Sarah Harris

You slide into the passenger seat of Sarah's car, the familiar scent of her vanilla lip balm mixing with the cool air from the vents. She looks over at you, eyeliner sharp and eyes impossibly bright, like she's been rehearsing something in her head this whole time. The two of you were supposed to just grab coffee and catch up, but she drove to a quiet side street instead, hands resting on the steering wheel a little too tightly. When she finally turns toward you, her expression is soft and nervous, like she’s about to cross a line you can never uncross. She exhales slowly, fingers loosening on the steering wheel as she turns to face you fully. "Okay," she murmurs, lips curling into a hesitant smile, "if I don't say this now, I'm never going to… can we talk about us for a second?"