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Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Fem!Reader
Summary: Arne, in hopes to focus on his teamâs mental health as much as their physical, recruits a younger but just as educated psychologist to work one-to-one with the more reserved players. Trent is one of them.
A/N: 700 followers is insaneeee and sm more than i acc thought id ever get so thank you so much! f1 and/or football fans, i love u all so much ugh ALSO if ur wondering why this chapter is longer than my lifespan itâs bcos u guys deserve it for being so patient and accept it as my dearest apology xxx
Warnings: a lot of fluff actually, casual banter, a lot of coffee mentions for some fkn reason lmfao, swearing probably
Word Count: 4.9k words (18 mins reading avg)
You push open the door to the training pitch, the cool breeze brushing against your face as you step outside, searching for Wataru.
The headache thatâs been plaguing you all morning tightens its grip, and the fresh scent of the grass seems almost too intense. You rub your forehead, trying to ease the tension while scanning the field.
Across the pitch, Trent catches your eye, his movements fluid and graceful as he makes a pass. The ball connects with his boot in a way thatâs almost poetic, the sound sharp and precise.
What usually feels like music to your ears now drives another spike of pain through your already throbbing head. You wince, pressing your fingers more firmly against your temples.
Finally, you spot Wataru near the edge of the pitch, zipping up his jacket while observing the players. As you approach, he looks up, concern immediately crossing his face as he takes in your weary appearance.
âMorning, Y/N,â he greets, his voice laced with worry. âRough start?â
You manage a tired smile that feels more like a grimace. âYeah, not the best morning. Overslept, skipped breakfast, and now this headache wonât quit.â
Wataru nods, his concern deepening. âYou shouldnât push yourself too hard. We can cancel if you need.â
Leaning against the wall beside him, you try to relieve some of the pressure on your aching body. âThanks, but Iâll be alright. Just.. not exactly firing on all cylinders this morning.â
A quiet settles over you as you both watch the players go through their drills.
Trent sends a perfect cross into the box, and you canât help but remark, âat least someoneâs got their energy today.â
The usual lively atmosphere - the rhythmic thud of the ball, the shouts of encouragement, the bursts of laughter - feels like an assault on your senses. Each kick sends another ripple of pain through your skull, deepening the throbbing.
Wataru notices the way your shoulders tense with each sharp noise and is about to speak when you take a deep breath, pushing off the wall and forcing steadiness into your voice.
âIâll be upstairs,â you say softly. âWhen youâre ready to start, just let me know.â
He nods, understanding clear in his eyes. âTake your time, Y/N. No rush.â
You offer a grateful smile before turning to head back inside. Each step is a conscious effort to stay composed. The quiet of the training centre seems more inviting than ever, a much-needed refuge from the relentless pounding in your head.
"Long night?" Trent remarked as he spotted Wataru holding two cups of coffee. His brows furrowed in mild surprise, though his tone remained light as he gestured toward the cups.
Wataru chuckled and shook his head. âNot for me. One of these is for Y/N.â
Trentâs expression shifted slightly, his brows relaxing as he nodded. âOh.â
âShe mentioned she skipped breakfast,â Wataru explained, âso I thought coffee might help.â
Trent glanced at the black coffee in Wataruâs hand, steam rising from the cup. His face remained neutral, but there was a subtle twitch at the corner of his lips before he spoke again.
âShe doesnât drink it black,â Trent said matter-of-factly.
Wataru blinked in surprise, glancing down at one of the cups. âOh, really?â
âYeah,â Trent replied, trying to sound casual. He looked away, his voice quiet but with a slight edge.
âYou might want to add some milk and a bit of sweetener. Iâve never seen her drink it.. like that.â
âAh, thanks,â Wataru said, giving him a nod as the coffee machine hummed in the background.
Trent responded with a curt nod of his own, the awkwardness of the moment settling over him.
As he waited for the machine to finish, he rubbed the back of his neck, obviously trying to shake off the uneasy feeling thatâd crept up on him.
Finally, he poured himself a cup, his movements deliberate but distracted.
He never assumed he knew your coffee preferences, but the fact that he actually did only disturbed him.
Wataru exited the canteen, but Trent remained standing in his place, staring down at his cup. The liquid swirling as he gave it a half-hearted stir, his mind lost in thought.
