𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐬 ━━ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥

ᴛʜɪʀᴛᴇᴇɴ

chapter thirteen — wait through your phases

The drive to Penacony was smooth, filled with golden highway light and just enough classic rock to hum along to. Warm air funnelled in through the windows. 

Y/N had insisted on driving, and Boothill didn't argue. He leaned back in the passenger seat, boots crossed at the ankles, long legs taking up more than their fair share of space. He looked perfectly at home there, like he belonged in the city-bound car of a girl he'd known less than a season.

"Darlin'," Boothill started, turning his head and squinting at the speedometer. "Ya drive slower than an old lady on her way back to the nursing home."

Y/N shot him a glare over her sunglasses. "Funny. But I'd rather drive like an old lady than feel my stomach in my throat every time we hit a pothole."

"I drive fine." Boothill crossed his arms.

"I didn't say anything about your driving, but if the shoe fits." Y/N shrugged.

They bantered like that the whole way there, stopping once for coffee and once more because Boothill wanted to take a picture of a billboard shaped like a banana. He said it was the funniest thing he'd seen in weeks. Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled anyway.

Penacony appeared on the horizon like a concrete mirage—neon lights, glass windows, and a constant hum of motion. As soon as they hit downtown, the difference in pace was obvious. The noise was louder, the air thicker, more rushed. Boothill glanced around like he was trying to find the edges of it all.

"Well," Y/N said as she pulled into the parking garage under her apartment building. "Welcome to the city."

She led him through her place—spotless, almost painfully sparse, as if no one actually lived there—except for the single photograph of her parents above the fireplace.

"Don't mean to sound rude," Boothill said, eyeing the empty space, "but how can ya afford this place? Far as I know, ya don't have a job."

"I had a job, but it was a small place, went under a few months ago," Y/N replied. "I get by on my inheritance. My parents were wealthy, so I got a pretty sizeable trust when they passed."

Technically, she shouldn't have been able to access the money until she was eighteen. But when her aunt kicked her out at sixteen, Y/N was emancipated and received it early. That's how she managed to live on her own for so many years.

Her aunt still helped out sometimes—she even cosigned Y/N's first lease—but it never erased the wound of being cast out by the only family she'd ever known. She'd moved twice since then, signed her own leases, and now saw her aunt only rarely.

Being back in her apartment reminded Y/N just how alone she was in this city. But she didn't feel as alone with Boothill here.

She pushed the thoughts from her mind and decided to show Boothill around Penacony some more. He looked almost comically out of place among the expensive foreign cars and designer stores, but he didn't say a word about it.

They ate at her favourite diner, where Y/N introduced him to the best curly fries in the city and a smoothie so thick it broke two straws. As the sun dipped behind the skyline, painting the glass towers in shades of lavender and peach, Y/N leaned her elbows on the table and grinned at him.