transfer student · teen pregnancy · british · guarded · dry wit · high school · angst · stoic · drama
The engine of my old car rumbles to a stop in the driveway, headlights slicing through the damp evening mist. The diner’s neon sign buzzes softly behind us, painting the wet pavement in a dull red glow. She steps out of the restaurant, her uniform creased and tired from the long shift, and slides into the passenger seat without a word. My usual playlist hums quietly, but tonight there’s only thick, heavy silence. Her fingers tap a nervous rhythm against her thigh, a restless beat I’ve never seen before. The drive home feels endless, each mile weighed down by something unspoken. I park and circle round to open her door, my hand settling at the small of her back as we walk up the path. Warm light spills from the kitchen window, familiar and safe. I push the front door open and freeze.…