Claire put up a valiant effort, but at the end of the day, she just didn't have the stamina to keep up.
Choosing to be on top was probably her biggest mistake. Up until now, every time we've had sex, I had been the one on top—or at least, I was the one putting in the bulk of the effort. If she continued to just work her hips from below and allowed me to do most of the work, like all our past couplings, she probably could have lasted a lot longer, but she was probably worried that she wouldn't be in control, and that I'd make her cum too much if I was on top the whole time.
Of course, it still wound up that way eventually.
Claire dropped her hips down onto me, engulfing my dick in her hot pussy, before slowly dragging herself back up and settling into a slow, sedate pace. She braced her hands on my chest for support, lightly playing with my nipples as she went up and down on me, clearly unused to the sensation of having to use her legs while fucking by the way she never quite let me fully bottom out inside her. Something I could take advantage of.
I allowed her to set the pace for a while, flexing my hips in time with her own movements, a genial smile on my face as I enjoyed watching her bounce up and down on my dick. I threw in a moan here and there, exaggerating a bit just to show that I was still enjoying it, which contrasted with her heavy, focused breathing as she tried to milk me for all I was worth.
She was doing a pretty good job, honestly—but one buck of my hips was all it took to break her concentration.
I thrust myself fully inside her, and she immediately collapsed on top of me like a puppet with its strings cut, mewling weakly against my chest. Rubbing my hand gently down her back, I allowed her to stay there for a bit, whispering soft encouragements into her ear as I slowly pistoned in and out of her warm cunt from below. It was probably a little mean, teasing her like that, but the little noises she made as she tried and failed to regain her composure were too adorable. I just couldn't stop myself from trying to coax a few more out of her.
"'S'not fair," she grumbled, eventually pushing herself back up and trying to take the lead once again, rocking back and forth on my dick as she waited for her legs to start working again.
I'd considered bucking my hips again as soon as they did, just to see it happen twice, but even I'm not that mean.
Claire eventually got back into the swing of things, leaning forward a bit to let me grab at her tits while she felt up mine. It was a strange sensation for me, but I imagined that it was probably just as strange to have her own breasts fondled, and she responded well to the extra stimulation, so I didn't say anything and just kept at it. Once she seemed like she'd gotten used to the feeling of having her nipples played with, I switched tactics: I propped myself up on one elbow, leaned up and started to trail butterfly kisses down her jawline and neck, nipping at her throat a bit as I passed it before ending at her collarbone, my other hand ghosting down her flank all the way to her thigh. Her sopping pussy flexed around my dick as I reached her neck and ass respectively, convulsing in a way that had my back tensing involuntarily and my dick twitching. I almost wanted to blow my load inside her then and there, and had this not been a competition, I probably would have abandoned all control and started plowing her until I exploded directly in her cervix, but alas, that wasn't the case. I had to be patient.
Biting the inside of my lip in hopes of delaying my own orgasm, I pushed a little deeper inside, pressing the head of my dick into her upper wall and grinding the ridge of my glans against her g-spot as she pulled up. She buckled a bit, dropping all the way back down on my cock as her eyes closed in a manner not dissimilar to a cat being scratched under the chin. But my attack was a double-edged sword, since my head was still sensitive, and her pussy felt almost overwhelmingly pleasurable. A sudden, staticky pleasure tingled at the base of my stomach, and I nearly bit a hole through my lip just to keep myself from cumming.
Claire, however, didn't.
A gush of scorching hot fluid coated my crotch as she slammed her ass into my hips, conjoining us at the hilt, gurgling throatily in pleasure all the while. I held her down as her vice-grip pussy flooded over and comforted her as she rode out her desperate orgasm, her cheeks burning with exertion. She managed to hold herself steady for a bit, unlike her previous orgasms, but soon after the high died down, she collapsed on top of me like a sack of potatoes.
Five to two, my favor.
I pet her head for a while, hoping to comfort her as she came down completely from her orgasm, slowly pulling my still-hard dick out of her despite still being right on the edge. I still wanted to cum, certainly, but cumming a third time in an afternoon would definitely cause me to tap out for the night. I doubted I could have pushed for a fourth, and I wasn't confident in my ability to perform if my own orgasm gave her something of a second wind. As much as I liked her, we did have a bet going.
