As Victor continues to drive along the busy road, I get to thinking as we reach a comfortable silence.

"Who are you?" I blurt out, facing his sharp profile as he focuses intently on the road.

He does not flinch the slightest bit, but I can see confusion gradually spread across his features. "What do you mean by that?" He asks, limpid in his tone. I try to find a bit of shakiness in his response but there is none. Nothing but authenticity.

"How did I end up being so comfortable around you? You're technically still a stranger to me," I press, glancing at him as he focuses on driving.

"Are you thinking out loud or is that an actual question?" He smirks.

"I'm serious. I don't know much about you. All I know is that you make me laugh and that you can't cook for shit," I conclude as I reference when we were video chatting yesterday and he tried to make himself pasta as a means of impressing me, only to have the marinara sauce burn onto the pan.

He simply chuckles at the statement, possibly recalling the same memory.

"Touché. Well then, ask away," he replies coolly.

I'm kind of taken aback by his sudden openness, but I decide to blurt the first thing that comes to mind.

"Are you a drug dealer?" My curiosity gets the best of me. Did I really just ask him that? Mentally, I facepalm myself.

"Yes," He answers undisturbed by my accusation as he changes his grip on the steering wheel by having his left hand take control, while his right arm lies comfortably on the center armrest. I can feel my eyebrows progressively rise in caution as I continue to stare in his direction, apparently circumspect about this current revelation.

"I'm just kidding, Julian. You really are an open book." He lets out a deep chuckle, which kind of catches me off guard. His usual calm and collected persona, not evident.

Well, it hasn't been evident in most of the time we've been together.

"That's not funny. My fat ass was about to jump out the window," I expel after I realize I was holding my breath for that brief moment. I glower at him as he continues to face the road with that cheesy smirk of his.

"First of all, you're not fat and second of all, I'm curious as to how that would have worked out?" He asks sarcastically. I can't help but smile and appreciate how his dimples show themselves.

"Whatever. You're so childish," I reply and turn back facing the busy road ahead of us. "How old are you anyway? Mr. I wear suits to University."

"24."

I would be lying if I said I wasn't caught off guard a bit, but what did I expect. Despite his youthful character, he does have a mature aura about him.

My body tenses up as I try to put the pieces together, doing what I do best: overthink.

"Wait... that would mean you already graduated?"

"Yes, with my masters." He says proudly, turning his head towards me. So, what was he doing at my school?

"I'm 17," I state bitterly as if that were supposed to trigger something.

"Jules, are you okay?" He invokes gently as he briefly glances at me while keeping his eyes on the road.

I can not say anything. It is as if my mouth is glued shut.

"Jules, is this about my age?" He motions for my arm but I involuntarily yank it away from his grasp. I don't feel like I'm in danger but I feel generally uncomfortable. Age is nothing but a number. Right? We are just acquaintances doing nothing wrong. I'm almost an adult anyways.

I stare at the road before me. He seemingly understands my rapid motion and backs off. Luckily, before he can say anything, the red light at the four-way intersection flashes green and we are off to wherever he meant for us to go. Terrible thoughts momentarily pass through my mind but I stay silent.

"S-So, what do you do at USO?" I ask tentatively, afraid to trigger him in some sort of way.

"You don't have to be shy. I'm serving as a representative for the company I work for. We're investing money into USO so I'm acting as a messenger of some sort, to check things out. Making sure our investments are worth it," he explains smoothly, being completely transparent about why he is often at my school.

"Oh," I relax a bit, "that makes sense," I conclude. My skepticism is partially put to rest, considering the fact that USO is well-renown for its undergraduate, graduate, and research studies. I can understand why they would need investors.

I have more questions, but I can't find the courage to disrupt the mood so I bite my tongue. I don't want to embarrass myself further.

The melodic sound of the engine plays on in the background as he proceeds to apply pressure to the gas pedal. We both sit in awkward silence. He finally makes a right into a plaza with a huge department store and miniature shops surrounding it.

What catches my eye is the large sign that reads: Chick-Fil-A.

