Sliding into the passenger seat, I’m greeted with the scent of leather and spice, with a hint of tobacco, that I’ve come to associate with Stone. It’s calming and arousing in equal parts.

“Hey, teach.”

He glances over at me, a handsome smile that makes his dark eyes sparkle, sliding onto his face. He looks tired, like maybe he really hasn’t been getting sleep. I wonder what’s going on with him. I can’t imagine his lack of sleep is only because he’s thinking of me. “Hey, Cash. I hope this is okay. Seeing you sounded like just what I need... But I shouldn’t even be here.”

He looks away, and I can tell he’s really struggling with whatever he’s feeling and this situation. It’s written all over his face.

“It’s okay,” I assure him. “So, what are we going to do?”

“There’s a place I want to show you. It’s only about a twenty-minute drive.”

“Okay, let’s go, teach.”

What You Do by James Gillespie is playing through the car speakers, volume low. The energy in the car feels super charged. There are hardly any cars on the road, even less when he takes the on-ramp toward the highway. He has the heat on, but with the windows rolled down a few inches. The cool breeze mixed with the warm air feels good.

After almost exactly twenty minutes later, we pull up to an open field. It’s huge—in the dark, I can’t even tell where it ends—but the grass is maintained, so it must not be abandoned. He puts the car in park, unbuckling his seat belt but not making any move to get out.

“You take me here to kill me?” I laugh, unbuckling myself and turning my body toward him.

He chuckles. The deep, hearty sound wrapping around me like a vine to a tree, making my heart thump harder in my chest. Goosebumps rise all over my skin, either from the sound or the cool night air blowing through the open window. Maybe both.

“Definitely not killing you. Don’t worry. I apparently cross several ethical boundaries with you, but murder is not on the list.” He grins, grabbing his phone and changing the song.

The Band Camino’s The Black and White plays quietly. The gentle voice and soft melody fill the car, making the need to reach for him, touch him, almost unbearable. I want to ask him what this place is to him, but I don’t want to ruin whatever this is. This moment… it’s unlike any other time I’ve spent with him. His mood, his energy, feels different. There’s an air of vulnerability to him right now, and I don’t want to spook him by asking too much.

“This song is beautiful,” I finally manage.