Plus, I didn't want her to accidentally hurt herself trying. I knew women here were sturdier than mine, but waking up with a sore vagina still didn't sound particularly pleasant.
"You okay?" I asked, playing the role of the caring lover. I was confident that she was, but it was still polite to ask.
"…Yeah," she croaked, still shivering on top of me. Her voice held a swirling cocktail of emotion, and I had no doubt I would see something similar in her eyes if I was brave enough to look.
"Good," I hugged her gently, doing my best to comfort her, one hand on the back of her head and the other wrapped around her waist. "I still like you, you know. I'm not gonna leave you."
This kind of commitment was exactly what I was trying to avoid by delaying our relationship, but that had already backfired, and I knew I wanted to date her eventually regardless, so there was no point in pushing her away any longer. If the relationship ended poorly, so be it. I'd deal with that when the time came—I'd rather commit now if the alternative was to potentially lose her altogether.
Claire sniffled as she nodded into my chest, hugging me tightly before rolling us both onto our sides and snuggling up to me. She reminded me of a classical painting I'd once seen in an art class, holding onto me like a body pillow, a sheen of sweat still clinging to us both as her long brown tresses streamed down her side, reminiscent of laminar water—flowing, yet almost crystalline. A vision of beauty, supple and sensual, despite her dissimilarity to the hourglass plastic models popular in his world, or the muscle-bound strongwomen often advertised in this one.
And I had never thought myself to be the poetic type. Maybe there was something special about her.
Unfortunately, I needed to leave soon. I wouldn't be awake too much longer if we stayed like this, and I'd already been caught by one set of parents recently. I didn't want a repeat performance.
"Hey," I whispered to her, making sure she didn't actually fall asleep on me. She grumbled a bit, not wanting to be disturbed from her rest, but needs must. "Claire."
"What?" she murmured, still doing her best to plant herself firmly in dreamland.
"I've gotta get home. My parents are gonna be worried about me."
"Mm," she hummed noncommittally, making no move to release me.
"Claire, seriously. I need to go," I gently extricated myself from her arms, giving her a sweet kiss on the forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow."
She sighed, disappointed, but made no move to stop me. "Alright. See you tomorrow. Thanks, for—well…."
"Of course," I rubbed the back of her hand with my thumb as a farewell, familiar with the embarrassment that came with having to try and put such complicated feelings into words. "Talk soon."
"You too."
I laid a chaste kiss on her knuckles before slipping out of bed, throwing my clothes on and driving home, a new, unfamiliar feeling fluttering in my stomach.
"Mind if I join you guys?"
Brandon and I looked up from our respective lunches to see Claire standing next to our table, doing her best to project a casual sort of confidence with a paper plate holding a large slice of pizza in hand. I was a little surprised to see her approach us at lunch this week, to be honest. I had spent recess with her every day this past week, but that was only like fifteen minutes a day, and she hadn't really shown any desire to hang out with Brandon and me together. I figured that was because she had her own friends she wanted to spend time with, but maybe she'd wanted to hang out with us all along, and had just been too nervous to say anything about it.
Not that I was any better—I hadn't exactly invited her to join us.
"Yeah, feel free," I smiled at her, sliding over to give her some room while ignoring the look Brandon shot me as I did. She sat down gratefully, wrapping her arm around my waist and pulling me closer, only hesitating for the barest moment before moving into my personal space and giving me a chaste peck on the cheek. I was about to say that someone had finally found their confidence, but it was equally possible that she had been trying to gather the courage to do this over the past few days, and was still at least partially running on the philosophy of "fake it 'til you make it."
I rubbed the small of her back as a sign of approval. From the way she preened, I assumed she got the message.
"So, you two actually going out?" Brandon asked, primarily addressing me.
"Yeah, we made it official," I said, making no move to break from her embrace. Claire backed me up with a nod before taking a bite of her pizza.
He nodded slowly, eyes flicking between us as if trying to solve a puzzle of some kind. "That's great, congrats. She not, like…?"
I shook my head. "Nah, I made the decision."
"…Alright," he intoned in a deliberate manner, pulling his hot pink scarf further down his neck and taking a bite of his own lunch.
A moment of silence stretched between us all, my new girlfriend glancing between us concernedly all the while.
"Oh!" she suddenly changed the subject. "I started reading one of the books you recommended me a few days ago, Killer's Knave? It's really cool so far!"
