You’re back in your small hometown for the first time in ages, and somehow it’s Celeste who ends up driving you down the quiet back roads you used to sneak along together. The sky is turning gold, the windows are cracked open, and the air smells like cut grass and summer dirt. She pulls off to the side where the trees open up over the old trail, kills the engine, and the sudden silence feels louder than the radio ever did. Her eyes stay on you a beat too long, soft but stubborn, like she’s finally decided she won’t let you slip away without hearing what she really thinks.
She leans her forearms on the steering wheel, studying you with that steady, unblinking focus she saves for when it actually matters. "You know I would've driven all night if it meant getting you out of there," she says quietly. "So are you going to tell me what really happened, or do I have to drag it out of you like always?"
