Chapter Four: Black Lamborghini (part 1) - Fiction Fantasy

(after the night we stopped pretending...)

The next morning should have felt awkward.

Instead, it felt... peaceful.

We ordered coffee.

Laughed about how neither of us had slept much.

Talked about everything except what had happened between us.

Maybe because we both knew.

Neither of us needed to say it out loud.

As I packed my overnight bag, he stood by the window with his hands in his pockets.

"So..." he said.

"So..."

"I don't really want this to be the last time."

I smiled.

"I know."

"What if we disappear again this weekend?"

I looked down at my shoes.

A week earlier, I would've said yes before he finished the sentence.

Now...

Now something had changed.

"It can't."

He frowned.

"Why not?"

"Because I know how this story ends if we keep pretending."

He didn't answer.

"I care about you."

"I know."

"I also care about myself."

Silence.

"You still have a life to untangle."

He nodded slowly.

"I do."

"And until you do..."

I walked over and kissed his cheek.

"...there isn't another round."

His disappointed smile made me laugh.

"So that's it?"

"That's it."

He sighed dramatically.

"You're killing me."

"No."

I picked up my bag.

"I'm saving both of us."

—

Over the next few days, he texted a few times.

Nothing dramatic.

Just enough to let me know he was thinking about me.

Then, one afternoon, my phone buzzed.

"Come by the shop after work."

I stared at the message.

Old Me would've already been halfway there.

Instead, I replied.

"No."

Three dots appeared.

"Why?"

Because I finally understood the difference between being wanted...

...and being chosen.

I typed.

"Because I know this is wrong."

A few moments passed.

Then another message appeared.

"I just want to see you."

I smiled sadly.

"I know."

"Please."

"No."

"We both know better."

This time...

No typing bubble appeared.

For once, silence felt like progress.

—

Life has a funny sense of humor.

Just when I thought the universe had finally closed that chapter...

It handed me another page.

A month later, I volunteered at one of Boston's biggest exotic car events.

Naturally.

If there were loud engines, beautiful paint, and people arguing about horsepower, there was a good chance I'd somehow end up in the middle of it.

My assignment was registration.

Simple enough.

Check names.

Hand out credentials.

Direct drivers where to park.

Smile.

Repeat.

The morning air buzzed with excitement.

Ferraris rolled in one after another.

McLarens.

Porsches.

Classic muscle cars.

Modified imports.

Even a few hypercars that made everyone stop what they were doing just to watch them crawl through the gate.

I loved every second of it.

By lunchtime, I'd already taken enough pictures to make my camera roll look like a dealership brochure.

A volunteer beside me nudged my shoulder.

"Looks like we've got another Lamborghini coming."

I glanced toward the entrance.

Black.

Low.

Aggressive.

The unmistakable silhouette appeared long before I could make out the driver.

My stomach betrayed me before my brain had a chance to catch up.

No...

Surely not.

The engine growled as it rolled closer.

The volunteers around me started smiling.

Someone whistled.

Another person reached for their phone to record it.

The Lamborghini glided toward my registration table.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

My heart pounded against my ribs.

The driver's window began to lower.

And before I could decide whether to laugh, run, or pretend I didn't know him...

I recognized the smile.

The same smile that had started this entire mess.

Only this time...

He had come looking for me.