“Shit,” I mutter as I narrowly avoid swerving off the road.
“You’re alright,” Oliver says calmly from the passenger seat.
Eventually, I manage a turn without panicking and over-correcting. It feels like maybe I’m finally getting the hang of this and my confidence grows with every bend in the road.
But then, of course, a car rushes past me, cutting me off with barely an inch of space to spare.
“Fuck! Youwanker!” I shout without even thinking.
“Well, look at you,” Oliver says with a laugh that fills the car. “Did you just call someone a wanker?”
“Sorry.” I look over at him, flushed, but grinning. “You’re rubbing off on me.”
“Oh, sure. Blame me.” He laughs, feigning innocence.
Eventually, it’s just us on the road. My shoulders relax, the tension leaving my body.
“Wow,” I say, my voice caught between disbelief and pride. “I’m doing it. I’m driving.”
“You sure are,” Oliver says, his smile stupidly perfect from the passenger seat.
But then I spot a road sign indicating a roundabout coming up. “Nope. Absolutely not. That’s where I draw the line. No roundabouts.”
Oliver laughs. “Alright. Pull over. We’ll switch.”
He barely has the words out of his mouth and I’ve pulled over, hopping out so quickly you’d think the car was on fire.
“That was terrifying,” I say as I clip my seatbelt.
“You were brilliant.” He shifts the car into gear, and we start moving again, heading back in the direction of his mother’s house.
“You’re lying again.” I laugh. “It really was terrifying.”
“But you did it,” he says simply.
I glance over at him. He’s focused on the road, but there’s a small smile on his face, like he’s proud of me.
I look back out the window, watching as the countryside blurs by in soft, green streaks. The adrenaline from my driving lesson has worn off, but my heart is still thudding.
I have rules. I have them for a reason.
It’s how I protect myself.
I came out here this weekend to relax, to get away from all the noise that Matt has brought here. But now I’m sitting beside Oliver in the car thinking I’m breaking rules just by being here.
I let him take my hand, call me Addie, and tell me he’d never let anything happen to me. I believed him. And I loved how it felt. I really loved it.
That scares me the most—how I don’t even realize I’m playing with fire until I’m holding it in my hands.
Panic crawls up the back of my neck, like I need to rewind all this. I need to say something, or crack a joke, anything to put some distance between us again.
Oliver glances over at me. “You alright?”
I nod. “Yeah. Just tired.”
He stares at me for a second, but doesn’t push. “We’ll head back to Mum’s.”
I nod, but don’t say anything. I clasp my hands together in my lap, like I’m bracing myself for a storm I didn’t see coming.