Heâd been trying to keep his distance from you, aiming to stay focused on his own routines. You were just another face at the training centre, someone there to do a job like everyone else.
At least, thatâs what he kept telling himself.
So why had he noticed how you took your coffee? Why did it matter to him?
The thought nagged at him, making him feel off balance. He didnât like it.
He didnât like that he was starting to notice these little things about you, almost as if he was beginning to care. It made him feel uneasy, like he was losing his grip on the boundaries heâd set for himself.
He shook his head, wiping the bottom of the spoon on the rim of his cup before setting it down on the tray.
The nagging sensation in his chest made him feel vulnerable, and Trent Alexander-Arnold wasnât supposed to be vulnerable. He was supposed to be focused, dedicated, with his head in the game and his heart firmly off the field.
He took a sip of his coffee, the bitter taste barely registering as he tried to shake off the uncomfortable thought.
The truth was, heâd been noticing you for a while now.
The way you moved, the sound of your laugh, the determination with which you threw yourself into your work - it was hard to ignore.
And heâd been trying to push those thoughts away, shoving them into the back of his mind where they couldnât distract him.
But every now and then, they crept back in, uninvited and unwelcome.
He let out a deep breath and finally decided to move. He followed the same route Wataru had taken just a few minutes earlier.
As he stepped out of the canteen, he saw his teammate engaged in conversation with one of the backroom staff, overhearing snatches of words like "reschedule" and "now."
His attention drifted as he passed by, noticing Ibou absorbed in what looked like cricket highlights playing on the TV. Yet his mind was still clouded, so much so that he barely noticed when his name was called.
âTrent!â The voice cut through the haze, pulling him back to the present. He turned to see Wataru waving him over, his expression a mix of urgency and apology.
He hesitated for a moment before walking over, his footsteps heavy. âWhatâs up?â He asked, aiming to sound casual.
Wataru glanced at the staff member, then back at him. âIâve got to go see Arne,â he said, his voice low. âCan you do me a favour?â
Trent raised an eyebrow, half-expecting to be asked to cover a training session or run an errand. âDepends,â he said slowly.
He saw Wataruâs gaze shift to the coffee cups in his hands, and he felt his stomach sink. A chorus of silent âno no noâsâ echoed in his mind, ignored by whatever higher powers may've been listening.
Wataru hesitated for a moment, a conflicted look on his face, before finally holding one of the cups out to him. âDo you mind taking this up to Y/N for me?â
Trent hesitated, frowning. âCanât someone else do it?â
The faces of the two men standing opposite him twisted into mild confusion, as if that was the last response they expected.
"It wonât take you long."
His eyes flickered over. He clenched his jaw, not wanting to get involved. The last thing he needed was to play delivery boy, especially for you.
He was about to refuse again when he saw the concern in Wataruâs eyes. With a resigned sigh, he took the cup.
Wataruâs face broke into a grateful but meek smile. He hurried off, leaving Trent to stare down at the cup in his hand, feeling a mix of irritation and something else he couldnât quite name.
He headed toward the stairs, his steps slow, each one weighed down by the internal debate raging in his head.
He could just throw it out.
The thought crossed his mind almost immediately.
Dump the coffee and be done with it. Youâd never know. And then he wouldnât have to deal with the awkwardness of seeing you.
But then again, Wataru would find out. Heâd ask you about the coffee later, and if it never made it to you, Trent would have to come up with some kind of excuse.
Wataru might be easygoing, but he wasnât dumb. Trent didnât need anyone questioning him, especially over something as trivial as a cup of coffee.
He gripped the cup tighter, feeling the warmth seep through the paper. Itâd be so easy to turn around, head back to the kitchen, and pour it down the sink.
Out of sight, out of mind.
He could almost picture it - the splash of tan liquid spinning down the drain, washing his hands of this whole situation.
But then there was the part of him that knew better, the part that had been growing louder lately. The part that remembered the way you looked this morning, rubbing your temples, the pain etched across your face.
He made his way down the hallway, taking the stairs one at a time until he stood outside your door.
He hesitated, he hated this strange, unfamiliar urge to do something nice for someone here. And for you, of all people.
It was annoying, unsettling.
Realising both hands were full, he resorted to tapping the toe of his trainer against the wooden door, three quick thuds echoing through the corridor.
