Chapter 14
1123 Words
The entire car ride felt dangerous.
Not because he was speeding.
Though, to be fair, he probably was.
But because every second beside him felt like standing too close to the edge of something I knew I wouldn’t be able to come back from.
He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the center console, and I had to physically force myself not to stare.
I hated how hyper-aware I was of him.
Of everything.
The music playing low through the speakers.
The city lights passing in blurred gold.
The clean scent of his cologne mixed with leather and night air.
The way his jaw tightened slightly when he was concentrating.
The way he kept glancing over at me like he was making sure I was still there.
“So,” I said eventually, because silence was becoming too intense to survive, “are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“No.”
I turned to him.
“No?”
“No.”
“You’re k********g me.”
He smiled.
“Only a little.”
“That’s actually very illegal.”
“You seem calm for a k********g victim.”
I crossed my arms.
“I’m waiting for more evidence.”
He laughed softly.
And for a second, I just watched him.
Because I didn’t think he realized how different he looked when he laughed for real.
Not performative.
Not practiced.
Just genuine.
It made him look younger somehow.
Lighter.
Like maybe underneath all the pressure and reputation and expectation…
He was still just a boy.
One trying very hard not to disappoint everyone.
“You keep doing that,” he said suddenly.
I blinked.
“Doing what?”
“Looking at me like you’re trying to solve a mystery.”
I looked out the window instantly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He smirked.
“Sure.”
And then, before I could defend myself, he pulled into a small lot overlooking the water.
Not crowded.
Not flashy.
Just quiet.
String lights glowed softly over a tucked-away little restaurant near the bay, all warm windows and low music and tables overlooking the city.
I stared at it.
Then at him.
Then back at it.
“This is where we’re eating?”
He looked almost nervous now.
Which somehow made my heart ache.
“Do you hate it?”
I turned to him so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash.
“No,” I said immediately. “No, I just…”
I looked back out at the lights reflecting on the water.
“It’s beautiful.”
And Landon—
Landon actually relaxed.
Like he had been waiting for that answer.
Like it mattered.
“Good,” he said softly.
Dinner should have been awkward.
It should have been.
Two teenagers on a first date, sitting across from each other in a place way too romantic for either of us to pretend this was casual.
But somehow…
It wasn’t.
Not really.
Not once we got past the first ten minutes of pretending we weren’t both hyper-aware of everything.
Once the menus were down and the nerves wore off just enough to breathe, it became easy again.
Almost too easy.
“So,” Landon said after the waitress left, “tell me something no one here knows about you.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“That sounds suspicious.”
“It’s called conversation.”
“It sounds like psychological warfare.”
He smiled.
“You first, then.”
I leaned back in my chair.
“Okay.” I thought for a second. “When I was seven, I was fully convinced I was going to be President.”
He laughed immediately.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“What changed?”
“I learned people are stupid.”
That made him laugh harder.
And God, that sound.
That sound was going to ruin me.
“I’m serious,” I said, trying not to smile too much. “I made my family call me Madam President for six months.”
He looked delighted.
“That is the most aggressively on-brand thing I’ve ever heard.”
I pointed at him.
“Your turn.”
He leaned back.
“When I was ten,” he said, “I ran away from home.”
I blinked.
“What?”
He nodded once, fully serious.
I stared at him.
“Landon Baxter, there is no way you successfully ran away from home.”
“Oh, I didn’t.”
I folded my arms.
“Then explain.”
He smiled into his water glass.
“I packed a backpack, stole a flashlight, and made it exactly two houses down before my mom’s assistant found me crying because it was dark.”
I stared at him for one stunned second.
Then burst out laughing.
Like full, ugly, uncontrollable laughter.
“Oh my God.”
He was laughing too now.
“It was traumatic.”
“You made it two houses.”
“I was ten.”
“You were dramatic.”
He grinned.
“I still am.”
“That, I believe.”
Dinner came and went in a blur of conversation.
The kind that starts small and somehow becomes everything.
Favorite songs.
Worst childhood phases.
Dream schools.
Family stories.
What scares us.
What keeps us up at night.
And the strangest part was how natural it all felt.
Like I had known him longer than a week.
Like I had known him before I ever met him.
Like maybe some people just arrive in your life already familiar.
At one point, I looked up and caught him watching me.
Not speaking.
Just watching.
His chin resting lightly against his hand.
His expression unreadable.
“What?” I asked.
He blinked like he’d been caught.
Then smiled a little.
“Nothing.”
“No, seriously.”
He hesitated.
Then said, “You’re prettier when you laugh.”
And just like that, I forgot how to breathe.
I looked down at my plate because there was simply no dignified way to survive that kind of statement at seventeen.
“You can’t just say things like that.”
He looked amused.
“Why not?”
“Because then I won’t know how to act.”
He leaned in slightly.
“Maybe I don’t want you to.”
The air shifted.
And suddenly everything felt different.
He was still smiling.
Barely.
But there was something quieter in his eyes now.
Something warmer.
Something dangerous.
I should’ve looked away.
Instead, I held his gaze.
And for one impossible second, the whole world felt suspended.
Then the waitress returned with our drinks and I nearly passed away from the timing alone.
(Chapter Theme Song: Iris by Goo Goo Dolls)
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