❄ Camille ❄
Sebastian took me home. Not to his house. Not to the guest room. Not to the couch. Home. My apartment. My building. My door. The drive from Oak Steakhouse was quiet in a way that didn’t feel awkward anymore. The heater hummed. Streetlights slid past in soft yellow streaks. Sebastian’s hand stayed steady on the wheel, his posture calm, like dinner hadn’t shifted something between us. I wanted him to pull into his driveway anyway. I wanted him to say, come inside, like it was natural. Like we were past all the careful distance. Instead, he turned into my lot and parked. He shut the engine off and sat there for a moment, hands still on the wheel. The silence stretched. I waited, half expecting him to look at me and change his mind.
He didn’t.
“You are home,” he murmured. I for
