Brandon's POV
He turned and smiled at me as if nothing had happened, his hands steady on the wheel as the car eased onto the next road. The sunlight cast slow-moving shadows across his face, each flicker making him look like a frame in some old film reel
How could he not feel the awkwardness brewing inside me?
Our faces had been just inches apart only moments ago—close enough for me to see the faint spots of gold in his irises, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath.
I wanted to speak, to break the silence before it crushed me, but my tongue knotted itself. The air inside the car felt thick. My chest rose and fell in a rhythm I was sure he could hear.
That moment kept replaying in my mind on an endless loop: the way he looked at me, the way his hands rested on my arms, grounding me. The way our lips almost—almost—touched. And the way I just stood there, frozen. Why didn't I move? Why didn't I just laugh it off? Why did I stay?