Chick-Fil-A, a fast-food restaurant known for its delicious chicken sandwiches, is my favorite. My mood lightens slightly at the thought of food.

He steers the vehicle into an empty parking spot. Once he puts the gear into park, he presses the button to shut off the car. The silence lingers briefly before Victor speaks up.

"Jules, I understand if you feel completely uncomfortable with my age," He conveys in a low voice. He unbuckles his seatbelt allowing for an increased range of motion as he shifts his body in my direction. My body remains forward and my head hangs low as I fidget with my fingers anxiously. The already peeling teal nail polish soothes me for a moment as I pick at it.

I don't say a thing.

He lets out an exasperated sigh as he proceeds to buckle up and turn on the car again. "I'll just bring you back to campus so yo-"

"No." I express a little too loud for the mood. "I mean, I-I have never had someone be interested in me before so this is all new to me. I didn't mean to make you feel a certain way," I breath out all in one go.

You said you would try this, Jules. You can't do better than this.

Victor's face softens as he looks into my direction. His lips harden into a straight line as he spares me a look of understanding.

"Stop being sorry, Jules. You are perfectly fine. Now let's go eat because I'm starving," He says, proceeding to turn off the vehicle by clicking the button again. Both of the doors rising.

It is embarrassing to say that my heart twitches at the comfort he exudes with his presence. My discomfort fades away as he finds a way to relax my nerves.

"Well, I guess we have something in common. I love Chick-Fil-A," I admit in a smaller tone.

_______

"This isn't it," Victor says, disgust written all over his face as he picks at the floppy bun sitting atop the chicken sandwich. 

I stifle a laugh as I finish chewing on my own chicken sandwich, "Come on, this is my type of high-class dining."

He gives me a quizzical stare, "Really?"

"Yes, really," I proudly defend, "This is the food of my childhood." His expression is unchanging, "Try the fries at least."

Victor complacently places the bun down and heads for the fries. I watch his every move in amusement. No one can possibly deny waffle fries.

Once he bites into the ketchup-covered fried food, his face softens a bit. That's all the satisfaction I need.

"I told you," I mockingly state, stuffing more food into my mouth.

"You didn't tell me anything," He combats, while gradually beginning to go ham on the large container of fries before him.

"You can't deny greatness, "I exaggerate. He responds by snickering at me with his mouth full. He looks adorable. A smile does him really well.

I wipe at my mouth with the brown napkin, taking a look out the window of the fast-food restaurant.

"Why'd you bring me here if you don't like the food," I chuckle, looking back at him across me.

"You're the one who told me that this was your favorite place to eat when I contemplated take-out after I sort of burned the marinara sauce," he evokes as he goes to wipe the sides of his mouth with a napkin.

"It's not 'sort of'', you did burn that sauce," I nag before shaking my head at him.

He simply stuffs more fries into his mouth.

"By the way, this doesn't count," He utters mid-chew before swallowing the whole of the food in his mouth. This directs my attention back to him.

I stare at him questioningly, "What doesn't count?"

"This doesn't count as our first date," he clarifies, pointing at the food on the table.

"I mean, this seems like the perfect first date to me," I suggest, challenging his claim by placing my crossed arms on the table.

He sits up smirking as if challenging me, "No, I wanna treat you to the best. I want to spoil you."

"Is this some sugardaddy proposition?" I joke before thinking. Per usual.

He chuckles as he takes a casual sip of his soft drink.

"Victor, money can buy Chick-Fil-A so I'm perfectly fine. This is more than impressive. It's enough," I finish off seriously. This is perfectly adequate for me. Why doesn't he see it that way?

He seems to be taken aback, astonished more so. Did I say something wrong?

"What's wrong?" I question, starting to panic, "Did I say something wrong?"

He chuckles, "No, no, Jules. You're... you're perfectly fine," he nods, giving me a wide, reassuring smile.

________<€>________

Hey guys, I am really excited to start this new story. Let me know what you think so far by commenting and voting!!😊

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What are your thoughts on how close Victor and Jules have gotten within this short period of time?