Page 6 of Before I Should Leave

We sat in that stretch of traffic like the world had paused for us.

The sky outside had gone full charcoal, clouds swallowing the last bits of dusk.

The rain showed no signs of slowing, beating hard against the roof like it was tryna get in.

The music was something old school again—Tevin Campbell, low and soulful—smooth enough to hum to, but dangerous if you let the lyrics sit too long.

I hadn’t said much since he showed me the picture of Draya. I was still chewing on how open he was, on how wrong I was to assume what “baby”

meant, and on how I felt a twinge of guilt for the flash of jealousy I hadn’t invited but felt anyway.

Diesel reached into the center console again and unscrewed the flask. He took a slow sip, keeping his eyes on the road like he needed a little something too. Then he held it up toward the back without turning.

“You want more?”

I hesitated, then leaned forward just enough to take it.

“Thank you.”

He passed it back like it was no big deal. Like he wasn’t sitting in the front seat being the most present, calm, fine-ass man I’d encountered in a long time. I sipped more slowly this time and let the tequila settle in my chest. Warmth spreading, loosening the knots in my stomach and shoulders, I didn’t realize I’d been carrying since the second I got in this car.

“You always this tense?”

he asked, voice a little lower now.

“Or is it just me?”

I glanced at him.

“It’s not you.”

“But I’m not helpin’ either, huh?”

I bit back a smile.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On if this is how you usually talk to clients.”

He chuckled.

“I usually let clients talk to me. You different.”

“Different how?”

He looked at me again. This time, fully, like he needed me to really feel what he was about to say.

“Beautiful.”

My eyes flicked away quickly, catching my own reflection in the window. The gold hoop glinting beneath my hair. The gloss on my lips. The hint of collarbone peeking beneath the open lapel of my trench. I looked good. I always did. But the way he said it wasn’t about my outfit or my image. It was the kind o.

“beautiful”

that made me feel… seen. I let a beat pass before I answered.

“You say that to all of your clients, too?”

“Nah,”

he said simply.

“Just the ones that make me look at the clock and wish traffic would slow just a lil’ bit longer.”

I didn’t respond because what the hell was I supposed to say to that? He turned back toward the windshield like he hadn’t just set something in me on fire.

“Can I ask you somethin’?”

I leaned back into my seat slowly.

“You already are.”

“What’s got a woman like you flyin’ out solo at night? Big conference, storm rollin’ in… Nobody special sendin’ you off though?”

I raised an eyebrow.

“That’s bold.”

“I mean it respectfully.”

I sighed, letting my head tip against the rest.

“Nobody waiting on either end,”

I said, voice calm but honest.

“No ‘somebody.’ No man stressing me out. Just me and my work like it’s always been.”

He nodded once, eyes still ahead.

“You ever want more than that?”

I didn’t answer right away. I stared at the droplets racing each other down the window and listened to the song change to something even slower. More deliberate. One of those tracks that reminded you how long lonely could feel, even when you swore you were fine.

“I used to,”

I finally said.

“Want more, I mean. Thought I needed it. But love’s never been… consistent. Business is.”

“Mmm.”

“That’s what I know how to build. What I know how to manage. People? Feelings? That shit’s messier. Harder to scale.”

He was quiet for a second, then took another sip of the flask and passed it back again without a word. I took it without hesitation this time. After my sip, I set it on the seat beside me and asked.

“So what about you? You’re asking because you got someone waiting somewhere or because you’re just trying to peel my layers back?”

He smirked, real slow. Real deliberate.

“I’m askin’ ‘cause most women I meet don’t give me real answers. I knew you would.”

I paused and felt that too. Every word of it.

“You should be careful with shit like that,”

I said, my voice quieter now.

“That kind of talk can make a woman forget she just needed a ride.”

He let out a low chuckle that sounded like it lived in his chest.

“And you should be careful sittin’ back there lookin’ all good, sippin’ my tequila, and talkin’ like you ain’t been on my mind since you climbed in my truck.”

I swallowed. The heat had nothing to do with the flask now. A red light glowed up ahead. We slowed to another stop, the thunder rolling in again like background applause. Neither of us said anything for a moment, but the air was thick with it.