He stared at his phone screen for what felt like an hour.
The draft of the message had been sitting there—half-finished, half-formed, fully terrifying—for the past fifteen minutes. Maybe longer. He hadn't checked.
His thumb hovered over the screen, like the act of typing would betray him. As if pressing "send" would undo everything that made this quiet thing between them safe.
But he couldn't stop thinking about her.
Not just in the casual way friends drift into mind.
No.
She lived in the space between his thoughts now.
In the way he caught himself staring at empty passenger seats.
In the way his fingers moved slower around his tools when something reminded him of the sound of her laugh.
In the way the silence he used to crave now felt too quiet without her in it.
He leaned back against the cool wall of his dorm, the lights off, a hoodie tugged over his head. His roommate Mateo was out again—he never asked where, and Mateo never offered. That worked for both of them.
But tonight?
Alexander wished someone else were here to tell him this wasn't insane.
Because this was forward.
Too forward, maybe.
Not for most people.
But for him?
It felt like leaping off something and hoping there was water at the bottom.
He typed it out for the fourth time.
| i've been working up the balls to ask this, but | do u maybe wanna go out to a movie sometime?
He reread it. Twice.
Was "balls" too crude?
Should he have gone with "nerve"?
No, that felt too stiff.
He wanted it to be light. Like a joke. Like it wasn't as terrifying as it was.
But it was.
He had never asked anyone out before. Never wanted to.
Relationships always seemed like too much—too demanding, too heavy.
And he liked his life simple.
His hands stained with oil, his nights spent in parking garages, his time his own.
He didn't need someone else's rhythm in his world.
At least, that's what he used to believe.
Until her.
Until Elena.
He hit send before he could change his mind.
And instantly regretted it.
"Fuck."
The word slipped out before he could stop it. He dragged both hands down his face, his phone still balanced in his palm like a bomb.
He hadn't even meant to say it tonight. It wasn't planned. It wasn't some bold, confident thing he'd built up to.
It just... happened.
And now it was out there.
God.
What if she laughed?
Not the good kind of laugh, but the awkward one. The one that dodged discomfort.
What if she ghosted him?
No—Elena wouldn't do that.
She wasn't cruel.
But still. He felt like an idiot.
What if she thought he was reading into things?
What if she only saw him as the quiet car guy who gave her rides and fixed her friends' cars and smoked too many cigarettes?
What if he misread everything?
He put the phone down and stared at the ceiling like it owed him answers.
His pulse had kicked up a notch. Not adrenaline. Not excitement.
Fear.
And that surprised him.
Because Alexander didn't get scared like this.
Not of people.
Not of rejection.
But somehow... she mattered.
Too much.
The buzz of his phone nearly knocked the air out of him.
He stared at the notification, heart caught in his throat.
Two messages.
Elena
| wait | was that like | a date date?
And then—
| or am i just special enough to be the BMW's friday night copilot 👀
He exhaled.
Laughed—quiet, a breath of relief.
Something in him relaxed, just a little.
But beneath that laugh was something else. Something heavier. Warmer.
Because she hadn't said no.
She hadn't ignored it.
She'd... played with it. Teased, even.
But the question was still there, sitting quietly underneath the emojis and lowercase letters:
Did you mean this?
Is this real?
And yeah, he did.
God, he really did.
He sat forward, elbows on knees, phone in hand, staring at the messages.
He didn't respond yet.
He just let himself feel it.
This quiet rush of affection and panic and joy and disbelief.
He had never wanted this.
Never needed anyone the way he was starting to need her.
But maybe that was the point.
Maybe wanting wasn't weakness.
Maybe it was proof of something living.
Something finally growing.
And for the first time in a long time—
Alexander let himself want back.