Madison
I fidgeted with my purse strap as John navigated the evening traffic. Alexander sat beside me, his presence making the back seat feel impossibly small. The leather seats squeaked as I shifted, trying to maintain a professional distance.
The city lights blurred past the tinted windows as we drove. I kept my eyes fixed ahead, pretending to be fascinated by the brake lights of the cars in front of us. My mind was elsewhere, tangled in confusion about why Alexander had decided to take me out for dinner. It wasn't like him to suggest such things, especially not in the midst of a busy week.
Then I felt his hand on my thigh, warm through the thin fabric of my skirt. My breath caught.
"The driver," I whispered, mortified. My eyes darted to John's reflection in the rearview mirror.
Ale
