Breakaway

contrite

contrite (adj.): feeling or expressing remorse or penitence; affected by guilt.

Olivia

Of course, the silence in the car doesn't last long.

"Olivia," Bennett says, looking ahead at the road.

"You agreed not to talk, Bennett," I say, looking out the window. I hear him sigh.

"I know. But I would really like to explain myself to you," he says desperately, glancing over at me.

"Bennett, look out!" I scream, shutting my eyes.

A huge deer runs out into the middle of the road and stops directly in front of us.

Bennett swerves the car quickly, dodging the deer but losing control of the vehicle, causing us to spin out.

After what feels like forever but is probably only a few seconds, I feel the car stop spinning. I hesitantly open my eyes and thank God that we didn't flip. We are facing the opposite direction but are luckily on the shoulder of the road and not against oncoming traffic.

"Bennett?" I breathe. He has his face buried in his hands and he's shaking uncontrollably.

"No, no, no. Not again," he whispers, shaking his head.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, it wasn't your fault," I say, unbuckling and scooting over to the middle seat. "We're okay. No one's hurt."

His body continues to shake and I realise that he's having a panic attack. I pull his hands away from his face and move even closer to him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"I'm right here," I whisper. "You're okay. It's okay."

He wraps his arms around my waist and accepts my hug, burring his face in my neck. I hold him until he finally stops shaking and his breathing slows down, and then a little longer after that. It helps my heart rate slow, too. That was really scary.

While I sit here holding onto Bennett, I know that he's obviously going through something difficult in his life. Although there's no excuse for the way he spoke to me at the ice cream shop, I decide to forgive him. I know that whatever he's dealing with is bigger than me, and he does seem genuinely sorry for hurting my feelings. I am a huge believer in second chances.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, lifting his head up but not fully pulling away yet. "I had no right to speak to you the way I did. It wasn't about you. I have some personal things going on with my family and- Well, it doesn't matter. Either way, you didn't deserve that and I'm sorry."

I take in his words.

"Thank you," I say lowly, bringing my hand up and running it through his hair, admiring how soft it is.

Our eyes meet and I naturally lean in closer to him. His after shave smells delicious.

"Olivia," he whispers.

"Hm?" I mumble.

"I can't do this," he says quietly, a sadness in his eyes.

"I just wanna get to know you," I say, leaning my forehead against his and closing my eyes. Bennett and I don't know each other well, but it feels like there's a magnet that pulls me towards him.

Maybe it's his intoxicating smell.

Maybe it's the way he's already looking at me every time I look at him.