𝐂𝐇𝐋𝐎𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓 the embodiment of sunshine, always with a bright smile and an easy laugh. She was the one everyone turned to, the friend who never faltered, always radiating positivity. But behind that cheerful exterior, how much darkne...
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I was teaching Chloe how to drive. Teaching was a strong word, though—more like clinging to dear life while she turned a perfectly functional vehicle into a death trap. Chloe was good at everything, almost annoyingly so. She could outsmart anyone, out-charm a room, and pull off a debate like she was born for it. But cars? Cars were her kryptonite. I'd never been more terrified of anything in my life, and I'd been tackled by linebackers twice my size on the field.
She sat in the driver's seat, her blonde hair pulled into a ponytail that swayed with every exaggerated motion of her head. Her hands gripped the steering wheel like it might bite her, her nails clicking nervously against the plastic as she turned to me with wide, innocent eyes.
"Okay," I said, trying to sound calm, though I was clutching my seatbelt so hard my knuckles were white. "First things first. Before you pull out, you need to check your rearview mirror and your side mirrors. You know, to make sure no one's behind you or in your blind spot."
"Why?" she asked, dead serious. "Do I look bad?"
She flipped the rearview mirror toward herself, ignoring the parking lot entirely, and started inspecting her reflection. I stared in disbelief as she adjusted a strand of hair and dabbed at her lip gloss with her finger.
"Chloe," I said, voice tight. "You look perfect."
Her lips curved into a small, pleased smile. "Aww, thanks, Jayden."
"That's not the point," I snapped, gripping the handle of the door for dear life. "The mirror isn't for checking your makeup, sunshine. It's to make sure you don't kill someone when you back out."
She blinked at me, her smile dropping into a sheepish grin. "Right. Got it. Safety first." She flipped the mirror back into place, looking about as convinced as a kid who just got told vegetables taste better than candy.
"Okay," I said, exhaling slowly. "Now put the car in reverse. And this time, slowly—"
Before I could finish my sentence, Chloe slammed the gear shift into reverse with more confidence than skill. The car jolted backward, and I was pretty sure my soul left my body for a moment. She hit the brakes abruptly, the momentum throwing me forward in my seat.
"Like that?" she asked, looking at me with those big blue eyes like she didn't just take five years off my life.
"Not like that," I said, my voice an octave higher than usual. "Smooth. Controlled. You know, like you're not trying to recreate a stunt scene in an action movie."
She bit her lip, trying to stifle a laugh. "You're so dramatic."
"I'm dramatic?" I asked, gesturing wildly to the windshield. "You nearly gave me whiplash, Chloe. I've taken harder hits on the field, but at least there I know what's coming."
She rolled her eyes but tried again, this time easing into the gas. The car moved backward, somewhat smoothly this time, and I allowed myself to relax. A little.
