I grunt something that could pass for “no problem,” though it feels like lying.
Tyler leans forward between the seats, still texting with one hand, grinning like we just came back from the best night of his life.
“So,” he says, “what’d you think of my friends?”
I snort under my breath.
“Fine.”
Short. Flat.
Maybe he’ll take the hint.
He doesn’t.
“C’mon,” he nudges. “Be honest. You’ve never been the polite type.”
I exhale through my nose, jaw working.
I’m trying.
I’m trying not to snap his neck like a damn twig for being this oblivious.
But he keeps pushing.
So finally, I glance at him in the mirror and say, voice low and sharp,
“Why do you hang out with people who bully your girlfriend?”
He blinks.
Like the idea genuinely never occurred to him,
“C’mon, man,” he says with a laugh, brushing it off. “They’re like that with everyone. That’s just how they are. They don’t mean anything by it.”
My hands tighten on the wheel.
He doesn’t get it.
He didn’t see Penny’s face every time Rebecca opened her mouth.
Didn’t see the way she folded smaller, quieter, until it looked like she was trying to vanish.
And he calls that normal?
Tyler keeps going, oblivious
And yeah, okay, some of their words are harsh. But, like… once they get to know her, they’ll like her. She’s incredible.*
He says it so easily.
Like it’s inevitable.
?
Like it’s guaranteed that the world will eventually see what he sees.
And maybe they will.
But Penny shouldn’t have to earn basic respect.
She shouldn’t have to survive it first.
I don’t say any of that.
Instead, I stare at the road ahead, feeling something cold and ugly unspool in my chest.
Because he’s right about one thing.
She is incredible.
And he’s too blind to see he doesn’t deserve her.
We pull up to her house – small, neat, porch light glowing like a little beacon in the dark.
I put the car in park, engine humming low, headlights casting long shadows across the driveway.
Tyler shifts behind me, pulling out his phone again.
“One sec,” he mutters, thumbs flying across the screen.
Setting up his next party, probably.
Booking his next night of pretending to care.
I look at Penny again.
She’s still out.
Still breathing slow and even against the window, the condensation from her breath fogging a soft halo around her head.
I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until my chest starts to ache.
I let it out slow, feeling something raw and/broken gnawing at the inside of my ribs,
For a second- just a second-
I imagine reaching over.
Unbuckling her seatbelt.
Scooping her up.
Carrying her inside.
Tucking her under warm blankets.
Making sure no one ever made her feel small again.
For a second, I let myself want it.
Then Tyler ruins it.
He reaches between the seats fast, careless and shakes her by the shoulder. Hard.
“Penny, babe. Wake up.”
She jolts, blinking rapidly, her hands fumbling at the seatbelt.
It takes her a full ten seconds to figure out where she is, her face flushed and confused in the light.
I stare straight ahead, gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing tethering me to this seat.
Who the fuck wakes someone up like that?
“Hey, you’re home, Tyler says brightly, like he didn’t just yank her out of the only safe place she had all night.
Penny rubs her eyes, groggy, blinking against the porch light.
Then she turns and even half-asleep, dazed, probably still shaking from being yanked awake – she manages a small, tired smile.
“Thanks for driving us,” she says softly.
I nod once, sharp and tight, unable to get words out without setting something on fire.
She climbs out of the car, backpack sliding off one shoulder, the porch light catching in her hair.
Tyler grabs his own bag from the floor.
Before he can open the door, I say
“You couldn’t’ve carried her inside?” low and harsh
He freezes, one hand on the handle.
Turns slowly, confusion written all over his face.
Then he laughs.
Actually laughs.
“Nah, man,” he says, grinning. “She’s kinda heavy.
The words land like a fist to the gut. Heavy? Her? I could bet both my kidneys that she’s not. Not at all.
My vision blurs for a second, rage pounding behind my eyes. fle catches the look on my face and raises both hands in surrender,
‘I’m kidding! Jesus. Plus, I figured she’d hate waking up confused in her bed, I was being nice. Don’t wait up for me tonight, if you know what ! mean.”
He winks
Hve winks and slips out of the car.
I watch him jog up the driveway to catch up with her.
Wrap an arm casually around her shoulders.
Watch her let him.
Watch them disappear into the house together, the front door clicking shut behind them like the slam of a prison gate.
I sit there.
Breathing hard.
Hands clenching and unclenching on the wheel.
Fighting the urge to tear the steering wheel out of the dashboard.
She’s not mine.
She never was.
She never will be.
I told myself to stay away.
I shift into reverse, backing out of the driveway fast enough to make the tires squeal on the wet pavement.
The night swallows me up – cold and dark and endless – and I let it.
Because it’s better than what I really want to do.
By the time we get inside, I’m still half-asleep..
The car ride knocked something loose in my brain that kind of drowsy fog you get when you nap just a little too long and now reality feels like it’s moving at the wrong speed.
Tyler shuts the front door behind us, kicks off his shoes, and leads me by the hand to the living room.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.