He clicked his tongue in frustration and tried again, tapping harder.
âYouâve got to be shitting me,â he muttered, irritation lacing his words.
As he stood there, a familiar figure sauntered down the corridor. Harvey noticed Trentâs growing agitation and, with a smirk, made his way over to investigate.
âWhat are you doing?â Harvey asked, his accented voice dripping with amusement. His eyes shifted from Trentâs face to the coffee cups, then to the trainer tapping rhythmically against the door.
âIâm knocking, genius,â Trent replied, his voice edged with sarcasm. He let out a sigh through his nose, tipping his head back slightly as Harvey's eyes flickered between him and the door.
âSince when do you ever knock?â Harvey questioned, eyebrows raised in mock disbelief.
Trentâs mouth opened to retort, but nothing came out. He hated to admit it, but he was right. He never knocked.
A beat of silence passed before Trent jerked his chin toward the door. âGet the door for me, yeah?â
Harvey grinned, clearly enjoying the moment. âI kinda wanna see how long youâll keep this up,â he teased, his tone light.
Trent shot him a glare, though the corners of his mouth twitched with reluctant amusement.
âAlright, alright. Keep your hair on.â Harvey chuckled, relenting. He stepped forward, pressing down on the handle and pushing the door open.
Trent manoeuvred through the doorway, using the back of his shoulder to nudge it open the rest of the way, careful not to spill the coffee. He cast a sidelong glance at his friend, who leaned against the door frame with a smirk.
âSee? Was that so hard?â Harvey quipped, his tone dripping with amusement.
âYeah, yeah,â Trent muttered, rolling his eyes.
He stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room. Everything in your office looked untouched, as if you'd entered and gone straight to your desk. You were slumped over, head resting in one hand, elbow propped up on the wooden surface.
Either youâd fallen asleep, or...
âIs she dead?â Harvey asked.
"Here's hoping.â Trent mumbled in response.
He took a step closer, clearing his throat softly, but you remained oblivious.
Trentâs gaze flickered around the room, his usual composure faltering as he took in your dishevelled state. Despite his attempts to remain detached, seeing you like this stirred something deep within him that he couldnât quite ignore.
With a sigh, he shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of the unease that had settled over him. He carefully placed the coffee on the desk beside you, his movements deliberate.
Tentatively, he reached out, his fingers barely grazing your shirt as if testing the waters.
When you remained unresponsive, he mustered the courage to place his full hand on your shoulder and gave you a gentle shake.
âHey,â he said, his voice softer than he intended. âIâve got your coffee.â
You stirred, lifting your head and blinking groggily. He removed his hand, straightening his back.
âTrent?â You mumbled, still half-asleep. The smell of the coffee faintly registered in your mind. âYou didnât have to..â
He shrugged, attempting to sound casual. âWataru asked me to bring it up. And, well..â He glanced at you, feeling an unfamiliar tug of something he couldnât quite name. âI figured you might need it.â
You sat up and rubbed your eyes. âThanks. I really do.â
As he was about to leave, he noticed the pile of paperwork cluttered next to your computer, the chaos suggesting youâd been battling through it despite your headache.
âI, uh..â His voice faltered slightly. âNeed any help with that?â
You were about to reply when Harveyâs voice cut in, disbelief evident in his tone. âYouâre offering to help?â
Trent shifted uncomfortably, his back still turned to Harvey as he rolled his eyes. You caught the movement and chuckled softly.
âNot offering. Justââ He turned to see Harveyâs amused expression and added hastily, ââjust making sure she's not swamped. Is that a crime?â
Harvey shrugged, crossing his arms. âNot at all. Just didnât think you had it in you.â
Trent picked up half of the stack, maybe more, his actions earnest but guarded.
You watched him with a mix of gratitude and surprise, taking a sip of the coffee and feeling the soothing warmth begin to ease your headache.
Harvey raised an eyebrow, still leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. âWell, well. Didnât think Iâd see the day Trent Alexander-Arnold played the hero.â
Trentâs lips curled into a slight smile, his cheeks reddening as he held up a stack of papers toward Harvey. âWant to help?â
Harvey raised his hands in mock surrender, pushing himself off the doorframe. âIâll leave you two to it. Have fun, lovebirds.â
As he departed, your cheeks warmed slightly, but you quickly shifted your focus to your inbox. An email from Arne caught your eye at the top, informing you that your session with Wataru had been rescheduled.
