Spark in the dark

Amanda Carter sprawled across her bed, the glow of her laptop casting shadows on the walls of her cluttered room. Empty chip bags and a half-drunk soda can sat on her nightstand, relics of another day spent binge-watching a show she barely cared about. The hum of the air conditioner drowned out the city noise outside...honking cars, distant music, life she wasn’t part of. It had been a month since she had returned from service, a year of early mornings, endless drills, and teaching kids in a rural school that felt like another planet. She had survived it, but now? Now she was stuck, and her room was the only place that didn’t demand she figure out what came next. “AMANDA!” Her mother’s voice sliced through the door like a knife. “Come out of there, you lazy ass! You’ve been indoors for months since you got back from service. Don’t you want a life outside this room?” Amanda groaned, rolling onto her stomach, her face half-buried in a pillow. “It’s been a month, Mama, not months,” she mumbled, loud enough to hope it carried. She didn’t move. The thought of facing her mother’s lecture, or worse, her pity...made her stomach twist. She just needed time. Time to breathe, to forget the exhaustion of service, to dodge the questions about jobs and plans and “what’s next.” The door flew open, and her mother stood there, hands on hips, her floral dress as loud as her voice. “Amanda Marie Carter, don’t you dare talk back to me. I’m not raising a hermit. You’re twenty-four, not fourteen. Get up, take a shower, and put on something that doesn’t look like you stole it from a laundry basket.” Amanda sat up, shoving her tangled hair out of her face. “Mama, can you please let me be? I’ll get a life, okay? It’s not like I’ve been in here for a year.” Her voice was sharp, but inside, she felt raw, like her mother’s words were scraping at a wound she hadn’t named yet. Her mom’s eyes softened, just for a second, before the steel returned. “I’m done watching you waste away. My friend Laura’s coming over tomorrow for lunch, and she’s bringing her son, Caleb. He’s back in town, doing well for himself. You two can talk, maybe get you out of this funk.” Amanda’s jaw dropped. “You’re setting me up? Mama, no. I’m not some charity case for your friend’s son!” Her cheeks burned at the thought...some pity date with a guy probably as thrilled about this as she was. “It’s not a setup,” her mom snapped, though her smirk said otherwise. “It’s lunch. Be presentable, or I’m dragging you out myself.” She turned on her heel, leaving the door open like a challenge. Amanda flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. Great. Now she had to play nice with some stranger while her mom and her friend played matchmaker. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine this Caleb. Probably boring, she thought. Some stiff in a button-up, bragging about his job. But a tiny part of her...a part she hated to admit...wondered if maybe, just maybe, meeting someone new wouldn’t be the worst thing. The next day, Amanda stood in front of her mirror, tugging at the hem of a fitted black top she hadn’t worn in months. Her jeans hugged her curves, a far cry from the hoodies she had lived in. She had even put on mascara, though she had grumbled the whole time. “This is stupid,” she muttered, but her reflection didn’t look half bad. She almost felt like herself again...whoever that was. Downstairs, the doorbell rang, and her mom’s voice carried, bright and overly cheerful. “Amanda! They’re here!” She took a deep breath, steeling herself, and headed down. The living room smelled like her mom’s cooking...roast chicken, something sweet baking...and Laura, a petite woman with a warm smile, was already chatting with her mom. Then Amanda saw him. Caleb leaned against the arm of the couch, arms crossed, looking like he’d stepped out of a daydream she hadn’t meant to have. Tall, with broad shoulders and a sharp jawline, he wore a dark green T-shirt that clung just right and jeans that looked lived-in. His eyes, a deep hazel, flicked up to meet hers, and a slow, lopsided grin spread across his face. “You must be Amanda,” he said, his voice low, with a warmth that made her skin tingle. She swallowed, suddenly aware of her heartbeat. “Yeah. Hi.” Brilliant, she thought, cringing at her own awkwardness. Laura beamed. “Caleb’s been running his own little business, fixing up old cars. Keeps him busy, but I keep telling him he needs to slow down, meet someone nice.” She nudged him, and Caleb’s grin tightened, like he was used to this. Amanda’s mom jumped in. “Oh, Amanda’s just taking a break after service, but she’s got so much potential. Don’t you, sweetheart?” The look she shot Amanda screamed behave. The small talk dragged on, and Amanda felt like she was on display, every glance from Caleb making her hyper-aware of herself...her posture, her hair, the way her top dipped just low enough to show a hint of cleavage. He wasn’t staring, but he wasn’t not looking either. When their moms suggested they grab dessert from a bakery down the street..."Give you kids a chance to chat!”...Amanda wanted to bolt. But Caleb’s “You coming?” and the way he held the door open made her follow. In his car, the air was different. felt closer. The seats were worn leather, and the faint scent of his cologne...woodsy, with a hint of heat filled the space. He started the engine, and the low rumble vibrated through her. “So,” he said, glancing at her as he pulled onto the street, “you always let your mom play matchmaker, or is this a special occasion?” She snorted, relaxing a fraction. “Trust me, this is all her. I’m just here for the cake.” But her eyes betrayed her, flicking to his hands on the wheel, the way his fingers flexed, strong and sure. He chuckled, low and rough. “Yeah? ‘Cause you don’t strike me as a cake girl.” His gaze slid over her, quick but deliberate, lingering on her lips before snapping back to the road. “More like trouble, maybe.” Her breath caught, and she shifted, her knee brushing his hand on the gearshift. The contact was a spark, hot and sudden, and neither of them moved. His thumb grazed her skin, slow, testing, and Amanda’s pulse thundered. “Careful,” she said, voice barely above a whisper, but it came out like an invitation. Her body was screaming, every nerve awake, wanting his hand to stay, to slide higher. Caleb’s eyes darkened, his jaw tight as he stopped at a light. “You’re making it real hard to focus on driving,” he said, voice husky, his thumb still brushing her knee, deliberate now. The air was thick, the space between them shrinking. She leaned in, just an inch, her lips parting, the heat in her core building as she imagined his hands on her, his mouth closing the distance. “You’re not making it easy either,” she murmured, her voice low, daring. His gaze dropped to her lips, and for a moment, she thought he’d pull her across the console, kiss her right there, hard and hungry. Her skin burned at the thought, her breath shallow. A horn blared behind them. Caleb cursed, his hand pulling back as he hit the gas. But the tension didn’t break—it hung there, heavy, a promise of more. “We’re not done,” he said, glancing at her, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine. Amanda didn’t answer, but the heat in her cheeks and the ache in her chest said enough. For the first time in weeks, she didn’t want to hide.