. The drive felt like drowning. Not the violent kind no splashing, no thrashing. The quiet kind. The kind where the water closes over your head and everything goes muffled and slow and heavy, and you realize too late that you should have fought harder. Julian drove like he was trying to outrun something inside himself. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles had gone white, veins standing out like cords under his skin. His jaw was locked, muscle jumping every time he swallowed, like his body was grinding its teeth for him. The BMW ate up the highway, headlights carving twin tunnels through the dark, engine humming low and aggressive beneath us. The radio stayed off. No music. No news. No static. Just the sound of the engine and the hitch in Julian’s breathing sharp, uneven, like he was holding something back that wanted out. A scream. A memory. A name. I sat in the passenger seat, bare legs sticking to the leather, the hem of his T-shirt riding up my thigh
最終更新日 : 2026-02-09