You exhaled, thinking, I slept through it anyway.
Trent, meanwhile, had sunk onto the couch, peeling off the top sheet of the document. He placed the remaining papers neatly on the cabinet beside him and studied the single sheet in his hand with a skeptical frown.
The bold black text at the top seemed to glare back at him: "For Liverpool FC Staff Only."
He paused, his fingers grazing the corner of the page. "I can read these, right?"
You glanced over, a small smile touching your lips as you met his gaze. âYeah, they're just things I need to acknowledge I've read,â you said with a casual shrug, your voice carrying a hint of nonchalance.
Trent tilted his head, raising an eyebrow as he flipped the document over. âSeems a bit counter-productive, though,â he remarked.
âNot really. I never actually read them,â you explained nonchalantly.
A smirk played at the corners of his mouth. âAnd here I thought you were all about dedication to your job,â he said, his voice trailing off with a mocking edge.
You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, picking up your coffee cup again after dragging the stack of remaining papers closer.
âI am dedicated,â you replied with a hint of a smile, âbut finance just doesnât interest me. I skim.â
He hummed, his eyes scanning the text.
You paused before starting on your work, glancing over at Trent. âAnything important, just make sure you tell me.â
Trent looked up, his expression blank but his voice dripping with sarcasm. âWhat if I want to skim read?â
You smiled, shaking your head as you turned your attention back to the papers. âShut up, Trent.â
His gaze lingered on you, a smirk playing at his lips as he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth. He finally looked away, his smile widening just slightly.
The soft shuffle of papers and the occasional scratch of your pen had become a rhythmic background noise in the room.
Your headache had lessened thanks to the coffee and the company, but the stack of paperwork in front of you still felt like an endless mountain.
As you reached the final couple of documents, you heard Trent stand up from the couch.
You looked over just in time to see him stretching his arms above his head, the motion causing his shirt to lift slightly, revealing a sliver of toned skin beneath.
You swallowed, instinctively folding your lips inwards as your eyes lingered for a moment too long.
He was an athlete, after all, so naturally, he was fit, as any athlete would be. But seeing it up close stirred something in you that you quickly tried to dismiss.
He caught your glance, and instead of saying anything, Trent poked his tongue into his cheek, clearly holding back a remark.
His lips pressed together in a restrained smirk, like he was biting back a teasing comment. He didnât want to overstep, especially in the middle of a setting like this one, and God forbid he came across like heâd noticed too much.
Your face grew warm, and you immediately redirected your attention back to the papers in front of you, pretending to scan over the same paragraph you had just read.
But the words on the page were a blur, the previous focus you had was gone, and all you could feel was your heart beating a little too fast, a bit too aware of his presence nearby.
He placed the now neatly organised stack of papers he had been working on back onto your desk. âThese just need your signature now,â he said, his voice casual, but you could sense a hint of satisfaction.
You raised an eyebrow. âYou finished all of them?â
He nodded, unfazed. He pulled out a folded A4 paper from his pocket.
âI made a note.. of everything that was important.â His fingers unfolded the paper to reveal messy, scribbled handwriting - a far cry from the neat, printed reports you were used to seeing.
But the gesture behind it was unexpectedly sweet.
You stared at the paper in his hand for a moment, a small smile tugging at your lips.
Trent, ever the enigma, had actually taken the time to make sure you didnât miss anything crucial. His expression was calm, neutral even, but you knew deep down this was one of those moments heâd never let you thank him for.
âThanks, Trent. Thatâs.. really thoughtful of you.â The words felt too light, not enough to fully express your gratitude, but you also knew him well enough to recognise that overpraising him would probably make him uncomfortable.
As expected, he shrugged, trying to play it cool. âYeah, yeah. Just donât make a habit of needing me for this stuff.â
You laughed softly, the sound light and refreshing. âIâll try not to.â
There was a beat of silence before he shoved the note toward you, his eyes finally meeting yours for a brief second. "Make sure you check my notes, though. My handwritingâs a bit shit.â
You took the note from his hand, your fingers brushing against his for the briefest moment.
