.

He slid in anyway.

Too close.

The door shut, and suddenly the space felt smaller, tighter—like the air shifted just because he was there.

Your friend pulled off like nothing happened. Like they didn’t just ruin your entire mood.