Delphine's breath hitched as Bumblebee's seatbelt tightened around her waist—not restraining, not forcing—just holding.
Like he wanted to remind her.
Of what, she wasn't sure.
Her fingers curled into the fabric of her jeans, knuckles white. "You don't fight fair, you know that?"
His radio flickered, a soft, low hum thrumming through the speakers.
"No fight. Just truth."
Her heart pounded in her chest, an uneven rhythm she couldn't control. She wanted to push back, to fight against the weight of his presence, but every time she opened her mouth, she hesitated.
Because if she spoke, if she denied it—
She'd be lying.
Bumblebee had waited for her. Watched her. Chosen her.
And deep down, she had felt it too.
A connection she hadn't understood. A pull she had ignored.
Until now.
Her throat tightened. "Bee…"
His engine rumbled, slow and deliberate, a sound she was starting to recognize as patience. He wasn't forcing her. He wasn't demanding.
He was just waiting.
Like he already knew she would give in.
And that made her want to run more than anything.
Delphine let out a sharp breath, forcing her thoughts back into order. "Okay. Fine. You feel… something. But that doesn't mean we just—"
The seatbelt loosened.
Not completely. Not enough to free her. Just enough to give.
A silent test.
A question.
Would she stay?
Her fingers twitched. Every part of her screamed that this was dangerous, that she was playing with something she didn't understand.
But hadn't she always been drawn to danger?
Her whole life had been a series of fights, of pushing back, of running. But for the first time, something was pushing back at her.
And instead of breaking, it held.
Her breath shook as she pressed her hands against the dashboard, grounding herself. "You're not gonna stop, are you?"
His engine thrummed—a quiet, steady no.
A shiver ran down her spine.
Because she believed him.
Because he meant it.
She should have been angry. She should have shoved open the door and left.
But she didn't.
Instead, she pressed her palm against the dashboard. Just once. Just barely.
A test.
A risk.
His vents exhaled, and his radio crackled—soft static before settling into a sound she didn't recognize.
Not words. Not music.
Just a sound.
A feeling.
And it settled into her bones like it had always been there.
Like he had always been there.
Her chest tightened, and she swallowed hard, pulling her hand back. "This is insane," she muttered.
Bumblebee didn't argue.
Because he already knew.
And that terrified her more than anything.
Later That Night
Delphine barely slept.
She tossed and turned, her mind tangled in thoughts she didn't want to have, in feelings she didn't want to name.
Bumblebee had given her space after the conversation in the car—but she still felt him.
That unshakable presence. The silent weight of him just… there.
She had tried to ignore it. Tried to tell herself it was all in her head.
Until she woke up at 2 a.m. to the soft, unmistakable sound of an engine idling outside her window.
Her stomach flipped.
Slowly, she rolled out of bed, padding across the floor toward the window. She hesitated before pushing the curtain aside.
And there he was.
Parked across the street.
Waiting.
Watching.
A shiver crawled down her spine—not in fear. Never fear.
Something else.
Something deeper.
Something she didn't want to name.
Her fingers clenched around the curtain. "You don't sleep either, huh?" she whispered, even though he couldn't hear her.
Or maybe he could.
She stared at him for a long moment, heart hammering. He didn't move, didn't flash his headlights or rev his engine. He just existed.
And yet—
She still felt like she was being held.
Her lips parted, but no words came. She exhaled slowly, pressing her forehead against the cool glass.
"This is insane," she muttered again.
Still, she didn't close the curtain.
And still, she didn't look away.
The Next Morning
Delphine stepped outside, pulling her jacket tighter against the early morning chill.
She barely got two steps off the porch before the yellow Camaro pulled up alongside her.
Her stomach twisted. "You're unbelievable."
His radio crackled. "Morning."
She rolled her eyes, shoving her hands into her pockets. "What, you my chauffeur now?"
A hum. Then—"If you want."
She huffed. Damn him.
Shaking her head, she walked toward her own car—a beat-up '67 Camaro that suddenly looked less impressive next to him. But before she could climb inside, Bumblebee revved his engine.
She froze.
The sound wasn't loud, wasn't aggressive.
It was pointed.
She turned, brow arching. "Seriously?"
Silence.
Just the slow, steady hum of his engine.
Waiting.
A challenge.
Her fingers tightened around her keys. She could ignore him. She could get in her car and drive to work and pretend none of this was happening.
But the second she looked at him, she knew—
He'd follow.
Whether she liked it or not.
She exhaled sharply. "You're really not gonna back off, huh?"
The dashboard flickered. The door clicked open.
An invitation.
A demand.
Her pulse jumped.
Delphine stood there for a long moment, her heart hammering.
Then, slowly—without quite knowing why—
She slid into the passenger seat.
The door closed behind her, locking her in.
Bumblebee's radio flickered, shifting through static before settling on something soft. Certain. Unshakable.
"Good girl."
Delphine's breath caught.
Heat shot through her, sharp and sudden.
Her fingers clenched against her lap, but she said nothing.
Because what was there to say?
She had made her choice.
Or maybe—her choice had already been made.
And the worst part?
She wasn't sure she wanted to fight it anymore.