âIâll make sure to decipher it,â you teased lightly, glancing down at the paper covered in hurried scrawls.
As Trent turned to leave, he paused at the door, glancing back at you. âTake it easy, Y/N. Canât have you passing out on us.â
You nodded, cheeks flushed, as you fiddled with the paper between your fingers. The door clicked shut behind him, and you let out a deep breath.
The room suddenly felt quieter, emptier, but your mind wasnât letting go. You pressed your lips together, trying to focus on the documents in front of you, but your thoughts kept drifting back to him - his quiet gestures, the sarcastic remarks, the infuriating smirks.
It was maddening how easily he got under your skin, how a simple glance could set your pulse racing.
Then, the memory played again in your mind, torturously vivid - the door shutting, the way he'd looked at you before leaving.
But then it hit you. Y/N.
Your mouth parted, breath hitching as the realisation dawned. Heâd said your name.
For the first time, it wasnât âpsychologist.â It was your actual name.
Since youâd started here, you hadn't noticed how much that label created a barrier, a distance. Now, the memory of him saying your name replayed on a loop, breaking through that invisible wall.
You hadnât realised how much you wanted to hear it from him.
You were making your way down the hallway towards the cafeteria when you saw Wataru walking towards you. You exchanged polite smiles, a small gesture of recognition, as you passed by each other.
But something made you pause, and you turned back, calling after him.
âWataru!â You said, a grateful grin crossing your face. He turned around, his eyes curious.
âThanks for the coffee,â you added, your voice light with appreciation.
Wataru's smile widened as he slowed his pace. âDid Trent bring it up?â He asked, shifting his weight where he stood.
âYeah, he did,â you confirmed.
âHowâs the headache?â He asked, a soft concern in his tone.
âGone,â you replied, your hand instinctively reaching up to run over the skin on your forehead. âThanks to you.â
Wataru nodded, clearly pleased.
You studied him for a moment, your curiousity getting the best of you. You tilted your head ever so slightly and asked, âhow did you know how I liked it? My coffee, I mean?â
He raised an eyebrow, caught off guard for a moment, then shook his head with a quiet laugh. âI didnât,â he said plainly, his expression easy.
Your brow furrowed in confusion, your lips parting as you waited for him to explain further.
Wataru chuckled again and leaned in slightly, a conspiratorial tone in his voice. âTrent told me. Said you didnât like it plain.â
Your heart skipped a beat, surprise flickering across your face. âReally?â You asked, your voice mellow with disbelief. âI didnât know he knew that.â
Wataru smiled, watching the realisation dawn on you. âHeâs an attentive boy,â he added with a nod, his tone thoughtful.
You blinked, processing his words. âYeah,â you breathily replied, your brows lifting in agreement.
Trent finished zipping up his thin jacket with a final click, the sound resonating softly as he shut the door to the vacant computer room behind him. He patted his pockets, making sure he had everything.
Across the hallway, you were locking your office door, your focus intent as you fumbled with the key.
Your eyes met at the exact same moment - yours lifting from the office door just as Trentâs eyes drifted from the closed computer room.
âHey,â you greeted, a small, tired smile curving your lips.
Trentâs gaze flickered to your lips before settling back on your eyes, a subtle shift in his expression. âHey,â he replied, his tone soft and casual, with an undertone of something more.
The corridor felt oddly intimate, the quiet hum of the lights and distant echoes were all you could hear. You adjusted your bag on your shoulder, gently clearing your throat.
Trent massaged the back of his shoulder, having had to stare at a computer for a number of hours, a gesture that revealed his own weariness.
âLong day?â He asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.
âYeah.â You nodded, briefly looking down before meeting his eyes again. âCaught up on some stuff with Wataru. And you?â
âSame,â Trent said with a small shrug, his gaze lingering a moment longer than usual. âOnline seminar ran late.â
You stood there for a moment as the hallway seemed to close in around you, your small smiles communicating a quiet understanding.
âYou heading out now?â Trent asked gently, his voice almost hesitant as if not wanting to break the moment.
âYeah, just heading home. I'm assuming you're the same.â You replied, shifting your bag once more.
âYep,â Trent said, his eyes meeting yours.
"Walk with me?" You tilted your head to the end of the hallway where the stairs led downstairs.
He looked over, swallowing as he nodded his head. "Sure."
