The Static Between Us

The leather feels cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the flush creeping up my neck. He’s late. Of course he's late. My fingers trace the seam of my trousers, a nervous habit I thought I’d broken months ago.
Each passing car headlight flares across his empty seat – phantom touches on vinyl. Foolish. It's just him. Right? Just a man who makes my pulse stutter like a faulty engine.
I shouldn’t have agreed to this. Shouldn’t have let the silence between us stretch so taut, it threatened to snap something fragile inside me. I needed space, he said. Space to… what? Re-evaluate our carefully constructed detachment?
The car door opens, and the air thickens, charged with his scent – sandalwood and something else, a wildness that doesn’t belong in this city. He slides in, avoiding my gaze.
My breath hitches. A single bead of sweat trickles down my spine. I hate how easily he does this to me. How one glance can unravel all my composure.
He's here now, close enough to touch. The space between us shrinks until there is nothing left but the rapid thrumming of a heartbeat that isn’t my own.

Editor: Heartbeat Monitor