24
Latch (sped up + reverb vocals) - Sam Smit h
A s we finish dinner, the waitress brings the bill. I reach for my wallet, ready to split it because, hey, it’s the twenty-first century. But before I can hand him the cash, his voice stops me.
“Amelia,” he says, shaking his head firmly and dropping his card on the tray. Well, okay, then. I tuck my wallet back into my bag.
Bradley stands up, and I quickly follow. The waitress returns with his card and a polite smile. He places a hand on my back, guiding me out of the diner. His touch sends a shiver down my spine, and I feel giddy as we step into the cool night air. As we walk along the footpath, he gently taps my shoulder, pulling me to his left, away from the road. My heart skips a beat.
Bradley Mitchell knows the sidewalk rule?
We reach his car, and he moves to open my door. I stop and turn to face him.
“Bradley?” I say softly.
He makes a soft hm sound. I step closer and give him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. For dinner.”
Bradley’s eyes darken, a smirk forming on his lips .
“You call that a kiss?” he says, voice low and gravelly.
Before I can respond, he gently cradles my face in his hands, his touch tender yet firm. His lips meet mine in a kiss that ignites a fire within me, a passion I never knew existed. The world blurs as his tongue gently teases my lips, asking for entrance.
I melt into him, trying not to think about how this feels like one of my daydreams. My hands slide up to his chest, feeling his heartbeat thumping under my fingers. He guides me backward until my back presses against the side of the passenger seat. A deep, rumbling sound vibrates from his chest, sending shivers down my spine and eliciting a soft, completely involuntary whimper from me. His touch is electric, like a live wire, sparking a fierce desire that zips through my body. And then, way too soon, he breaks the kiss, leaving me breathless and a bit dizzy.
“We’re in a public car park,” I whisper, my voice shaky.
He grins that infuriatingly charming grin. “And?”
I try to steady myself, glancing around at our surroundings. “And... people can see us!”
He must sense my apprehension because he turns to look around. About two metres away, an older couple strolls by, their eyes glued to us.
My face flushes, and I wish the ground would swallow me whole.
He turns back to me, his expression softening. “Hey, don’t feel embarrassed. If I wanna kiss you in an open car park, I’m gonna do just that. I don’t give a fuck what people think, and you shouldn’t either. Understood? ”
I nod quickly, biting my lip to stop the words Yes, sir from escaping.
“Good girl. Come.”
With swift movements, he lifts me up and gently places me on the seat, closing the door behind me. I watch as he rounds the car to the driver’s side, his actions deliberate and confident. Just as we settle into the car, my phone rings. Fishing it out of my bag, I see it’s my mum calling.
Panic grips me.
Why is she calling now?
Bradley notices my wide eyes. “Everything okay?”
“Sorry, it’s my mum,” I say, glancing at Bradley. “Should I step outside to take this?”
He raises an eyebrow, shaking his head. “Amelia, stay in the car and answer it.”
I fumble to answer the call. “Hi, Mum!”
Her familiar voice brings instant comfort. “Hi, darling. Is this a bad time?”
“Uh, sort of.” I glance at Bradley, who just gives me a pointed look. “But it’s fine. What’s up?”
“Meli, I have such exciting news!” Her voice brims with excitement. I blush, praying Bradley didn’t catch the nickname.
“What news?” I ask, trying to match her enthusiasm.
“Kathryn is coming up from Sydney with little Millie and John!” Her announcement sends a thrill through me.
“When? Why didn’t she tell me? ”
“Friday afternoon, for the weekend!” Her joy is contagious. “I just spoke to her. She’ll probably call you soon.”
A squeal escapes me, and I glance at Bradley, who’s clearly amused. I clear my throat. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“What are you up to?” Mum asks. I wince. How do I explain this?
“Just had dinner,” I say casually.
“With who?”
“Uh, just a—” I start, but Bradley interrupts, taking the phone from my hand. My eyes widen in shock. What are you doing? I mouth to him, and he just holds up his hand with a wink.
“Hi, Mrs. Brown.” His voice is calm and collected.
“Bradley? Is that you?” She sounds surprised.
“Yes, ma’am. Hope you’re doing well.” He smirks at me, clearly enjoying this.
“What are you doing with my Meli?” she asks, and I slump in defeat.
