The silence in the car after our encounter with George was suffocating. It pressed down on me, heavy and unwelcome, mirroring the knot of dread twisting in my gut. I didn't even know why I was so anxious when there was truly nothing going on between George and me.
More than anything, it was Alexander's silence that unnerved me. He gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white, jaw clenched tight. Every muscle in his body seemed coiled with tension, and I could practically feel the storm brewing behind his icy blue eyes.
Unable to bear the silence any longer, I blurted out, "Can't we just…talk about something else?"
He shot me a sidelong glance, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I thought he wouldn't respond, but then, with a sigh that seemed to shake the tension from his broad shoulders, he spoke.
"Alright," he said, his voice low and rough. He pulled into a parking spot along the deserted street, the engine falling silent.