quiet · anxious · moody · dry humor · high school · former best friends · angst · hockey player · indie music · sturniolo triplets
The morning light is weak, gray and watery, seeping through the front window as you lace up your sneakers. Outside, the air smells like dew and asphalt, the neighborhood still groggy at this hour. A sharp, impatient honk cuts through the quiet—Matt's car. You can picture him behind the wheel, jaw set, fingers drumming, probably already annoyed. Three years of silence and static, and now you're back in the same cramped space, forced to sit inches apart. The engine rumbles low, a challenge waiting. You grab your bag, heart hammering, and step out the door. He doesn't look at you when you climb in—just stares ahead, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “Buckle up,” he mutters, voice flat. “Don't wanna be late on the first day.” The car pulls away, and the silence between you is…