There was something so damn satisfying about the simple act of being taken out, like a quiet reminder that I mattered enough for someone to make the effort. It wasn't just the greasy shitty diner burger or the small talk that came along with Charlie; it was the mere feeling of being seen, even by someone I barely knew. It wasn't grand or particularly meaningful in the usual sense, but it felt real in a pathetic way I didn't expect — and maybe that was the point of his asking.
Charlie then turned on his boots, a stupid smug look of satisfaction crossing his face as he knew he'd won the fight and ended up paying for lunch. Just to shove it in my face more, he gave me that playful, almost mocking smile.
So I instead fought it, though. I wasn't about to give him the means of seeing me smile or anything, not yet. But despite my little efforts to stay composed, a small, reluctant smile pulled at the corners of my mouth.
"Oh, there's a next time." He retorted with full forced confidence. I hazily rolled my dark hazel brown eyes due to his stupid mouth. How is he a priest?
The southern breeze hit us as soon as we crossed the threshold from the air conditioned diner, to the summer day: thick and heavy, but still somehow refreshing. Way more refreshing than the scent of the diner, a rich draft of burnt coffee and the over baring smell of fresh all day breakfast, how can Americans fuck up a breakfast here?
We reached his cherry-red Mustang, the car gleaming in the sun, and without missing a beat, he pulled open the passenger door: awaiting me to get in, awesome. So, an attractive, cocky, annoying with manners yet unavailable man.
Ohh .. yeah, that's right, just available to the lord himself.
I slid into the passengers seat quickly, the soft leather creaking under my weight as Charlie closed the door behind me, walking back around to the drivers door before climbing in aside me.
"What's with you and the colour red?" I purred softly, my fingers resting on the seatbelt before pulling it across my chest. Buckling myself in as my eyes remained on Charlie's in this subtle trance.
His lips twitched, an edge of a smile playing on his face as he glanced back at me, then to his left hand on the wheel. His fingers—larger, tense: wrapped firmly around it. There was something in the way he looked at me: almost unreadable, but with an undeniable warmth.
"It's my favorite colour," He replied, his voice steady but carrying a quiet defiance. "Is that so bad?"
Before I could respond, his hand moved, swift and neutral, turning the keys in the ignition as the car came to life with a roar that rattled me in the passenger seat ever so slightly.
"So shit." I whispered, leaning forward as my fingers turned on the radio dial. Desperately ready to drown out the silence, the tension.
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AN - I'veeee been busy also what the heckkk, people are actually reading this? Thanks! I always find it fascinating.
And also i'm reading rivals so i'll try and get this in. Luv luv luvvv! 🤍
