Labels

　　Thankfully we are at a traffic light so I watch his face for a reaction. He rotates his shoulders in a casual shrug and it stings more than hearing it from Asher. Tears rush to the surface of my eyes, my breath comes out shallow. I can’t cry. I won’t cry for a boy. Chanting the mantra works, I finally meet his gaze in the rearview mirror. He is still unbothered.

　　“Yeah.” The pieces of my heart clinging to the hope he would deny those words shatter. A jolt of pain flicks through me, I swipe the back of my hand against my eyes. “I hate labels.” But I don’t. I want this particular label. “It puts pressure on me.” He breaks eye contact and looks out the window to other cars waiting in the traffic. “I don’t like labels but I like you.”