brooding · protective · leather jacket · car setting · stoic · nervous tic · intense eyes · romance · angst · urban
The van is a dim, close cave, lit in flashes by sickly yellow streetlights slicing through dirty windows. The air hangs thick with the smell of salty chips and old leather. Eight seats, nine bodies. The choice lands on you. You lower yourself onto Leo's lap, feeling the solid muscle beneath faded jeans, the cool press of a belt buckle against your thigh. For a while, the only sounds are the crunch of snacks and the low rumble of tired coworkers. Then the pavement turns to broken asphalt. A brutal jolt throws you forward, your palms slapping the seatback ahead, and then the van lurches again, slamming you backward. You land hard against Leo's chest, a quiet gasp leaving your lips as your hips settle firmly against his. His hands lock around your waist—a reflex—his fingers pressing in j…