One Shots | Formula 1

DR♥

"Do we have a problem?"

The soft hum of my hairdryer echoes in the room as I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The anticipation of tonight's date lingers in the air, intermingled with a hint of confusion that has become the undercurrent of my relationship with Daniel. My fingers fumble with the strands of my hair, a nervous habit that betrays the calm exterior I'm trying to maintain.

Daniel and I have been toeing this invisible line between friendship and something more for months now. We do all the typical boyfriend-girlfriend things – late-night conversations that stretch into the early hours, inside jokes that only we understand, and the occasional shared glance that lingers a second too long. But, despite all these unmistakable signs, we've never officially defined our relationship. It's like we're dancing around the topic, enjoying the steps but never committing to the choreography.

As I sit at my vanity, staring at the reflection of the girl with tangled emotions, my mind wanders into the intricate maze that is my relationship with Daniel. We're in this strange gray area where we act like a couple, yet the conversation about labels remains untouched. It's complicated, to say the least, and sometimes I can't help but wonder if he feels the same way I do.

Tonight's date is a testament to the confusion that has become the backdrop of my romantic life. I'm getting ready for a night out with a guy who has been persistent in his pursuit, even though my heart feels tethered to Daniel. And here he is, not out of resentment or jealousy, but oddly enough, helping me prepare for the date.

"Hey, you sure you want to wear that dress?" Daniel's voice interrupts my thoughts, and I turn to find him leaning against the doorframe, a playful smirk on his face.

I glance down at the dress – a simple, yet flattering choice – and give him a half-smile. "Yeah, why? Is there something wrong with it?"

He raises an eyebrow, pretending to contemplate. "No, no. Just wondering if you're trying to impress someone in particular tonight."

A nervous laugh escapes my lips as I try to brush off his comment. "Just a date, Daniel. Nothing serious."

"Right, right," he says, feigning nonchalance. "But you know, if you ever need fashion advice or, you know, a date, I'm just a phone call away."

I shoot him a puzzled look, unsure of how to interpret his words. Is he just being his usual playful self, or is there a hidden meaning behind his offer? My confusion deepens as he starts adjusting my hair, his fingers grazing my skin in a way that sends a shiver down my spine.

"Thanks, Daniel," I manage to say, my voice slightly shaky. "I appreciate the help."

"Yeah, just call me if something goes wrong."

The restaurant buzzes with the low hum of conversation as I sit across from the guy I'm supposed to be on a date with. The evening started with promise—compliments, laughter, and a shared appreciation for quirky indie films. Yet, as the night unfolds, a chill seeps into the air, replacing the warmth that had initially enveloped us.

His tone shifts from friendly banter to condescending remarks, and his laughter transforms into a mocking sneer. I find myself squirming in my seat, regretting every moment that led me to this table. How did I end up here with someone so different from the person I thought he was?

I glance at my phone, contemplating an escape plan. A text to Daniel.

"Need a rescue mission!! ASAP"

A sigh of relief escapes my lips as I read his reply, "Omw, my damsel in distress."

Within minutes, Daniel appears like a knight in shining armor, his eyes sharp and confrontational as he assesses the situation. He slides into the seat beside me, a protective arm draped casually over my shoulder.