Page 4 of Before I Should Leave
The rain got louder like somebody turned the volume up on the whole damn sky. We were at a full stop now with hazards blinking up ahead, sirens faint in the distance, water pooling around tires. I clicked my iPad off with a frustrated click and let it rest on my thighs.
Diesel didn’t even flinch.
He reached forward, turned the music up just a notch.
Now, it was Musiq Soulchild, slow and steady like the universe was in on the setup.
And then, he leaned back into the seat like we had nowhere to be but here.
I sighed, letting my head fall back gently against the seat.
“This is some bullshit.”
“Yup,”
he said casually, eyes still on the soaked mess ahead.
“A whole fuckin’ mess.”
“GPS says we’ve been sitting in the same quarter-mile for twelve minutes, and the airport’s still fifty minutes out.”
“You ain’t gon’ miss the flight,”
he said, voice deep and even.
“But if you do… there’s worse things than bein’ stuck in a storm with good company and tequila.”
I glanced at him.
“So you think you’re good company?”
“I know I am,”
he said, finally giving me that full smirk that’d been threatening since Jonnae’s little slip-up.
I sucked my teeth, turning my face toward the window to hide the slow smile creeping across my lips.
The lights outside reflected off the glass, casting everything in golds and grays.
My stomach fluttered in that way it only did when something unfamiliar but good was happening.
I wasn’t used to men I didn’t control the tempo with.
He wasn’t leaning in too hard or trying too much.
He was just… being. And that shit was messing with me more than I wanted to admit.
I took another breath, quieter this time.
“I don’t like the in-between.”
His brow creased slightly in the mirror.
“What you mean?”
“Like this. The not knowing. Being still. Having no say. I’ve always had this thing about needing to know what’s next.”
“You’re scared of what happens when you don’t?”
I paused.
“I don’t think it’s fear. I just… I’ve worked too hard to be thrown off course by variables I didn’t plan for.”
He let that sit for a beat and then replied.
“That sound a lot like fear to me.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Are you usually this philosophical in gridlocked traffic?”
“Nah. Just when I’m ridin’ with a woman who got too much on her mind and not enough room to breathe.”
I looked at him. Really looked. He didn’t look at me. Didn’t push. Just kept his eyes on the windshield and let the silence between us thicken in the best kind of way.
“So what about you?”
I asked after a moment.
“What do you do when life throws you off course?”
“I adjust,”
he said simply.
“That’s all life is. Adjustment. Storm comes? You don’t fight it. You drive through it. Keep your hands on the wheel and your eyes forward.”
“That simple, huh?”
“Most shit is.”
A lightning flash lit the inside of the car briefly, followed by a slow, rolling clap of thunder. We both went quiet for a second, the sound filling up everything. Diesel reached forward again and this time, pulled a small towel from the glove compartment, then twisted in his seat and held it out.
“Your window’s foggin’. Thought you might wanna wipe it.”
I took it from him without a word, our fingers brushing briefly. My skin tingled at the contact. Just a spark, but enough. I wiped the inside of the window in slow, absent circles, pretending to be focused on the glass while watching him from the corner of my eye.
“You always been like this?”
I asked, setting the towel down.
“All calm and collected, smooth with the words, offering tequila like it’s therapy?”
He chuckled, deep and low. I shook my head, lips pressed together to keep the laugh in.
“You know I should report you, right?”
“For what?”
“For… this. The whole vibe. This is too intimate for a car ride. It should be illegal.”
His eyes flicked to me in the mirror again.
“But you ain’t told me to turn the music down, stop talkin’ or pull over so you can wait on another ride.”
I didn’t say anything because I didn’t need to. He was right. I hadn’t said stop. If anything, part of me was hoping this traffic didn’t clear too fast.