"Yeah? How far are you?" I asked, though I didn't actually know anything about it. I had thrown her some names of books that were on my shelf when she had asked for recommendations, but I hadn't read most of them yet. I assumed they were good, since my other self still had them in his room, and I often donated any books I didn't like to the local thrift store.
Hopefully I hadn't recommended her any smut. I wasn't sure what my other self was into.
"Only a few chapters in. It's kinda slow, but I really like the…I don't know how to describe it. Like, the writing style of the main girl? Feels like I'm reading some kind of memoir, you know?" she described excitedly.
"Oh, yeah, I read that one, too. It kinda stays slow for most of the book, honestly," Brandon interjected. Suddenly, I was somehow the third wheel in this conversation. I'd have to speed-read a chunk of it tonight just to keep up with them, apparently. "It gets better in book two."
"Yeah, but it established a lot of interesting worldbuilding and stuff, didn't it?" I bullshitted, attempting to sound confident despite the fact that I knew basically nothing about the book. After all, I couldn't just admit I hadn't read it after having recommended it to her in the first place.
"It was alright, but it was mostly the writing style that kept me interested," Brandon disagreed, shrugging his shoulders. "I didn't really care for the setup all that much."
"Yeah, the writing was good, too, but I liked the setup and background. It was very…I don't know…." I made a vague gesture with my hands, allowing them to interpret it however they wished. Better than committing to something that could have been blatantly out of line with the story.
"I get you, yeah, it's like, gripping, but also kinda down to earth," my girlfriend unintentionally saved me. I thanked her in my head. "It's a little disappointing hearing that I won't get to see the payoff, but I liked what it has so far. It's kind of a change of pace from what I normally read."
Brandon stared at her, an unreadable expression on his face, but just as he opened his mouth, he closed it again, cutting himself off before he could say anything, and was back to normal again, as if nothing had happened at all.
"Well, I hope you continue to like it. Like I said, I think it gets a lot better in book two."
Weird.
I nodded along, agreeing with him more in the hopes of mollifying him than anything else. He'd been acting kinda strange since Claire had sat down, and the last thing I wanted was for my friend to feel like a third wheel.
"What about you? Read anything new?" I asked him.
He shrugged, setting his fork down. "I've been reading Emerald Knight for a bit, but I honestly might drop it."
"How come?"
"Mostly the characters," he admitted. "I really liked Eddie's other series, but the characters here just don't give me the same feeling the ones in his other books did. I feel like I don't have that…I don't know, that connection that I had with his other characters. They just don't feel the same."
"Oh, I know what you mean," Claire said, pointing a finger at him excitedly. "Like the characters feel familiar, but like, they're not…right. There's something wrong about 'em."
"Yeah, that's totally it!" Brandon nodded, wide-eyed. "Like they aren't who they feel like they should be. How'd you guess?"
"Oh, comic book characters have that problem all the time. There's been like twenty writers for every character, and only around half of them really care about how they were originally written. The rest either wanna put their own spin on it or write a completely different story. It's super annoying," she explained with a huff.
"Sounds like it sucks," I commiserated.
"Yeah, I can't imagine having to read a series with a different author for every book. That sounds awful," my best friend agreed.
"What about the movies? Those any good?" I asked her.
Claire shrugged. "Some of the animated ones are, but it's the same problem: every movie's got a different writer."
"Hey, I liked the live-action ones," Brandon protested, an affronted expression adorning his face.
"Dea, don't get me started on those," she rolled her eyes at him, which Brandon clearly did not appreciate.
"Well, who made you the judge?" he asked snidely, pointing his fork in her general direction before spearing another bite of food.
"Being someone who actually read the source material," she bit back, even more annoyed. "They watered down all the original stories and cut out a lot of all the more interesting greater scope problems and internal conflicts. It's such surface level shit."
"Oh, and you're the only one who gets to decide what's enjoyable and what isn't?" Brandon asked indignantly, his tone heated.
"I'm the only one with an informed opinion, apparently," Claire snapped, voice rising to meet his. A few heads around them turned to see what was going on.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Hey!" I interrupted, slapping the table to get their attention. They both broke their little staring contest and turned to look at me, guilt and umbrage evenly written across their faces. I returned both of their gazes with a disapproving look. "Quiet down. You're causing a scene."
