through the silence

I've missed you

Two hours later, my phone buzzed with a message from Jill: *"Hey, I'm outside!"*

Grinning, I grabbed my jacket and wallet before heading out the door. When I stepped outside, I spotted Jill's car waiting at the curb. She rolled down the window and waved with a bright smile.

"Hey!" I said, climbing in as she leaned over for a quick hug. The embrace felt warm, genuine, and comforting.

"Long time no see," Jill teased with a playful smirk.

I chuckled, playing along. "Have you missed me so much in just two hours, Jilly?"

"Well, actually, yes," she replied with surprising sincerity, her gaze holding mine for a second longer than usual. My cheeks warmed at her words.

"Alright, put your phone on Bluetooth and play some music," she said, breaking the moment as she gestured toward the car's console.

I connected my phone, scrolling through my playlists. I hesitated for a second before picking something from my usual lineup—mostly German songs I loved. The first track, "Blaues Licht" by Kraftklub, began to play.

Jill raised an eyebrow, glancing at me with curiosity. "German music?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "I usually listen to it when I'm on my own, but I can change it if—"

She interrupted, shaking her head. "No, it's fine! I want to hear what kind of music you like."

Her words made me smile, and I let the playlist run. Somehow, knowing Jill didn't understand the lyrics made the moment more special—like the music was mine to share, but its meaning was still a mystery only I could explain.

At one line, "dein Blick, sonst nichts" (your gaze, nothing else), I felt a particular smile tugging at my lips, and Jill noticed.

"What's this song about?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Well," I began, trying to find the words, "it's about how the gaze of a certain person is enough to tell you that you're in love... though the song phrases it a bit differently. But you get the idea."

Jill's lips curved into a soft smile. "Sounds like a good song. I can relate to that."

My heart skipped a beat as I glanced at her, returning the smile before the next song began: "Kein Liebeslied" by Kraftklub.

At the first few notes, I chuckled quietly to myself. The song was funny in a way—it wasn't supposed to be a love song, yet it kind of became one by the end. As Jill listened, I could see her trying to decipher its tone.

"What's this one about?" she asked again.

I smirked. "You'll have to figure it out yourself this time."

She let out an exaggerated gasp, pretending to be offended. "Rude! Fine, but don't blame me if I get it all wrong!"

As we continued driving, the music played on, and we talked about random things, laughing at little jokes until we arrived at the mall. Jill pulled into a spot, and before I could react, she quickly jumped out and opened the passenger door for me.

"Such a gentlewoman," I teased, stepping out.

"Always," she quipped, grinning as we walked toward the entrance.

Without thinking, our hands brushed, and Jill casually slipped hers into mine. My heart raced at the gesture, but the warmth of her touch calmed my nerves. For a fleeting moment, I worried about fans spotting us, but Jill's relaxed demeanor eased my fears.