The cool evening breeze brushed softly against Naomi's skin as she stepped out of her building, her heels clicking faintly against the stone walkway. The glow of headlights painted her in gentle silver, and her heart thudded harder than she would ever admit. Michael was already there, leaning casually against his car, his tall frame outlined in the warm wash of streetlight.When he saw her, his lips curved slowly into a smile—steady, warm, and so disarmingly genuine that Naomi's steps faltered for just a fraction of a second."Hey," he said, his voice carrying that easy calmness that always seemed to belong to him. He straightened, pushing off the car with one hand. His gaze swept over her—not in a way that made her uncomfortable, but in a way that felt like he'd actually noticed her. "You look good."Heat crept up Naomi's neck, and she had to remind herself to breathe. She managed a composed smile, her voice softer than she intended. "Thanks."Michael didn't let the moment linger awkwardly. With a subtle nod, he walked around and opened the passenger door for her.
The chivalry of the gesture caught her off guard, a touch of old-world courtesy that seemed rare these days. She lowered herself into the seat, smoothing down the flare of her milk-colored shirt dress as she did.It was simple but elegant—the kind of dress that didn't scream for attention but whispered grace in every fold. Tasha had insisted on it. In fact, Tasha had insisted on everything tonight.the soft waves in Naomi's hair, the faint shimmer of eyeshadow, the lovely makeup and the finishing touch of pink gloss that now caught the glow from the dashboard lights. Naomi had resisted, but now, sitting in Michael's car under his quiet gaze, she silently thanked her best friend for refusing to take no for an answer.
Michael shut the door gently once she was seated, circling back to the driver's side. He slid in, adjusting the wheel with casual ease, though Naomi noticed the faint curve of his smile lingered as if he were still replaying the sight of her in his mind.The car purred to life with a smooth rumble, and they pulled into the stream of traffic.
For the first few minutes, silence wrapped itself around them—not heavy, but taut with unspoken thoughts. Naomi stared out of the window, her reflection faintly visible in the glass. She traced the line of city lights with her eyes, trying not to be too aware of him sitting just inches away, his scent—something crisp with a hint of spice—mixing faintly with the clean leather of the car.Michael finally broke the quiet, his voice even. "So, we'll be there in about fifteen minutes. If traffic's kind to us."Naomi turned slightly toward him, giving a small nod. "Okay." She smiled, polite but careful. Her eyes, however, darted back to the window before his could fully meet hers.He noticed—he always noticed—but said nothing. Instead, he reached forward, one hand leaving the wheel briefly to tap the console. "Hope you don't mind if I put on some music?" he asked, glancing at her quickly before returning his eyes to the road.Naomi shook her head, more relaxed at the question than she expected. "Not at all. I actually love music while on the road."Michael's lips twitched, almost a smile, as though her answer pleased him. With a flick of his hand, the soft strum of a guitar filled the car, low and melodic. A voice followed—familiar, aching, tender.Naomi's eyes widened, and before she could stop herself, the words slipped out. "Wait… is that Dean Lewis?"Michael turned his head slightly, and this time, his smile was full. "Yeah. You listen to him too?"The warmth that rushed through Naomi's chest was instantaneous, almost childlike in its delight. She laughed softly, the sound unguarded, genuine. "Yeah, I do." Her lips curved into a smile she couldn't contain, the kind that brightened her whole face.For the first time since she'd stepped into the car, her gaze lingered on him. He glanced at her quickly, catching the spark in her eyes, and something in his chest stirred.The chords swelled in the background, the lyrics slipping between them like a secret meant to be shared.
Naomi shifted slightly in her seat, fingers brushing against the hem of her dress, her nerves smoothing out with every familiar note.There was something intoxicating about it—the way a song could build a bridge where silence had threatened to stretch too wide.Michael tapped his fingers lightly against the wheel in rhythm, his voice almost lost under the music when he spoke. "Not many people I know listen to him. It's… nice. To find someone who does."Naomi tilted her head, her lips parting slightly before curving into a shy grin. "It feels like his songs… understand you, doesn't it?"Michael's eyes flicked toward her, lingering for a moment longer than before. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Exactly that."And just like that, the car no longer felt like a cage of silence—it felt alive, thrumming with a connection neither had planned for, but both could feel.
The lyrics floated around them, bittersweet and raw, the kind of song that didn't just play—it reached into you, tugging gently at memories you tried to forget. Naomi stared out the window, the blur of city lights against the glass merging with the melody.
She felt him glance at her again. She didn't turn, but she felt it—the weight of it, the warmth of it.
The car rolled forward through traffic, headlights casting shifting patterns across his face. Naomi found herself studying him in stolen glances—the sharp line of his jaw, the way his hands rested confidently on the steering wheel, the ease in his posture. He wasn't overly dressed up, but there was a kind of effortless sharpness to him. The kind of man who didn't need to try to command attention—he simply did.And yet here he was, humming along softly to Dean Lewis, meeting her taste in music like it was the most natural thing in the world.She looked away quickly, heat crawling up her neck. This wasn't supposed to feel like this. This wasn't supposed to feel like anything at all.But it did.
Is this his latest song, Naomi asked.