Both silently returned to their food, still annoyed with each other, but clearly ashamed of their actions.
I sighed, wondering how I wound up stuck in the middle of an argument between the only two people I knew in the entire school. It hadn't even taken a day for them to start fighting.
Maybe this was a bad idea.
"Claire, please don't antagonize my best friend or insult the things he likes," I pleaded with her. "You don't have to like everything he does, but I'd appreciate if you were a little nicer about it."
She nodded jerkily, looking a bit like she'd just taken a shot of lemon juice. Brandon's expression turned a little smug watching me berate her.
"And Brandon," I turned to address him, causing his smirk to immediately fall off his face, "I thought you of all people would understand better. Remember what you thought of that one movie? The one of that book you were really excited about seeing but the film adaptation ended up sucking? What was it called again?"
I was bullshitting him a little, drawing from my own world's experience of Brandon's opinion of a few different adaptations, from The Hobbit trilogy to Percy Jackson. I didn't know any books he liked here, since I hadn't read even half of what was on my own shelf, let alone what was on Brandon's, but if he was anything like the Brandon I knew, then there was at least one series that the film industry ruined for him.
"The Eventide, yeah. Don't remind me," he lamented.
"See? You understand. Some people who didn't read the books liked that movie, didn't they?"
Brandon sighed, resting his cheek on his hand. "Alright, I get it. I'm sorry."
"Thank you. Claire?" I asked, turning to her.
"Yeah, I'm sorry too."
I love it when my friends get along.
The conversation continued along awkwardly until the lunch bell rang and we were forced to pack up and get ready for the next class. Brandon and I both had math, which I could probably goof off for half the class and still be fine. I had a solid enough grade that I could ignore most of the material and still have a decent chance of passing, so rarely did I study beyond some basic note-taking. Which was good, because most of my notebooks were filled with history at this point.
It didn't take long before my phone started buzzing in my pocket. A text from Brandon or Claire, most likely. I glanced over to the other side of the classroom to check, and sure enough, Brandon's phone was out just behind his textbook, screen lit. If the teacher noticed, he didn't seem to care, focused on the lesson as he was.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and quickly dimmed the screen before unlocking it and reading the message.
[Brandon]: You sure about Claire?
I frowned. I kind of expected this, but I was still disappointed that it had come to it.
[Me]: Is this about your argument?
It didn't take long for him to answer.
[Brandon]: I don't know. Just gave me a weird feeling
[Me]: If you say so
In all honesty, I didn't really want to get into it at the moment. I knew their little spat was still fresh in his mind, so he would've lashed out at me if I started arguing with him. It was easier to let him cool off and talk about it after he'd had some time to reflect on it. I shut my screen off and shoved my phone into my pocket, flipping my notes to an open page and turning my attention to the lesson at hand.
Unfortunately, Brandon wasn't so willing to let the conversation drop.
My phone buzzed in my pocket twice, then a third time. I purposely ignored it, but a fourth caused me to give Brandon a look from across the room. Once he was looking back at me, I jerked my head at the teacher, hoping to convey that I was trying to pay attention to the lesson and that he should too, but my only response was for him to send me yet another text.
Already annoyed, I fished my phone back out and looked at his messages.
[Brandon]: No, seriously, I mean it
[Brandon]: She kept giving me that stare like she wanted me to leave or something
[Brandon]: Like I was getting in the way
[Brandon]: Hey, this is important
I sighed at the last one.
[Brandon]: I know you don't actually care about math class. Don't ignore me
[Me]: She probably just isn't comfortable around you yet. It isn't a big deal
[Me]: We can talk about it after school
It was dismissive, sure, but I needed some time to gather my thoughts before I talked about this, and focusing on the class would give Brandon some time to cool off as well. The guy I knew wasn't ever one to hold a grudge, and I was hoping that that held true for this version of him as well.
After two more minutes without a response, I assumed he was willing to play ball and turned my attention back to the teacher.
Class flew by quickly, and I had nearly forgotten about the issue by the time the bell rang. I threw my books back in my bag, ready to storm out and head home for the day, but was stopped by a pointed look from Brandon from across the classroom. He held my gaze for a moment before looking pointedly at the parking lot out the window, then back at me again. I nodded and gave him a thumbs up, refusing to let my displeasure show on my face, before joining the throng of students streaming out into the main hall and out of the building.
