Delphine slammed her door shut behind her, locking it out of instinct.
Not that it would do anything against a twenty-foot-tall alien robot.
Her heart was still racing. She pressed her back against the door, squeezing her eyes shut, forcing herself to breathe. Slow. Steady. Calm.
But she wasn't calm.
Because he wasn't normal.
Because this feeling wasn't normal.
She could still feel his presence lingering outside. Not physically, but something deeper. Something that made her skin tingle and her stomach twist.
He'd said "Mine."
Not as a demand. Not as a question. As a fact.
And she had let him.
Delphine groaned, rubbing her hands over her face. "What the hell am I doing?"
This wasn't how her life was supposed to go.
She'd spent years keeping people at arm's length, making sure no one got too close. It was easier that way. Safer. But Bumblebee had torn through those defenses like they were nothing.
And the worst part?
He knew it.
The Next Morning
Delphine avoided her window.
She knew Bumblebee was out there.
Waiting. Watching.
Not in a predatory way—but in a way that made her stomach flip, like he was just waiting for her to admit something to herself that she wasn't ready to face.
She hated that he was patient. That he wasn't pushing her, wasn't forcing anything.
Because it would've been easier if he did.
Shaking off the thought, she grabbed her keys and headed outside. She had work at the auto shop, and no weird, possessive alien was going to mess with her routine.
The second she stepped off her porch, she felt it.
His gaze.
Slowly, her eyes flickered to the street.
The yellow Camaro was parked across from her house.
Motionless. Silent.
But watching.
Her pulse jumped.
Her fingers curled into fists, and she forced herself to ignore the way her skin burned under his unseen stare. Without a word, she climbed into her own car—a beat-up black '67 Camaro, nowhere near as sleek as his—and pulled out of the driveway.
Bumblebee's engine rumbled softly.
A quiet response.
She didn't look back.
At the Auto Shop
Delphine wiped the sweat from her brow, stretching out the tension in her shoulders.
The garage was quiet today, just the hum of machines and the occasional clang of metal on metal. Usually, this was her escape. A place where her mind could slow down, where she could focus on something tangible, something safe.
But even here, she felt him.
It was in the way her skin prickled, like she was being watched—even when she knew no one was there.
It was in the way her thoughts kept circling back to last night. To him.
To the way he'd looked at her.
Like she was his world.
She huffed, throwing her wrench down onto the workbench with more force than necessary.
"Rough day?"
Delphine glanced up to see Drew, one of the other mechanics, watching her with an amused smirk. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and the kind of guy most women at the shop swooned over.
She wasn't most women.
"Just tired," she muttered, wiping grease from her hands.
Drew leaned against the bench, arms crossed. "Well, if you ever need a break, I know a great place that makes killer burgers. My treat?"
Delphine blinked.
Wait. Was he—?
Oh.
He was flirting.
Before she could respond, a loud, earth-shaking rumble filled the shop.
The walls vibrated. Tools rattled.
Delphine stiffened.
She knew that sound.
Dread curled in her stomach as a familiar yellow Camaro pulled up outside the shop.
Oh, no.
Drew frowned, glancing at the car. "Damn. That thing is nice. Who's the owner?"
Delphine didn't answer.
Because she was too busy staring at the car that had just come to claim her.
The Camaro's engine revved—low, deliberate.
Possessive.
Drew smirked. "Think they'd let me take it for a test drive?"
Before Delphine could even think of an excuse, the Camaro's radio blared to life.
"No."
Drew froze. "What the hell?"
Delphine groaned. "Goddammit, Bee."
The car's door swung open—an invitation.
A demand.
Delphine exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. She could feel Drew staring at her, but she ignored him, stepping toward the Camaro.
The second she slid into the passenger seat, the door slammed shut.
The air inside was thick—charged.
She could feel it pulsing around her, in the way his vents exhaled softly, in the way his radio crackled with barely restrained energy.
He was not happy.
She sighed, slumping into the seat. "You're ridiculous."
The radio buzzed. A distorted voice—low, warning.
"Mine."
Delphine's stomach flipped.
She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. "We're gonna have to talk about that, Bee."
The engine purred.
Like he was agreeing.
Like he already knew.