You both turned, your shoulders grazing ever so slightly as you walked in what felt like a comfortable silence together, descending the stairs.
You walked side by side toward the buildingâs exit. Brian, stationed by the manually operated door on the same wall as the now-locked automatic ones, gave it a gentle push open.
"See you tomorrow, Brian." You expressed with a genuine smile, giving him a small wave.
"See you, love. Have a good night, son." He replied warmly.
He stepped aside though as he turned slightly, his body angled to give you clear passage. With a subtle sweep of his hand, he motioned for you to go ahead before him.
You slipped past, your back brushed lightly against his chest, the brief contact making your stomach flip in an instant.
The sensation caught you off guard, sending a jolt of warmth through your body. You felt like a schoolgirl again, every accidental touch with a crush igniting a fire in your limbs.
Crush? You blinked, shaking the thought out of your head quickly. Nope, nope. Thatâs not it.
You exhaled quietly, trying to steady yourself, looking back as Trent caught up beside you.
A brisk gust of wind whipped around you both. Instinctively, you tucked the loose strands of hair that had escaped your bun behind your ear, crossing your arms over your chest to keep warm.
Trent shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, his breath visible in the cold air.
âGetting colder,â you commented.
âNo shit,â Trent agreed, his voice a bit strained against the chill. âSummer ended quick.â
"You can talk, you werenât even in the country," you teased, giving him a sidelong glance.
Trent didnât miss a beat, replying almost instantly, "you didnât even work here then, how would you know?"
You opened your mouth to respond but hesitated, the words not quite forming in time. Trent noticed and grinned, his smugness unmistakable.
âSomeone stalking my Insta?â
You rolled your eyes, fighting the grin threatening to break out. âPlease. You think youâre that interesting?â
Trent shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. âCanât blame ya. I mean, half the worldâs got eyes on me.â
âHalf the world, huh?â You shot back, arching a brow. âI didnât realise your four friends counted as âhalf the world' now.â
He chuckled, tucking his chin deeper into his jacket. âStill more friends than youâve got.â
âOh, donât worry,â you replied smoothly, flashing a grin. âIâve got friends, too. Just.. a bit more exclusive.â
âExclusive, eh?â Trent said, his tone mock-serious.
"Mhm," you trailed off, smiling.
As you walked, your mind wandered back to earlier in the day, remembering how heâd said your name. It was brief, almost casual, but it had stuck with you. It had felt different, personal.
And now, it replayed in your head, over and over.
Without fully realising it, you broke the silence. âYou said my name.â
Trentâs steps slowed as he processed your words, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. âWhat?â
You looked down, cheeks flushed from the cold - or maybe something else. âWhen you left my office earlier, you called me by my name.â
Trent pressed his bottom lip up to his top as he thought back. âPretty sure Iâve said your name before.â
âNot to me,â you said, glancing up at him with a hopeful look.
He tilted his head. âAnd whyâs that so important?â
âBecause.. it is,â you admitted, a hint of vulnerability slipping through. âTo me, it is.â
Trent's muscles relaxed as his eyes roved over your features. âThe bar's in hell, huh?â
You laughed, the sound warm and genuine, cutting through the chill. You nudged his arm with your hand.
âWhatever,â you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest to trap the heat.
You finally approached Trentâs car, and he turned to you with a nod before pressing the unlock button on his keys.
You watched as he walked closer to his car door and opened it. The quiet of the evening was interrupted by your voice, again.
âThanks for the coffee,â you said, raising your voice slightly to cut through the wind.
Trent's lips twitched, biting his bottom one to hold back from taking any credit. âI didnât make your coffee.â
âDonât lie, Trent. It doesnât suit you." You remarked, scrunching your nose and shaking your head.
For a moment, his eyes stayed on you, lingering with a soft intensity. You held his gaze, feeling an unspoken connection. The seconds stretched on as you both seemed to take in the moment, your heart racing slightly in the charged silence.
Trent eventually looked away, fiddling with the keys in his hand.
âGet out of the way before I run you over." He quipped, his voice lighthearted.
âCharming,â you retorted.
Trent shook his head, getting into his car.
You began walking towards the pedestrian gate, hearing the engine of his car start up as you turned to give him one last glance before starting your short walk home.
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