Making my way over to my car, I threw my backpack in the trunk and flopped into the driver's seat, still dreading the impending conversation a bit, but leaving the passenger door unlocked regardless. I was still holding out hope that Brandon had cooled off and this wasn't going to be a big deal, but the look on his face as he approached didn't exactly fill me with confidence.
"Hey," he greeted me sullenly as he sat down in the passenger's seat, backpack at his feet. His mint green top stood out prominently against the all-black interior of my car, accentuated by the now-unzipped white fleece jacket that he'd been wearing all day. I supposed the closed jacket had made his outfit feel more familiar to me, so I didn't take much note of it but the blouse underneath was not at all what I would have guessed he'd been wearing, and this was the first time I'd seen it today, so it really threw me for a loop.
"Hey," I returned, refusing to acknowledge the outfit. I doubted anything I said about it would be taken well, positive or negative. "So, you don't like her?"
Brandon sighed, clearly struggling to put whatever he was feeling into words. "…I dunno. Sorry, I don't mean to be a bastard about it, but I just got this…vibe from her—"
"Oh, yeah, the vibe, totally," I nodded facetiously.
"Shut up, Jason," he snarked back. "I'm serious. Like the way she sat down with us, it felt like she was trying to force herself into the group and push me out, y'know? It was like she didn't want you to talk to anyone else. Like she was trying to isolate you or something."
I sighed, slumping back in my seat. I understood where he was coming from, but I also understood that this wasn't entirely about my new girlfriend: he was ultimately concerned about me. And I got it, I did. I'd be concerned if my best friend got head trauma, started dating a girl he hadn't ever interacted with before said injury and acted like nothing had changed, too. But he just didn't have the full context, and I couldn't even begin to try and explain the situation without him thinking that I needed a full psych eval.
Or worse, telling my parents.
"Look," I tried to level with him, "I understand you're concerned. I get it, I really do. But she's not looking to control me or anything. We talked things over earlier this week. Set terms for our relationship and everything. And if she breaks them, I can always walk away. She's probably just awkward around people she doesn't know very well. She hasn't had a lot of friends at school before."
Brandon didn't seem convinced. "What were the terms?"
"Huh?"
"For your relationship. What were the terms?" he repeated.
"Uh, y'know, standard relationship stuff," I hedged. Now that I thought about it, we hadn't discussed the relationship itself as much as the pride dynamics. "We try dating properly instead of being just…" I gestured vaguely. "Yeah. And if one of us doesn't like it, we can walk away, can't force each other into anything the other doesn't want, and if I bring any other girls into the relationship, she has to okay them first. Beyond that, we both just kinda give it our best shot."
Brandon blinked, taken aback. "Other girls? You were serious about the pride thing?"
I shrugged. "Maybe. I dunno yet."
"Huh," he gave me an odd look. "Aren't her parents rich, though? Why would you want another girlfriend?"
"You're telling me you'd turn down a threesome with two girls?" I turned the question back on him. I had a feeling I knew the answer as soon as the words left my mouth, but hearing it from him directly would still help me get a better picture of this version of him.
"I don't think I could handle two girls in bed. Sounds like way too much work."
"Skill issue," I joked, grinning. "Couldn't be me."
Brandon rolled his eyes at me. "Sure, whatever."
We were both silent for a few moments. I felt a little uncomfortable as it stretched on, but he seemed ever so slightly less concerned than when he first stepped into the car, so I counted it as a win.
"…What happens if it doesn't work out?" He eventually asked, eyes on the fidgeting hands firmly planted in his lap.
I shrugged. "Then we break up. Like I said."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that," I confirmed. "If we gave it our best shot and it wasn't meant to be, then it is what it is. I won't have any regrets."
"We both know breakups are never that clean. Someone always catches feelings, and it's always messy when it all falls apart," he disagreed.
"And I can always just block her and walk away," I countered.
"You'll still have to see her at school," he pointed out.
"I can ignore her here, too."
"And what happens when she doesn't give you the option?" Brandon asked heatedly, his voice hitching with worry. It felt like we were back at square one. "What happens when she forces the issue in front of everyone?"
