He sits beside me, all six feet of him. His gaze is held forward as he attempts to stitch his wound. Carefully, he’ll try thread it through, wince, sigh, and repeat.

“Do you want help?” I ask, watching him fail to stick himself.

He leans his head into the headrest, eyes closed.

“Please,” he says softly.

I take the needle and gently turn his face toward me. His chestnut eyes focus on mine. Very gently and carefully, I stick the needle and start to tend the wound. He pulls a sharp breath and reaches for my wrist.

“It’s okay, just breathe,” I say. He looks at me with a sense of urgency for comfort. I feel his eyes working through my soul as I close the wound.

He opens his mouth but no words come out.

“Almost done,” I say. I try to be as careful as I can as I try the knot. “Done!”

He smiles and says, “You bite your lip when you’re focusing, you know that?”

My cheeks redden as his eyes fill with emotions I’m scared of.

“Uh, no. I didn’t,” I say, “We should probably get going though, it’s practically midnight.”

He blinks and nods anxiously, then turns the car back on. But he doesn’t drive.

I turn back toward him as he drags his finger across his cheek, feeling the stitches.

“What’s wrong? Does it sting?” I ask, pulling his face to check it.

“No, uh…. It’s fine,” He says.

I see his cheeks blush as he tilts his head down toward mine. My hand is still cupping his cheek, the other on his shoulder.

“Bea.” His voice is soft, so so soft.

“Tyler,” I say.

He leans in closer, our foreheads touching. His hand cups my cheek, stroking with his thumb.

“I think I love you,” he says. His voice is barely a whisper, but I catch it.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” I answer, pulling back.

Tyler shakes his hand, wiping his palms on his knees. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Everything is just as it is meant to be, we shouldn’t change anything.”

I just nod in silence.