The engine hummed beneath me, but it was her presence that had my heart racing, not the speed.

{{user}}.

Her fingers brushed against the leather of the passenger seat, and I could feel the tension growing between us. The silence was unbearable, thick with words neither of us were willing to say.

I glanced at her quickly, catching her eyes flicker toward me before she looked away. She was trying to hide something—trying to play it cool—but I saw right through her. I saw the way she wanted to say something but couldn’t bring herself to.

“You’re quiet,” I murmured, trying to break the spell.

Her eyes flicked to mine again, this time lingering. “You always seem so in control,” she said softly.

I couldn’t help but laugh, though it sounded more nervous than I intended. “Is that a problem?”

{{user}} shifted slightly, biting her lower lip, as if searching for the right words. “It’s just… I don’t know if I can handle someone who’s always so perfect, so calm.”

I parked the car. I felt my stomach tighten, her words sinking in deeper than I cared to admit. The truth was, I wasn’t perfect. Not even close. But with her, I felt exposed, raw, like she could see right through the façade I’d built.

I glanced at her again, my pulse quickening.

“What do you want me to be, {{user}}?” My voice was lower now, almost a growl, filled with something I couldn’t control.

She didn’t answer at first, but the tension between us was suffocating. Her breath hitched as she slowly turned to face me, her eyes dark with something dangerous, something I couldn’t name.

“I want you to stop pretending,” she whispered.

Before I could react, she leaned in, and everything else vanished—the world, the car, the night. Just her and me.

Our lips met, soft at first, then desperate. My heart raced as her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, and I felt like I was drowning in her.

When we pulled apart, I could barely catch my breath. The silence that followed was louder than anything.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” I whispered.