Brandon's POV
The night air rushed against my face as I drove, the hum of engines mixing with the occasional blare of car horns. The wind whipped through the open windows, filling the silence between us with something that wasn't quite peace — but not tension either. The air smelled faintly of gasoline and damp asphalt.
Chloe sat beside me, quiet. Her eyes kept darting toward me and then away, like she couldn't decide if she should smile or stay guarded. She looked different tonight — softer somehow. Her hair fell loosely across her face, and when she tucked it behind her ear, it was like everything slowed for a second. God, she was beautiful. The kind of beauty that made you forget how to breathe.
And yet, beneath it all, guilt gnawed at me.
Even when I tried to drown in her laughter, even when I replayed the way her lips had felt — the warmth, the shock, the rush — the guilt stayed. I couldn't help wondering: Would she have kissed me if she knew what I was hiding?
