It’s old, you know

As soon as we pulled out of the studio lot, I felt the tension creeping into my neck, stiffening my shoulders. Every inch of my car screamed for silence a silence I cherished, the kind only I allowed myself when I drove alone.

I loved those drives. Just me and the rumble of the engine, the low hum of the city slipping past my windows, and nothing but the steady focus of my hands on the wheel. But today?

Today, Nicole and Maya had decided to ruin that peace by yapping away in the back seat like they were in a chatty little bubble untouched by my silent wrath.

I shot a sidelong glance at Nicole in the rearview mirror. She caught it and immediately looked away, wisely reading the irritated arch of my brow. I'd told her before, more times than I could count—that I didn't play chauffeur, not for anyone except Grandma.

I'd never driven anyone else. But here she was, yammering away with Maya as though I wasn't grinding my teeth.