You slumped in the back seat of the car, the leather cool against your flushed skin, dabbing at your face with a crumpled tissue. You rubbed harder than needed, the friction turning your cheeks a light, stinging red—like a rash from too much sun. The distant thump of bass from the strip club faded behind you, replaced by the quiet hum of the idling engine and your own ragged breaths. Your cousin watched you through the rearview mirror, his eyes flicking up every few seconds. He sighed again, deep and uneven, each exhale laced with a tight edge of anxieth.
You stopped suddenly, the tissue balling in your fist, and the dam broke. Sobs wracked your chest, hot tears spilling over despite your efforts. No way—your first real shot at fun in forever, and it ended like *this*? Splattered with some stranger's mess, the sharp, salty tang still clinging to your skin even after wiping. Were you cursed, or was the universe just playing cruel jokes? If this was karma for past mistakes—those high school games, the betrayals—you'd paid up a thousand times over. Endless nights of doubt, the weight of depression pressing like a stone. You were human, damn it. You deserved a sliver of joy, not this endless drag.
Financially? You had it all—penthouse views, endless accounts from the family firm, clothes that draped like armor. But happy? Miserable. On a scale that swallowed days whole.
"Hi," your cousin said softly, twisting in the driver's seat to face you, forcing a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. You wanted to unload on him, pin the blame for dragging you into that neon nightmare. But you couldn't—not fully. You'd pushed for the adventure, nodded at the strip club idea yourself. Still, one thing stuck: him, invading your carefully walled-off world. And with that thought, you decided. You'd shove him back out.
"Let's go home," you said, brows knitting as you faked a scowl, arms crossing tight over your chest.
He chuckled low, the sound warm but tentative, and reached back to brush his thumb over your cheek—right where the sticky horror had landed. The touch was gentle, almost tender, patting lightly as if wiping away more than just the stain. It grated, felt too close, too knowing. But underneath? A flicker of something else—comfort, maybe, or the first real warmth in ages. Enticing. Satisfying, in a way that twisted your gut.
Mixed signals flooded you. Push him away, keep the walls high? Or let him chip at them, see if he carved a spot? You didn't know. But one thing was crystal: you needed out. "Please, take me home. I'm getting uncomfortable."
His face fell in an instant, the easy light dimming to something shadowed and raw, like a switch flipped off. The air in the car thickened, his jaw clenching as he stared ahead, knuckles whitening on the wheel. Whatever you'd said hit deep—triggered a ghost you couldn't see.
Curiosity spiked, laced with a prickle of fear. What if this pushed him over? You weren't ready to test that edge, not on a quiet side street where the world felt too small. "Uh... what's wrong?" you asked, reaching out to grab his hand—the same one that had caressed your cheek. Your fingers brushed his, tentative.
He pulled away quick, wiggling free with a sharp inhale, and twisted the key. The engine growled to life. "Let's just head home," he muttered, slamming the gear into drive.
But you weren't letting it slide. Not like this—not with that darkness brewing. Your hand shot forward, clicking the gear back to park with a firm clunk. You didn't know his full story, the cracks under that smile. What if anger turned the wheel too fast on the highway later? Your life was a mess, sure, but you weren't cashing it in yet.
He shifted it to drive again, eyes fixed forward, ignoring you like you were background noise. Fine. You slapped it back to park. The car jerked slightly, and the back-and-forth turned into a tense tug-of-war—gears clicking, his frustration building with each shift. Finally, he threw up his hands, scooting over the console with a frustrated skid and dropping into the back seat beside you. The car dipped under his weight, and he fixed you with a glare, eyes stormy, chest heaving.
You winced on instinct, ducking your head and curling in—a reflex from high school hallways, where flinches meant safety. He saw it, the way your shoulders hunched, and the fire drained from him like air from a punctured tire. He exhaled hard, slumping against the seat, rubbing his face with both hands.
"I'm sorry," you whispered, voice small and soft, the words slipping out before you could stop them.
"I thought you wanted to go home."
"Yeah—until you went all dark like that," you said, straightening a little. "I had to know why."
He sighed, long and weary, the sound filling the space between you. You echoed it—yours uneasy, a knot loosening; his heavy, like shedding a load. At least he hadn't snapped at you.
"I was deported from the country," he said after a beat of thick silence, staring at his hands in his lap. You turned fully toward him, intrigued.
"Not officially, by the government or anything," he went on, voice cracking at the edges. "No... I was just dumped here. Abandoned by my parents. I swear to God, it wasn't my fault—but they didn't believe me. You know the last thing my mom said? To her own son? That I was making her uncomfortable."
The words hung there, raw and jagged, and then the tears came—hot tracks down his cheeks, shoulders shaking as he curled forward. You stared, mind racing to connect the dots: the smiles, the easy charm, now this broken flood. But he was lost in it, sobs muffled against his knees. You set the puzzle aside and reached out, stroking his back in slow, steady circles. "It's okay. It's okay," you murmured, the rhythm soothing him—and maybe you too.
He shifted, crawling closer until his head rested heavy on your lap, arms wrapping loose around your waist. The contact sent a shiver through you—a spark igniting low in your belly, warm and unbidden. Arousal flickered to life, coiling tight amid the mess of pity and confusion, his breath warm against your thigh. You froze, hand stilling on his back, the car's quiet cocoon suddenly too small, too charged.....