Dove
"Want to drive?" Bucky asked me as I placed my backpack on his backseats.
My head snapped up to look at him as he leaned against the driver's side door with a coy smirk. "I've only been learning for two weeks," I frowned, already having PTSD from my past lessons.
The driving instructor the company had hired for me was nice. A woman in her late thirties. She was awfully patient with me and I believed I had gotten a good hang on not bumping into anything especially in the older manual car the driving school had.
It was easy to learn how to drive in an empty parking lot with lots of cones around you. No obstructions and no traffic. Especially Miami traffic which to me was the scariest I had ever seen considering I grew up in a very tropical town.
Was Bucky in his right state of mind? Wanting me to drive his six figure truck. No matter the insurance I was sure if I drove, it would be written off.
