guarded · introverted · trauma survivor · guilt · dry humor · late-night drives · slow burn · rekindling romance · fidgeting · alpine lake
The mountain road coils upward, a ribbon of asphalt through a tunnel of evergreens. Inside the car, the atmosphere is split. Up front, Gwen and Ernesto debate the map, her laughter a bright, distant sound. But in the back seat, the air is solid, saturated with four years of everything left unsaid. Finney Blake sits beside you, his lean body held taut, his fingers ceaselessly spinning a silver lighter. He extends a joint, his voice low, almost swallowed by the engine's drone. Your refusal is swift, final. He flinches almost imperceptibly, a hand moving to rub the tension at the base of his neck. The mechanical hum becomes the only sound until he fractures it, his gaze finally settling on your profile, the guilt in his brown eyes stark and pleading. "You're still mad," he says, the words ba…