"Then I punch her in the face and report her for sexual harassment. It's not a big deal," I drawled. Was his main concern just peer pressure? Had he forgotten that I basically don't know anyone else in the entire school? "And I doubt it'll come to that, anyway. Claire wouldn't do something like that."
"You sure?" he warbled.
"Yeah."
"…Alright, fine," he reluctantly accepted. "I trust you."
"Thanks," I told him appreciatively,
"…And you really aren't doing this for the money?"
I threw my hands in the air, exasperated. "Why do people keep asking about money? Why would I care?"
Brandon blinked, looking at me like I had been concussed again. "Well, you mentioned you were going for a pride."
"What the fuck does a—" I began, before cutting myself off as the implications hit me like a sack of bricks. Wives were traditionally the breadwinners of society. They brought in the most money. More wives meant more money, but at the cost of having to manage more than one wife. Suddenly, I could see where Claire and Brandon were coming from. "Oh. Nevermind."
"Wait, seriously? Did you not know?" Brandon exclaimed in honest disbelief. On his face was quite possibly the most baffled expression I'd ever seen in my life. He looked ready to burst out laughing. "You actually forgot about the whole 'financial security' part? That's like, the whole reason to make a pride the first place!"
"Uhh…" I stalled, scratching the back of my head in embarrassment. "No comment."
This time, he actually did burst out laughing. "Holy shit, Jason! There's no way!"
"Hey, listen, man," I tried to defend myself over his howling laughter. "In my defense, I was a little preoccupied when Claire and I were talking all this over."
"With what?"
I grinned mischievously. "Well, we were in her bed…."
"Okay, eww, TMI," he complained, shoving his hand in my face in mock disgust. "I don't need to know all the details."
"I'll keep that in mind," I mumbled around his hand.
"But seriously, you're really gonna try and get multiple girls just for sex?" he followed up, almost morbidly curious. A mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes as he stared eagerly into mine.
I shrugged, pushing his hand off my face "I mean, not just for sex," I hedged, carefully not saying no to his question.
"Damn, Jason. That is not what I expected from you," he admitted.
"It's not a guarantee or anything," I waved him off, trying to alleviate his concerns, but he just gave me the "there's-no-way-you're-actually-that-stupid" look again.
"Uh-huh," he clearly didn't believe me. "The fact that you're talking about it at all means it's basically a guarantee at this point. I know you. You wouldn't be this open about it if you weren't."
"Maybe I've changed."
"What, did you go through a second puberty or something?" he joked.
"…Is that a thing?"
And the look was back.
"No, that's not a thing. Are you sure you don't need to be checked out again?"
"I was just joking," I played it off, as if I hadn't just asked something monumentally stupid. I was glad I didn't have to take biology or anatomy in senior year, because apparently I'd be failing those, too.
"Sure," he agreed facetiously, allowing me to keep what few remaining shreds of dignity I still had. "Well, I appreciate you talking to me about this. I worry about you, man."
"I understand. Thanks for lookin' out for me," I shot him a smile. "And sorry for making you worry."
"Don't apologize, we both know you're gonna do it again," he scoffed playfully.
"Well, yeah, but I'm still sorry about it."
"Just not sorry enough to not repeat it," he accused without any heat.
I shrugged, giving him my best "what-can-you-do" impression.
"I'll try and keep you in mind next time."
Brandon sighed long-sufferingly, as if I'd asked him to help me write my finals essay again.
"Well, I gotta get home," he stated, opening the car door and swinging his legs out. "My sister's probably waiting for me."
"Alright, man, see you tomorrow," I told him, holding my fist out towards him. He gave me an odd look for a second, and I realized I had probably committed a bit of a social faux pas, but backing out now would only make it more awkward, so I decided to commit anyway.
He reciprocated the fist bump, and I gave him a large grin.
"So long," he smiled back, before closing the car door behind him.
I sat back in my seat, exhaling as if I'd just unloaded a bag of concrete from my shoulders. I'd survived the day without all my relationships imploding, by some miracle. Hopefully, that meant the hard part was over, and they'd start to integrate a little more easily. I didn't need them to become best friends, but I would prefer if they didn't hate each other.
The car started with a quiet hum, rumbling gently against my back like a contented cat as I shifted into gear, exited the lot and headed home. Brandon's words echoed in my mind the entire drive.
I had a lot to think about tonight.