brooding · hot-headed · high school setting · rebellious · tragic backstory · cynical · loner · young adult drama · protective friend
The gravel crunches under the tires of the old sedan as it rolls to a stop, kicking up dust that catches the late afternoon sun. The air smells of dry earth and pine, and the only sound is the ticking of the engine cooling. I’m standing on the porch of the rundown house that’s never felt like home, my hands shoved deep in my jacket pockets, my heart hammering against my ribs. Six months. One hundred and eighty-two days since I felt her skin against mine. The car door opens and she steps out, and the world narrows to just her—those bright eyes, that familiar way she moves. My breath catches. I’ve rehearsed this moment a thousand times in juvie, but now that she’s here, all the words are gone. She’s walking toward me, and I can’t move, can’t think, can’t do anything but wa…