CHAPTER 8
The car started, gliding smoothly onto the road. The hum of the engine was steady, almost hypnotic, and I pressed my forehead lightly against the glass.
Outside, the streetlights passed by in a slow, comforting rhythm, their reflections stretching and bending like liquid gold over the windowpane. My mind, however, was nowhere near calm.
Why in the world had I asked Zack to drive me home?
The question kept looping in my head. I hadn't planned it. I hadn't weighed the consequences. The words had slipped out almost unconsciously, carried by a mix of impulse and… something I wasn't ready to name.
Maybe it was because of Berry, I thought, and immediately felt guilty for even considering it.
No—Zack would never do anything to hurt me. Still, the suspicion lingered, quiet but sharp, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts.
I stared at the passing lights, feeling the blur of the outside world but not really seeing it. My hands rested in my lap, clutching my bag, mind floating somewhere far from the present.
"Hey."
Zack's voice cut through the fog, gentle and grounding.
I blinked, turning toward him. "Yeah?"
"You okay?" he asked. His tone was soft but steady, like he could feel the weight of my thoughts without needing to be told.
"I've been talking to you for a while now."
I forced a small smile.
"Oh—sorry," I said quickly. "I was just… thinking about something else."
He tilted his head, eyebrows raising slightly. "About something serious?" His half-smile carried a teasing warmth.
I sighed, shaking my head slightly. The truth felt too fragile to speak. "It's nothing," I whispered. "Forget it."
He studied me for a moment, silent but patient. Finally, he nodded. "Alright. If you say so."
A calm silence settled over the car for a few seconds, comfortable, almost companionable.
Then he shifted in his seat, a small smirk tugging at his lips.
"So," he said casually, "what do you think about my car?"
I blinked, finally taking in the interior. The leather seats were immaculate, the dashboard polished to a soft gleam, and the air inside smelled faintly of new car scent.
"It's wonderful," I said honestly, a smile breaking across my face. "I really love it. It's amazing."
He grinned, though there was a subtle flicker in his eyes I couldn't quite read. "Thanks. My dad gifted me this when I was fifteen, for my birthday," he said, his voice carrying a mix of pride and nostalgia.
I gasped softly. "Wow. Your dad gave this to you when you were fifteen? That's… incredible!"
He laughed lightly. "Yeah, though I didn't have a driver's license yet. So, he gave me a personal driver, Mr. Robin—who's actually driving us right now."
I turned slightly to glance at the front seat. Mr. Robin, the driver, caught my eye, smiled, and gave a small nod. "Looks like young Master Zack has made a girlfriend," he said, his tone playful but pointed.
My face went red instantly, heat rushing to my cheeks. I glanced at Zack, who was blinking rapidly, and then met his gaze.
His cheeks were pink too. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the silence between us breaking into mutual laughter.
"We're just friends," Zack said quickly, holding up his hands as if that could explain everything.
Mr. Robin chuckled softly. "Of course," he said, returning his focus to the road. "I would never presume otherwise."
I let out a small, embarrassed laugh, shaking my head at the teasing. "You're terrible," I muttered to Zack.
He grinned, shrugging as if it was the funniest thing in the world.
After a moment, Zack shifted his gaze toward me again, looking a little nervous this time. "So… Jane," he said, voice soft, "do you have any siblings?" His eyebrows shot up as if the answer mattered more than usual.
"Yes," I replied. "I have two siblings, and I'm the youngest of all of them."
His jaw dropped slightly, and he gasped. "What? Youngest?"
I laughed, teasing lightly. "Yeah. Why, does it sound like something hit you out of nowhere?"
He shook his head slowly, still stunned. "I'm the oldest among my siblings."
I blinked, jaw dropping in return. "What?"
"Now you look like something else," he teased, and I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in days.
For a long while after that, we talked about everything and nothing. Movies, school, teachers who made exams unnecessarily difficult.
Even a few random topics—the kind of conversations you have when you feel unexpectedly at ease with someone. Zack's laughter came easily, his stories flowing naturally, and I felt myself relaxing into the rhythm of it.
The world outside seemed to fade, the car turning quiet and intimate in its own way.
Before I realized it, my neighborhood appeared in the distance. My house came into view, lights glowing warmly through the windows. A pang of reluctance struck me—I didn't want this ride to end.
I packed my bag quietly, heart thudding with anticipation and nervousness. As I reached for the door handle, Zack's voice stopped me.
"Hey."
I turned, brow slightly raised, curiosity prickling.
His hands were gripping the seatbelt tightly.
His chest rose and fell in a rhythm I hadn't noticed before, a subtle sign of his own nervousness. He swallowed audibly, then asked, "Can I… get your phone number?"
Shock hit me instantly, a jolt running straight to my chest. My mouth went dry. For a long moment, I couldn't respond.
"Sure," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.
We exchanged numbers quickly, the process smooth yet somehow monumental in its own way.
My fingers lingered over my phone, feeling the subtle warmth of possibility. I smiled softly, walking toward the door with a giddy, almost weightless step.
Inside, my house felt familiar but suddenly sharp with awareness. As soon as I entered, my eyes fell on Victor.
His presence was sudden, commanding, almost predatory. My body froze instinctively. His gaze, sharp and unyielding, felt as if it could see straight into me, unraveling every thought I had tried to hide.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, my body trembling as though the room itself were too small for the weight of my fear.
"It's okay, Jane," he said, calm and unbothered, and left without a word more.
I exhaled shakily, trying to steady my racing heart. Why was he here? The mere thought sent another shiver down my spine.
I shook my head and moved further inside, seeing my grandmother smiling softly in the living room.
My mother stood nearby, watching me with a knowing look.
I asked her quietly why Victor had been here, and she explained simply that I had left a book on my table, and he had gone to return it.
It made sense, yet my chest still felt tight. I nodded silently and moved toward my room, trying to let the tension slip away.
Once inside, I saved Zack's number into my phone, staring at it for a long moment.
Just seeing it there, solid and real, made a small smile tug at my lips.
My fingers traced over it unconsciously, like holding onto a piece of calm in the chaos of the day.
Later, my phone buzzed softly.
"Hey, Jane," came his familiar voice, warm and comforting.
I smiled, fingers moving quickly over the screen, my heart skipping at the simple joy of talking to him.
We talked about everything—the dinner, our families, random thoughts about school.
I even snuck messages under the table during dinner, trying not to laugh too loudly, feeling a secret thrill in our conversation.
"Jane," Alex said suddenly, suspicion laced in his tone, "what are you doing under there?"
"Nothing!" I blurted, cheeks flaming red. My heart raced with excitement and embarrassment all at once.
Everyone noticed, but it didn't matter.
After dinner, I retreated to my room.
Zack called again, and we spoke for hours—small talk, laughter, quiet moments of connection that felt heavier with meaning than words could convey.
Sleep came slowly, my mind replaying the gentle warmth of his attention, the light teasing, the ease of companionship.
The door opened softly, and my mother stepped in, brushing back my hair from my forehead and tucking me under a blanket.
"For the first time in a long while," I whispered to myself as I drifted into sleep, "I'm finally at peace."