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Word prompt: Flimsy

Plot generator—Phrase Catch: "If I could only"

Not beta'd.

Ten minutes into the ride, I feel something tap my shoulder. Although his eyes are on the road, his iPhone is extended towards me. It's a peace offering, at least I take it as such, and quietly thank him before powering it up.

The song on the screen is an instrumental from a movie score, but not one I'm familiar with.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I don't know this piece."

"Play it." He hands me the external audio cord, and changes the stereo's settings while I plug it in.

The music starts, and it's all around me, thanks to the car's impressive sound system. I close my eyes and let the orchestra sweep me away. By the end of the arrangement, I've grasped its unspoken message. He's sorry, even if he can't say the words, and he's still angry with himself about it. Some might say it's a flimsy excuse for an apology, but I disagree. I think it's kind of beautiful. Music is important to both of us, and it can often express the thoughts we have trouble voicing. The selection was not random. It was waiting for me when I started up his phone, proving that he thought about our disagreement while we were apart. It shows he's remorseful, and that's enough for me.

"That one counts as your rain check."

His whole face relaxes. "I figured as much."

"For the record, you're welcome to have your own opinions. The ones about me don't even have to be flattering. Just don't shove them down my throat."

"I can't promise I won't make the same mistake again," he tells me, "But I swear I'll try to do better."

He's staring again. His earnest, compelling gaze seizes me, and I can't look away. I don't understand what it means, or why he does it. Because he's driving, he can't hold me captive for more than few moments, and I try to recover once his eyes move back to the road. My heart is pounding; my palms are sweaty, and my brain will not engage.

He must find the quiet encompassing us uncomfortable. He only lets it go on for a couple of minutes before asking me to choose some music. I come across an older song that suits my mood. The darkness of the lyrics combines with the bass line in an infectious way to convey the singer's anger.

As I search for a second choice, I accidentally back out of his music folder and end up on the home screen. His background is a candid photo of him with his arms around a beautiful, blond woman. Her face is partially hidden beneath the icons, so I can't see her clearly, but their smiles are bright and happy. Suddenly, his reason for refusing to have dinner with me is clear. What isn't so obvious is his reason for not mentioning her. It also makes his intensity around me even more confounding.

To give myself time to think, I put on the first album I can find, and lay his phone on the centre console. Disappointment is natural, understandable even. The rest of what I'm feeling—the confusion, and the depth of emotion—is more than I can manage without losing control. Tears are the last thing I want to explain right now. I go back to looking out the window, willing myself to calm down.

Masen seems to have picked up on the change in me, and it's made him jittery. His hands fidget on the gearshift and steering wheel, drawing my attention to his manual downshift. I didn't realize his car wasn't automatic. In fact, I can't recall seeing him shift a single time earlier. I ask him about it, making a conscious effort to focus on something besides the fact that he's not single.

"Is this car magic?"

"Magic?" he asks.

"I don't remember you manually shifting at all this morning."

"This car has a manumatic transmission, which is a combination of automatic and manual. I only have to shift if I want to. And I don't have to use the gearshift. There's a paddle on the steering wheel that I can use."

That explains why I never noticed him doing it.

"What's the point of having both?"

"It's a common feature in high-end sports cars. It increases driver control."

"Oh."

We pull up in front of my building, and he cuts the engine. With a sheepish look, he adds, "I used to drive a Porsche. I got accustomed to being able to shift at will, and liked the control. It's one of the reasons I chose this model."

"I would have looked better in the Porsche," I say with a smile.

We part with a chuckle, and I wave as he drives off. My phone buzzes just after I open the apartment door. It's a text from Masen.

"Today was good. Today was fun. Tomorrow is another one."

Auburn-haired upperclassmen with silver cars and killer smiles are definitely dangerous. Those who quote Dr. Seuss and are doctors themselves are the most dangerous of all.

"Today was good. Today was fun. Tomorrow is another one." ~Dr. Seuss.

A/N: The instrumental from a movie score that I referred to was imaginary, the idea being that it would be similar to something Edward would have composed to express himself in Twilight. The second song I referred to Harder to Breathe by Maroon 5.

Apologies to all who are waiting for review replies. I've been writing like mad trying to meet a deadline for the Fandom4TwiFanG compilation. I'm hoping to finish tonight but am still looking for a beta for the piece if anyone is interested.

Thanks to everyone who is supporting the story.

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