“She wanted chicken parmi, so I took her to get some,” he says smoothly.
“Oh, how sweet. Is Liv there, too?” she asks, and I snatch the phone back.
“Uh, yeah, she’s just in the bathroom,” I lie quickly.
“You’re such a good big brother,” Mum says, and I can almost hear her smile.
“Mhm, yep,” I mumble, trying to keep my cool. “How did you know it was Bradley?”
“He’s the only one who calls me Mrs. Brown. I’ve told him to call me Sophie a million times,” she laughs.
“I’m just trying to be polite,” Bradley says, leaning closer, his shoulder brushing mine. His breath is warm on my face, sending chills down my spine.
“Alright, Mum, gotta go. Talk soon. Bye!” I hang up quickly, my heart racing from the unexpected turn of events.
“Why did you do that?” I ask, half-exasperated, half-amused.
“What? I just said hi,” he says, raising his hands in mock innocence.
I roll my eyes. “You know exactly what I mean.”
He grins. “Just being polite.”
“Polite? More like nosy,” I tease, nudging him with my elbow.
He chuckles. “Okay, maybe a bit nosy.”
“You tryna score brownie points with my mum?”
He laughs. “Nah, she already adores me.”
I want to argue, but he’s right. Mum’s always liked Bradley, ever since we introduced the Mitchells to our family. She’s always said he’d turn out to be a fine man. My skin tingles with heat, and I shift in my seat, the corners of my mouth twitching upward.
“So, Meli, huh?” he asks, smirking.
“It’s just a nickname,” I mumble, feeling shy. “My niece couldn’t say Amelia when she was learning to talk, and it stuck.”
“I like it. It’s cute,” he says, his tone low and teasing.
He starts the car, and we pull out of the parking lot. The drive is quiet, the tension between us palpable. I steal glances at him, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the dashboard lights. I can’t help but feel a pang of longing. It’s so easy to be around him, to lose myself in his presence. I didn’t ramble too much tonight, so that’s a win.
Maybe he doesn’t think I’m a complete mess after all. The song “Stick Season” by Noah Kahan plays on the radio, and I can’t help but smile.
“Oo, I love this song,” I say, moving to put the volume up a little louder. At the same time, he moves to do the same thing, and our hands brush. It sends a jolt through me, but not the usual spark of electricity.
“Fuck, your hands are freezing,” he says, turning on the heating in the car. He grabs my hand and places it in his lap, trapping mine with his.
“You should have told me you were cold,” he says so casually, holding my hand in his warm grasp. I sit there stunned for a moment, feeling the warmth of his hand seep into mine.
“I, uh, I didn’t realise,” I stammer, trying to regain my composure.
It’s such a simple gesture, yet it ignites a whirlwind of emotions within me. My heartbeat quickens, my breath catching in my throat, but he remains focused on the road ahead, seemingly unaffected by the intimacy of our touch. I wonder if he feels it, too; this electric current that seems to crackle between us whenever we’re close. I feel a sense of peace settle over me, a feeling of being right where I’m supposed to be. But all too soon, we arrive at my apartment, and he pulls into the driveway. He turns off the engine and looks at me, his gaze intense .
“Home sweet home,” he says softly, his hand still holding mine. Home .
I wonder what that would feel like with him. To come home to him every day, to share my life with him. The thought stirs something deep inside. Reluctantly, I withdraw my hand, feeling a sudden chill in its absence.
“Thank you for tonight,” I murmur. “I had a really great time.” His smile is genuine, heart-stopping.
“I did, too,” he replies softly. “We should... maybe do this again sometime.”
I nod, unable to find the words to express what I’m feeling. After a few moments of silence, I reach for the door handle, whispering, “Thanks again.”
Just as I start to exit, his voice stops me. “Wait.”
Before I can speak, he leans in, his warm hand cradling my cheek, and places a quick, tentative kiss on my lips. It’s not as passionate as earlier, but it’s sweet and leaves me smiling. When we pull apart, I’m left breathless, my heart racing in the most pleasant way.
He leans back, his eyes locked on mine, and a small, satisfied smile plays on his lips.
“Goodnight, Meli ,” he whispers.
“Goodnight, Brad.”
I step out of the car, my legs feeling like jelly, as I watch him drive off—the memory of his kiss lingering on my lips.