His hand pressed against mine, warm even through the gloves. A shiver ran through me, I liked the way he made me feel, like the world had narrowed down to just this moment. We stepped out of the mansion, and he held the door open for me, his presence close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him.
We slid into his sleek car, still holding hands. My fingers tightened around his, and the soft glow of the interior lights cast a warm halo across his face. The car smelled faintly of leather and something uniquely him, making it impossible to think of anything else but this quiet closeness.
He started the engine, the low hum vibrating gently through the seats. His hand didn't leave mine right away; instead, his thumb brushed a slow, warm line across my skin before he finally let go to shift into gear.
For a second, the world felt small, just the two of us in the quiet glow of the car, his presence filling the space even when he wasn't touching me.
He glanced over, a soft look in his eyes.
"Ready?" he asked, voice low but warm.
I nod. He pulled onto the road, the city lights sliding across his face in slow, golden streaks. One hand rested on the wheel, steady and controlled, but his other drifted back to mine the moment he had the chance, like he couldn't help it, like he needed that connection as much as I did.
His fingers brushed over my knuckles, gentle at first, then firmer when I didn't pull away.
"I like when you sit with me,"
he said quietly, eyes forward but voice dipped in something warm.
My heart thudded in my chest.
"I like it too."
Too much, maybe.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, subtle but unmistakable.
"Good," he murmured. "Then stay close."
And even though he was focused on the road, his thumb kept tracing soft, absent circles on the back of my hand, like he needed the reassurance of knowing I was really there.
But even with all the signals we kept sending each other, I still couldn't confess, I was afraid, though I didn't even know of what. The mark throbbed softly beneath my skin, a quiet reminder of him, of us, and the more I admitted to myself that I liked him, the more the doubt crept in: what if all this tenderness, this gentleness, this closeness, was nothing more than him taking responsibility for the mark or the bond?
The thought ached in my chest, a slow, twisting sting I tried to push away, because Then stay close had sounded far too warm and real to be just duty. And as if sensing every spiraling thought in my head, he squeezed my hand, his thumb brushing softly across my skin, grounding me in a way words never could.
The squeeze of his hand pulled me back into the moment. I stared down at our fingers, his larger hand wrapped around mine like it belonged there. It felt safe. Too safe, maybe, because safety made my feelings louder. I looked out the window instead, watching the lights blur past, hoping they'd drown out the noise in my chest. But he didn't let go. His grip stayed steady, warm, almost stubborn. When I finally glanced at him again, he wasn't dramatic about it, no intense stare, no bold question, just a quick look, soft and almost shy, like he was making sure I was okay without pushing me to talk. Somehow, that small, gentle act made everything inside me ache even more.
We finally reached the mall, the bright lights spilling across the windshield as he eased the car into a parking spot. The engine fell quiet, and for a moment neither of us moved. When he let go of my hand to take out the keys, the sudden space between us felt strangely cold. He didn't say anything, just stepped out and walked around to my side. The door opened with a soft click, and there he was, framed by the glow of the overhead lights, looking at me like he was making sure I was okay before anything else. He held out his hand, not forcing, not expecting, just offering. And without thinking twice, I slipped my fingers into his again, feeling his warmth close around mine as if it had been waiting there the whole time.
His intense eyes connected with my soft ones, and for a moment the world felt like it had shrunk around us. The morning sunlight hit me, warm and gentle, casting a soft glow over everything, but all I could see was him, every detail of his face, the way his gaze held me steady, the quiet strength behind it. My heart skipped, caught between the brightness of the day and the weight of his presence, and I realized how much I wanted to stay in that moment, just like this, with him.
He shut the car door behind me and locked it. Then we walked side by side toward the mall entrance, the silence between us feeling unexpectedly heavy.
Finally, he broke it.
"What brands do you buy the most from?"
Brands? My mind went blank. I usually just bought from normal shops, nothing fancy, something decent. I hesitated before answering, unsure how to put it into words.
He must have noticed, because a small, knowing smile tugged at his lips.
"I know a brand you'll like," he said smoothly. "How about this one? Or do you want to check other shops instead?"
Something in the way he said it, the ease, the confidence, made it impossible not to smile back. I felt a little lighter, the heaviness between us softening just enough to keep walking beside him.
I shrugged, trying to hide how flustered I felt.
"Let's… try that one," I said softly, my voice just above a whisper.
He nodded, a small satisfied smile playing at his lips, and we turned toward the store he had in mind. The mall was alive with chatter and footsteps, but it felt like we were in our own bubble. My fingers brushed against his now and then, accidental or not, and each time a little spark ran through me.
Inside the store, he guided me past racks and shelves, pointing out items with easy familiarity.
"You'd like this," he said, holding up a soft sweater. "It suits you."
I looked at him, caught between embarrassment and the quiet warmth of being noticed. He didn't wait for me to respond; instead, he simply set the sweater down and reached for another item, glancing back at me with that same calm, steady gaze. I realized I could watch him like this forever, the way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he made the simplest things feel intimate.
"How do you know what I like?" I asked, pointing out, half in curiosity, half in disbelief.
He glanced at me, a small, confident smile playing on his lips.
"Let's just say… I pay attention," he replied, his eyes locking with mine in a way that made my stomach twist. "And I like figuring things out about you."
I felt heat rise to my cheeks, caught off guard by how effortlessly he read me. There was a pause, just long enough for the silence to thrum between us, before he added, softer this time,
"But if I get it wrong, we can always find something else."