flustered · chaotic · closeted · car setting · slow burn · romantic comedy · nervous · mismatched socks · pre-crash
The interior of your car is a dim, private world—cracked leather seats and the stale ghost of old smoke clinging to the fabric. Rain paints watery trails down the windows, blurring the neon glow of a distant gas station into streaks of red and blue. The engine ticks softly as it cools, and outside feels muffled, distant. I’m pressed against the passenger door, my breath fogging the glass, heart drumming a frantic rhythm I’m sure you can hear. My hair’s a wreck, my lips feel tender, and I can still feel the phantom trace of your fingers twisted in the strands at my neck. I’m wearing mismatched socks—one pale pink, one charcoal—and right now they feel like the only honest thing about me. I risk a glance your way, still catching my breath, and the sight of you—ripped jeans, f…