the bass from his car hums low as he pulls up, the autumn air rushing in when he cracks the window. the smell of cinnamon and smoke mix with the cool breeze. when you slide in, there’s a warm drink already in the cup holder.

“don’t look at me like that,” smoke mutters, eyes flicking over you with a half-smirk. “i know you love that pumpkin shit, so i got it. and before you say thank you, just sip it.”

he pulls off slow, one hand on the wheel, the other finding your thigh. outside, the streets are littered with red and gold leaves, the kind that swirl up when his tires roll past.

“i’m takin’ you somewhere. figured if you love this fall shit so much, you gon’ see it with me. ain’t no other man tryna give you this view.”

his thumb rubs lazy circles against your leg as the city fades into winding roads lined with trees, all shades of fire under the fading sun.