We didn't speak as we drove into the city.
We sat side by side, yet there was an invisible distance between us—
the kind that would burn if touched.
When we stopped, he opened the door for me.
He didn't reach for my hand.
But he waited.
I stepped out.
He stood close. Too close.
"It'll be crowded," he said.
His voice was calm, but I felt the tension beneath it.
"I know," I replied.
Inside, everyone looked at us.
Not because of me—
because of the man beside me.
For a moment, he placed his arm lightly against my back.
Gentle.
Not possessive… protective.
My heart sped up.
I noticed my breathing change.
He felt it.
I was sure of it.
He leaned in.
His voice was low, careful, right beside my ear.
"Don't look at me like that," he said.
"What happens if I do?" I whispered.
He paused.
His breath brushed my skin.
"I lose control," he admitted.
I didn't pull away.
But I didn't move closer either.
"Don't lose it," I said softly.
"Just… feel it."
He straightened.
His eyes had darkened.
There was a battle on his face.
"Don't do this," he said—
to himself, not to me.
He took a step back.
The heat between us remained.
My body was still warm.
My heart still racing.
But he stopped.
We both did.
And in that moment, I realized—
Restraint was more dangerous than closeness.