The road stretched ahead in a smooth ribbon of asphalt, disappearing into a horizon brushed with soft, romantic clouds, gold and lavender bleeding into one another like a painted secret. The car glided forward beneath that sky as if it, too, had surrendered to the mood of the weather.
Fallyn sat in the front passenger seat, angled slightly toward Manson. She wasn't even pretending to be subtle.
"You know…" she began, her voice light, almost playful, fingers tracing idle patterns along the seatbelt strap. "It's kind of impressive how you drive. So steady. So focused."
Manson kept his eyes on the road. "It's called not wanting to crash."
Fallyn smiled anyway, undeterred. "Still. Most people tense up behind the wheel. You… you look like you belong here. Like the road listens to you."
A beat of silence.
Then she leaned in just a fraction more, her perfume drifting faintly between them. "Do you ever get bored driving alone?"
"I'm not alone," he replied flatly.
