From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)
Chapter 161: A Seat Beside You

Chapter 161: A Seat Beside You

After lunch, Micah stood with his arms crossed, watching Lin Heye awkwardly stuff the very drunk Dylon Parisi into the backseat of Clyde’s car like a sack of flour. Dylon’s head rolled against the window, one arm dangling outside until Lin Heye shoved it and slammed the door shut.

Micah exhaled softly, almost amused. His eyes drifted to the man standing beside him.

Clyde stood with his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, posture straight. His expression didn’t shift much as he glanced at the car, then looked away, clearly not caring about the whole affair.

Micah tilted his head. "Aren’t you going to drop him off?"

Clyde’s face shifted slightly into distaste, the bridge of his nose wrinkled. "No," he replied, voice flat. "My driver would be enough. I don’t like the smell of alcohol in the car, let alone a drunk one in it."

Micah nodded slowly, not surprised by his answer. "Okay... Thanks for your help. I’m going now..."

He turned to leave, reaching into his pocket for his car keys when he felt a sudden tug on his wrist. Startled, he blinked down at the hand holding him.

Clyde was gripping him, not tightly, but firm enough to stop him. "Aren’t you forgetting something?" he asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Hmm?!" Micah tilted his head.

Clyde let out a sigh, releasing his wrist. "What a heartless boy! Can’t you drop me off?"

"You really need me?" Micah raised an eyebrow, smirking.

Clyde shook his head in disappointment. "Now that you are out of the woods, I am just a background character, not worth your attention?"

"What out of the woods? Last night, my hair was a little wet...," Micah mumbled in defence.

"Oh... Fine." Clyde turned on his heel with a sharp snap and took a step away. "I’ll get a taxi."

Micah hesitated, watching Clyde’s back retreating. He nibbled on the inside of his cheek, debating. Then he heard Clyde’s voice.

"Right," he said, looking over his shoulder. "I assume you don’t need me anymore. You’ve found others to give your designs to Georgina."

Micah’s eyes widened, and he slapped his forehead, totally forgetting about that. "No. They are in my apartment." Then Micah jogged toward Clyde and tugged at Clyde’s sleeve. "Let’s go to my place first. Then I’ll drop you off at your home, I promise."

Clyde paused, glancing down at Micah’s hand on his sleeve, then at Micah’s face. His lips curled into a slow smirk, eyes glinting with teasing disbelief. "So I am less important than your designs? wow..."

"No... no," Micah shook his head furiously, eyes wide in panic. "I was just teasing you. Of course, I would have given you a ride." he lied shamelessly.

Clyde let out a chuckle. "Alright. Lead the way."

Micah cheerfully walked toward his car, which was still parked in front of the restaurant from the night before. He opened the back seat door, gesturing grandly like a proper driver. "Mr. President, please!"

But Clyde ignored the backseat entirely and walked around to the front passenger door. He opened it and settled inside without waiting. "I don’t need a driver..."

Micah smiled mischievously and closed the door. He slipped into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

Clyde peeked at Micah from the corner of his eye. The boy sat with one hand draped over the wheel, posture relaxed and confidant. He drove like he had been doing it for years. One hand propped casually near the window as he turned onto the road. He didn’t drive like someone who had only just gotten their driver’s license. Wasn’t he eighteen?

"You like driving?" Clyde asked, tone natural.

"Nah..." Micah said, shrugging. "But I used to go to a car race place before..."Micah paused, suddenly feeling a cold pressure emitting beside him.

Clyde’s eyes were sharp now, gaze piercing. "You drove in an illegal race?" he said through gritted teeth.

"What? No!" Micah nearly shouted. "Of course not! I am not that foolish! Besides, my Mum would have beaten me to a pulp!"

He stole a glance at Clyde, then quickly turned his eyes back at the road. "I went there to train...but only during times when the track was closed to the public. It was my uncle Edmund’s place. So he lent it to me. It was just empty, and I needed a place to practice."

"Why would you do that?" Clyde’s tone softened, but only slightly.

Micah exhaled slowly, voice dropping a bit. "The first time I went to the driving class, the heirs of other families laughed at me. They said I didn’t have talent in anything...or that Ramsy family didn’t care about me." He swallowed. "The truth is...my mum hated reckless driving. I wasn’t allowed near cars until I was of age. So I was behind everyone else when I started. Most of the heirs of rich families have undergone several trainings before coming out of age. So..," his words fell out easily. "So I trained there... alone."

Micah talked about his past without any reservations. Opening up about how others looked at him like he was a delinquent, a waste, and a vain person when he didn’t meet the criteria of being a proper heir.

Silence settled in the car for a moment. Micah kept his eyes on the road, but his fingers fidgeted slightly on the steering wheel.

Clyde, meanwhile, sat stiffly. His lips were drawn tight, eyes no longer amused. The words Micah uttered flatly had probably done more damage than that. For Micah to go there to train...

A sudden sadness filled his heart. Clyde felt his chest tighten. He hated it. Hated the idea of people dismissing Micah. He didn’t like the thought that people assumed Micah was talentless or unloved. Something deep in his heart ached. Like he had experienced them before.

Clyde frowned, lost in thought.

They arrived at Micah’s apartment soon after. Micah parked the car and turned off the engine with a light sigh. "We are here. Do you want to come up?" he asked, turning to glance at Clyde.

Clyde, still half lost in thought, blinked, then hummed a quiet sound of agreement.

They headed into the building together, footsteps echoing faintly in the hallway. When they reached Micah’s door, he opened the door just a crack and froze, then he slammed it shut just as fast.

"Ah...wait here a bit," Micah said, laughing nervously. "I forgot my place is a mess."

Before Clyde could respond, Micah slipped through the narrow opening and shut the door behind him like he was guarding a national secret.

Clyde chuckled with an amused look on his face. He had caught the sight of the jean skirt from last night lying in front of the door.

"What a clumsy boy..."

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