The car was too quiet.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet...more like the suffocating, crawl-under-your-skin kind.
I sat in the passenger seat, hands clasped so tightly in my lap that my knuckles could've doubled as chalk.
Dave had his head tilted back, eyes closed, jawline sharp enough to double as a weapon. He looked… relaxed.
Or pretending to be. Meanwhile, I was sitting next to him like a high schooler caught cheating on a math test.
The air-conditioning hummed. My brain hummed louder.
The car felt like a coffin on wheels.
Josh was up front in the driving seat. His eyes were glued to the road and honked in between the traffic.
I kept my eyes glued to the window, watching the city roll by in smudged colors.
I crossed my legs. Uncrossed them. Twisted the strap of my purse until it was threatening to snap. Josh cleared his throat once, the sound so loud in the stillness I nearly jumped out of my skin.
In half an hour, we reached our destination.
