Heartstrings | Johnny Lawrence x (y/n) | 1984 |

| 34 | Ride

The drive home was a blast, even though the sun had dipped lower and the evening chill was settling in, sending little shivers through you. Johnny had the music cranked up, and the Cobras were all yelling over each other, debating what songs to play next. The vibe was pure energy—no one was ready for the night to end.

"Alright, who's next?" Johnny called, glancing over his shoulder with a grin as Bobby handed you the AUX cable.

"Oh, it's my turn," you said, smirking as the Cobras cheered you on. You scrolled through your playlist, picking a song you knew you'd nail, and as soon as the beat kicked in, you let your voice loose. Singing each note with heart, you could feel every eye in the car on you, admiring your performance.

"You sound amazing!" Bobby shouted over the music.

"She could go pro, no joke!" Tommy added, clapping his hands to the beat. Even Dutch gave you an approving nod, and Johnny, well, his smile was hard to miss in the rearview mirror.

When the song ended, the Cobras erupted into cheers and applause, Johnny tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel. "Didn't know we had a rockstar with us," he teased, eyes flashing with that familiar gleam.

By the time he dropped each Cobra off at home, the night had darkened fully, but you couldn't shake the warmth from the beach day and the fun car ride. When Johnny finally pulled up at your place, you gave him a small smile and thanked him before heading inside.

The chill from the beach had gotten to you, so after a hot shower, you slipped into your coziest pajamas and fell into bed, sighing into the soft sheets.

But just as you were about to drift off, there was a soft tapping on your window. Your heart raced a little—you knew only one person who'd try your window this late. You threw on a sweatshirt, crept over, and slowly pulled the curtain back.

Sure enough, Johnny was there, looking a little guilty but hopeful, hands shoved in his pockets.

"Johnny? What're you doing here?" you whispered, cracking open the window.

He gave a little shrug, trying to downplay the effort. "Couldn't stop thinking about you. And, you know... wanted to make sure you weren't mad at me. Plus, I figured I owed you another proper goodbye."

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. "Well, here I am. What kind of goodbye were you thinking of?"

He glanced down, then back up with a soft grin. "Mind if I come in? Or, you can come out here and we can talk." He paused, looking a little embarrassed. "Didn't realize it'd be this cold."

With a quick laugh, you gestured him inside, and as he climbed through the window, you couldn't help but shake your head at his persistence. But as he settled next to you, something in his gaze softened, and he finally said, "Today was fun, you know? Haven't had that much of a laugh in a while. Thought maybe... we could do it again sometime."

The way he looked at you, a mixture of hope and apology, made you realize just how much he'd been missing your company. And as you sat side by side, wrapped up in the warmth of the moment, it was hard to stay mad—if only for tonight.

—

You looked Johnny over, noticing the faint layer of sand on his skin and the dampness in his hair from the beach. You sighed, softening despite your best efforts to stay indifferent.

"Alright, you can take a shower if you want," you said, gesturing toward the bathroom. "I still have some of your clothes you left here from last time."

Johnny's face lit up in surprise, but he quickly tried to cover it with a casual nod. "Really? Thought you would've burned those by now."

Rolling your eyes, you pulled out an old shirt and pair of sweats you'd tucked away in your dresser for way too long. "Just... hurry up before I change my mind."

He took the clothes from you with a small, grateful smile, disappearing into the bathroom. As soon as you heard the water running, you found yourself alone with your thoughts, and despite your best efforts to ignore it, you couldn't help but pull out the box under your bed with old photos. Nostalgia tugged at you as you looked through each picture—summer days, late nights, moments that once felt like they'd last forever.

Thirty minutes later, the bathroom door creaked open, and Johnny stepped out, rubbing a towel over his damp hair, his gaze falling on you just as you were holding a photo of the two of you laughing at the lake. He paused, taking in the scene with a soft look in his eyes.

"Looking at old memories?" he asked quietly, walking over. He didn't wait for you to answer; instead, he eased down next to you on the bed, glancing at the photo in your hand. "I remember that day. You pushed me off the dock, remember?"

You let out a small laugh, nodding. "Yeah, and you tried to drag me down with you. We must've spent an hour laughing and splashing around."

Johnny shook his head with a faint smile. "Feels like a lifetime ago, doesn't it?"

You met his gaze, feeling a warmth creep into your cheeks. "Yeah... it does."

The room grew quiet, and for a moment, he simply watched you, as if seeing you in a way he hadn't before. Then, without warning, he took your hand and led you onto the bed, guiding you both to sit facing each other. He looked down, his expression conflicted.

"I messed up," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but... I just want you to know I'm sorry. I should've never made you feel that way."

You took a shaky breath, feeling the weight of his words settle around you. "Johnny... you hurt me. I trusted you, and you broke that."

He nodded, his jaw clenching as he listened. "I know. I don't expect it to be easy, but I'm here, and I'll do anything to make it right. Anything."

Before you could respond, he leaned in closer, his hand reaching up to cup your face, thumb brushing gently along your cheek. His eyes searched yours, and you could see the vulnerability in them, something he rarely showed.

"Let me make it up to you," he murmured, voice low, and before you knew it, he was leaning in, pressing his lips to yours in a tender, heartfelt kiss. It wasn't just a kiss of apology—it was filled with all the things he hadn't said, all the regret and longing, all the things he wanted to fix.

You felt yourself melt into it, your hand instinctively finding its way to his shoulder. Johnny deepened the kiss, moving slowly, as if savoring every second, letting his emotions pour through. He shifted, gently pushing you down onto the bed, hovering over you but keeping his touch gentle, as if afraid you might disappear.

"I never wanted to hurt you," he murmured against your lips. "I'd do anything to take it back."

You let your fingers trace lightly over his jawline, feeling the way he was practically trembling above you. "Johnny... you really messed up," you whispered, a small, shaky smile breaking through.

He nodded, letting out a quiet, pained chuckle. "I know. But I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere until you know how much you mean to me."

And with that, he leaned in again, his lips finding yours, soft and unhurried, as if trying to make up for every hurt, every disappointment. The night stretched on, with words, whispers, and the warmth of a rekindled connection that left you both clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be right again.