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The second the final bell rang, I was out of my seat like I owed the building money. I didn't even stop by my locker, I had my bag ready since second period. As I made my way out to the front steps, the sun hit just right, warm but not too hot, and the breeze made it feel like something out of a movie.
Then I saw him.
Trayvon was leaned up against the side of his car, phone in hand, dressed like he belonged in a streetwear ad oversized faded denim jacket, black cargos, and some kind of graphic tee that looked like it cost more than my entire closet. His locs were pulled back in a loose tie, and the sun caught the gold in his earrings. He looked unbothered. Like the whole world could be on fire and he'd still be casually fine.
He spotted me and grinned.
"There's my favorite high schooler," he teased as I walked up, swinging my bag onto my shoulder.
I rolled my eyes, but I was already smiling. "Don't make that sound weird."
Trayvon laughed, pushing off the car and opening the passenger door for me like some smooth rom-com character. "Hop in. Time to eat art and stare at food."
I slid into the seat, heart doing that stupid fluttery thing again. "You flipped that phrase on purpose, didn't you?"
"Maybe." He shut the door behind me and jogged around to his side. "I like keeping you guessing."
As we pulled off, music filled the car. A nice R&B playlist with low, honey-dipped vocals and beats that made me feel like I was in a dream. Trayvon drummed lightly on the steering wheel, clearly mouthing along to the lyrics.
"You always this chill after a full workday?" I asked, glancing at him.
He smirked without taking his eyes off the road. "Honestly? No. But seeing you kind of resets my whole mood."
I blinked, looking out the window real quick like it would cool down the way my face was heating up. "You say stuff like that so easily."
"That's because I mean it," he said, glancing at me briefly. "You ever get tired of pretending you don't like the compliments?"
"Maybe," I muttered, but I was smiling again.
"You're really smooth, you know that?"
"I try. But I'm not putting anything on. I'm just being me."
That hit different.
Because I could tell. It didn't feel forced or like he was trying to impress me, he was just comfortable in his skin. Confident without being cocky. Flirty, but warm. The kind of person that made you want to be honest without realizing you were about to overshare.
I fiddled with the string on my hoodie. "I like how you are. Just so you know."
He glanced over again, and this time his smile softened a little. "Good. I like how you are too."
