Alexander stood in the garage with the BMW's hood open, not because it needed work—it was running perfectly—but because keeping his hands busy kept his mind from wandering too much.
The festival wasn't until tomorrow, and logically, there was nothing to be nervous about. It wasn't a date.At least… that's what he kept telling himself.
But then he remembered the way Elena had looked at him the last time they talked, the way her voice softened when she asked if he wanted to come with her. It wasn't just casual. It felt like an invitation into something slightly bigger than either of them had said out loud.
He wiped a hand across his forehead, leaning back against the car.
The BMW was already spotless—he'd detailed it last night when he couldn't sleep. But here he was again, polishing the interior and checking tire pressure like they were going on a road trip instead of a twenty-minute drive.
He caught himself chuckling under his breath.
"What's wrong with you?" he muttered.
This wasn't him.
He didn't fuss over this kind of thing. He didn't spend an hour debating whether or not he should stop by the corner store to pick up her favorite iced tea—the one she mentioned in passing at the burger joint the other night. But somehow, he was doing exactly that.
The festival would be packed with people, and he wasn't a crowd person. But the thought of spending hours with her, walking between food trucks and listening to live music—it didn't bother him.
If anything, it sounded… nice.
Better than nice.
It sounded like the kind of day that might stick with him for a while.
When the afternoon light began to slant across the garage floor, Alexander finally closed the hood and gave the BMW one last look. The sleek black paint caught the sun just right, reflecting like liquid glass. He'd tuned the engine enough lately that it purred like a cat when he started it.
It wasn't really about the car.
But he wanted the day to feel like effort.
Like he cared enough to show up prepared.
Back in his dorm, he tossed his hoodie over the chair and pulled on a fresh black t-shirt—clean, simple. He glanced in the mirror, running a hand through his hair. It still fell slightly messily over his forehead, but no amount of fixing would make him look less like himself.
He wasn't the kind of guy who planned outfits or worried about first impressions. Not until now.
Not until her.
Mateo returned while Alexander was gathering his things. "You heading out?"
"Not yet," Alex replied. "Tomorrow. Festival."
Mateo raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh, that. The thing with Elena?"
Alexander gave him a look, but it didn't faze Mateo. "Don't worry, man. I think it's cool. You've been less… I don't know… stuck in your head lately. She's good for you."
Alex didn't answer, but he didn't argue either.
Later that evening, he grabbed his phone and scrolled through his contacts.
He wanted to say something.To let her know he was looking forward to tomorrow.
But how did you say that without sounding like an idiot?
Finally, he typed:
Alexander:Any food truck recommendations I should prepare for? Or should I just trust your expertise in festival snacks?
Her reply came within minutes:
Elena:Trust me. I've got this down to a science. Bring an empty stomach.
He smiled faintly at the screen, shaking his head.
As he set his phone down, a quiet decision settled in his chest.
Tomorrow, when the time felt right, he was going to tell her something real. Not everything—just enough to let her see who he really was underneath all the silence.
Because if he wanted her to keep opening up to him, he had to meet her halfway.
He stepped out onto the balcony, leaning against the railing as the sun dipped low on the horizon. The BMW sat gleaming in the lot below, ready for tomorrow.
For once, he wasn't thinking about engines or schedules.
He was thinking about her.And how, whether he was ready or not, she was slowly becoming something he didn't want to lose.