Chapter 19: Actually A Gentleman
Lara blinked.
"Wait… what?"
"You heard me."
She frowned. "Why would you do that?"
Reagan arched a brow. "Would you rather go home alone?"
Lara opened her mouth, then closed it.
He had a point. She didn't exactly feel safe getting into a car by herself in this state.
Still, she couldn't wrap her head around it.
They had just met. He didn't seem like the type of man to concern himself with someone else's problems, let alone a woman he barely knew. He had an air of authority, of control. Someone who kept his distance, who didn't offer help unless absolutely necessary.
And yet… here he was.
"I can't bother you," she said slowly.
Reagan exhaled, looking unimpressed. "Just take the offer while I'm being nice."
She crossed her arms. "You don't have to be nice. I can take care of myself."
Reagan arched a brow. "I'm sure you can. But my conscience won't let me leave a drunk woman to go home alone. I'm not heartless."
Lara hesitated.
She wanted to refuse. She barely knew him, and she hated the idea of owing him anything. But at the same time… she was a little scared. Booking a Grab meant getting into a car with a complete stranger, and in her current state, that wasn't exactly safe. As much as she wanted to prove she could handle herself, she wasn't willing to risk her safety just to be stubborn.
After a long pause, she finally sighed. "…Fine."
Reagan's lips twitched slightly. "Good girl."
Heat crept up Lara's cheeks at the unexpected remark, but she quickly composed herself, pretending she hadn't heard that. Without another word, she pulled out her phone and sent Duke a text.
Lara:Going home now.
It didn't take long for Duke to reply.
Duke: Wait for me. I'll drive you home.
Lara hesitated before typing back.
Lara: No need. Enjoy your night with Ash. Reagan's taking me home.
Almost immediately, her phone buzzed again.
Duke: Huh? He is? Since when did you two get close?
Lara rolled her eyes and typed out a quick reply.
Lara: He's just doing me a favor.
There was a slight delay before Duke responded again.
Duke: Reagan's not the type to do favors… but since he offered, you'll be fine. You're in good hands. Get home safe. Text me when you arrive.
She smiled faintly, grateful for Duke's concern, and quickly sent a short reply before also texting Ali to let her know she was leaving.
By the time she looked up, Reagan was already on his feet, fixing the sleeves of his crisp button-down. His sharp green eyes flickered toward her. "Ready?"
Lara nodded, placing her phone in her bag before standing. The moment she did, the room tilted slightly, and she had to steady herself.
Reagan didn't miss it. "Do you need help?"
"I can handle myself," she said stubbornly, though she could feel her own steps wobbling.
She made her way toward the door, reaching for the handle, but it suddenly felt heavier than it should. Before she could struggle with it, Reagan was there, his presence solid behind her as he reached over and pulled the door open with ease.
Lara stiffened. She hadn't even realized how close he was until she felt the heat of his body at her back. Without looking at him, she muttered, "Thanks," and quickly stepped out.
The moment she reached the stairs, she stopped.
They blurred for a second, doubling in her vision. She blinked, hoping it would go away, but when she opened her eyes again, the steps still wavered.
Before she could take a step, a firm yet gentle hand wrapped around her elbow.
Lara flinched at the contact, but Reagan's grip wasn't overbearing. It was steady, grounding. She glanced at him, momentarily unsure.
"Careful," he murmured, guiding her down the steps.
She swallowed hard, nodding slightly. "Thank you…"
He didn't respond, simply keeping his hold firm until they reached the parking lot.
They stopped in front of a sleek black Bugatti, the faint glow of streetlights reflecting off its polished surface.
Reagan finally let go, and Lara instinctively took a small step back. She expected him to get in and unlock the doors from inside, but instead, Reagan moved to the passenger side, opening the door for her.
She blinked in surprise.
Before she could react, he placed a light hand on her back, guiding her into the seat. His movements were controlled, ensuring she didn't bump her head as she got in.
Then, just as she thought he would step back, he leaned in. His arm brushing against her as he reached for the seatbelt.
Lara froze.
The scent of his cologne, clean, sharp, with a faint trace of something dark and expensive wrapped around her, making her suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was. She held her breath as he clicked the seatbelt into place before pulling back.
His movements were efficient, almost indifferent, yet somehow, the simple action left her momentarily stunned.
With a quiet thud, he shut the door and walked around the car, slipping into the driver's seat.
"Address?" he asked, his voice low and steady as he started the engine.
Lara blinked, snapping herself out of whatever trance she had fallen into. "Oh. Right." She quickly recited her address.
As the car glided through the streets, she leaned her head against the cool glass, watching the city lights stretch and blur past.
A familiar thought crept in.
Is Lucas home?
Would he notice I'm late? Would he even care?
The thought was bitter, but she swallowed it down, forcing herself to focus on the shifting scenery instead. Without realizing it, her eyelids grew heavier, the alcohol in her system mixing with the quiet hum of the engine, pulling her into sleep.
She woke up to the sound of an engine idling.
Lara's eyes fluttered open, momentarily disoriented. The car was parked.
She sat up, blinking, before a deep voice broke through the quiet.
"You're finally awake."
She turned her head, her gaze landing on Reagan, who sat casually in the driver's seat. One hand rested on the wheel, while the other draped lazily over the open window.
Realizing what happened, heat rushed to her cheeks.
"I—I fell asleep?" she asked, her voice slightly hoarse.
Reagan's lips twitched. "You did."
Embarrassment crept up her spine.
"Sorry," she muttered, rubbing her temples. "I didn't mean to—"
"It's fine," Reagan said, cutting her off with an indifferent shrug.
Lara sat up straighter. "Why didn't you wake me up?"
He tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering in his sharp green eyes. "How could I? You were sleeping like a baby."
Lara groaned, covering her face with her hands. "I can't believe this," she mumbled.
"You're making a big deal out of nothing." Reagan said, his tone as calm as ever.
She peeked at him through her fingers before sighing and dropping her hands. "Still. Sorry for taking up your time."
Reagan gave her a flat look. "Why do you keep apologizing?"
Lara stilled.
It was such a simple question.
Yet, for a moment, it felt like it stripped her bare.
She had spent more than three years apologizing—for things she did, for things she didn't do, for simply existing in Lucas's life. It had become second nature.
Her fingers curled slightly in her lap.
But she wasn't about to explain that to Reagan.
Instead, she took a quiet breath, forcing a small smile. "Habit, I guess."
Reagan studied her for a moment but didn't push.
Clearing her throat, she unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the door handle. "Thank you for the ride, Reagan. I appreciate it."
Reagan didn't respond right away. His gaze lingered on her, unreadable, before he finally gave a slight nod.
As she stepped out, she turned back to him, hesitating for a second before adding, "I'll make it up to you somehow."
His expression remained neutral, but there was a glint of amusement in his green eyes. "You don't have to."
"Still. I owe you one."
He exhaled, shaking his head lightly. "Suit yourself."
Lara smiled, a small, genuine one this time. "Drive safe."
She closed the door before he could respond, turning toward the gate. She pushed it open, stepping into the quiet driveway before heading to the main door.
Just as she reached for the handle, the deep rumble of the car's engine sounded behind her. She glanced back, watching as Reagan's car slowly pulled away, disappearing into the night.
She lingered there for a second, gripping the doorknob.
Reagan didn't look like it, but he was actually… a gentleman.