I shrugged, trying to play it off. "Hey, don’t judge me! It’s a classic." My voice came out lighter than I expected, like I was trying too hard to sound unbothered, but I knew he could see right through me. He always could.
He looked over at me, a grin spreading across his face. "I’m just saying, you’re full of surprises. I didn’t peg you as a soft pop kind of girl." His eyes sparkled with amusement, and I felt my heart do a little flip. There was something in the way he teased me, like he enjoyed seeing me flustered. It wasn’t mean-spirited—it was playful, light—but there was something more beneath it that I couldn’t quite figure out.
I glanced out the window, hoping he wouldn’t notice how much my face was heating up. But I knew it was too late. When I turned back to him, I caught him watching me with that grin still playing at his lips. The way he looked at me, it was like he enjoyed seeing me like this, the way I’d blush at his every comment. It made me feel both embarrassed and… something else I couldn’t put my finger on.
"Stop it," I said, trying to sound more serious, but there was a laugh in my voice that betrayed me.
"Stop what?" he asked, feigning innocence as he leaned a little closer, his hand casually resting on the back of my seat. The car was warm with the sun streaming in through the windows, and everything outside felt like it was moving slower than usual.
"That!" I motioned toward his face, biting back a smile. "That grin. You know exactly what you’re doing."
He raised an eyebrow, looking more amused than ever. "Oh, do I?" His voice had softened, and there was this warmth in his tone that made my stomach flutter.
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just crossed my arms, trying to look unimpressed. But inside, my heart was racing. We had been friends for a while now, and moments like this—when the air between us felt charged with something I wasn’t ready to name—had been happening more often. Every time, it left me wondering if I was imagining things, if I was reading too much into the way his eyes lingered just a little longer, the way his hand brushed mine whenever he reached for something in the car.
He glanced at the road ahead for a second, his fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel, then turned back to me, his grin softening into something gentler. "You’re cute when you blush, you know that?"
My heart stopped for a moment. The teasing was gone from his voice now, and suddenly, the lightness in the air had shifted into something heavier, more real. I didn’t know how to respond, so I just looked down at my hands, a small smile tugging at my lips.
"Thanks," I mumbled, still feeling the warmth in my cheeks.
He chuckled softly, and I could feel his gaze on me even though I wasn’t looking at him. "I’m serious," he said, his voice quieter now. "I like that I can make you blush. It’s… sweet."
I finally gathered the courage to look at him, and what I saw in his eyes took my breath away. The teasing was gone, replaced with something sincere, something that made my heart race all over again. For the first time, I realized that maybe this wasn’t just friendly teasing. Maybe he felt it too—the unspoken tension that had been building between us.
He reached over, his hand brushing mine for a brief second before pulling back. "I didn’t mean to make you feel embarrassed about your music. I actually like it. It’s… unexpected, but in a good way."
I smiled, feeling my chest tighten with emotion. "You don’t have to lie just because you feel bad," I teased, but my voice was softer now, more vulnerable.
He laughed, shaking his head. "I’m not lying. I like that you’re full of surprises. Makes things interesting." His eyes met mine again, and for a moment, we were just sitting there, the sound of the music playing softly in the background, neither of us saying anything.
The silence between us felt charged, but not awkward. It was like we were both waiting for something, neither of us quite sure what to say next. I could feel the shift in our friendship happening, like we had stepped into something new, something more.
"You know," he said after a long pause, his voice soft, "I think I like a lot more than just your taste in music."
That simple sentence hung in the air, and suddenly, all the teasing and playful banter felt like a buildup to this moment. My heart was pounding, and I could barely bring myself to look at him, afraid of what I might see in his eyes—or maybe afraid of what he would see in mine.
But when I finally did, there was no mistaking it. He wasn’t teasing anymore. He was serious, and the way he was looking at me made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t the only one who had been feeling something more all along.
I smiled, unable to hide how much his words meant to me. "I think I like more than just your teasing."
For a moment, we just sat there, grinning at each other like idiots, the tension finally breaking into something lighter, but still filled with possibility. Whatever this was between us, it was no longer just playful banter. It was real, and it was something I wanted to explore—slowly, sweetly, one teasing comment at a time.
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