I bit my tongue on my coffee the next morning when Brandon offered to give me a lift to work. I nearly choked on my coffee. He stood there a bit back-leaning in the corner of the kitchen, and his eyes nailed mine. I almost felt that my heart missed a beat.
"Want a ride?" he asked in an ultralow voice.
I blinked, trying to figure out his words. "Uh, sure," I let it out, revealing how clueless I was.
I finished my coffee and followed him out of the house. To my surprise, he opened the car door for me and closed it after I went inside.
The drive turned out to be musings. Brandon appeared different, less tight, less on edge. There was a weighty silence between us but not tensely so, as if both were becoming comfortably accustomed to this strange particularity. I shot a glance at him from
