A NOT SO QUIET DRIVE

The air is cold and crisp, snapping at my skin, raising goosebumps along my arms. My hair whips across my face, catching in my mouth as I try to push it away. Streetlights flash past in quick intervals, each one giving me a second of clarity before the dark swallows us again. The light glints off my dress, off the shimmer I spent too long blending onto eyelids.

“Told you this would be fun,” Jace shouts, glancing over. His eyes catch the light, bright and reckless.

I laugh, louder than I need to. “It is. But maybe… just a little slower?”

He scoffs. “Don’t be a bore. Don’t you trust me?”

The words hit like a challenge. For a second, I consider pushing back, but something sharper rises instead. I straighten in my seat. “Relax,” I say. “I’m not scared.”

His grin widens, and the car surges forward. The speed presses me into the seat, wind tearing at me, and instead of shrinking from it, I lean into it. I roll the window down further, let the cold air flood in until it burns.

There. That’s better.

The party is louder than the car, somehow. Bodies packed too close, music vibrating through the floor, heat replacing the cold. Jace hands me a drink, and I take it without asking what it is.

“You good?” he asks, leaning in.

I take a sip, then another. “I’m great,” and I am. Or at least, I can be.

I pull him toward the center of the room, not waiting for him to lead this time. If there’s a rhythm, I’ll match it.

He laughs. “Okay, I see you.”

“Yeah?” I flash a smile. “Keep up.” For a while, it works.. Every look, every word, it’s like catching something midair and tossing it back perfectly. Effortless. Controlled. But never enough to hold onto.

Later, when Jace gets pulled into a conversation across the room, I don’t follow, or hover Instead, I turn. Someone else is watching me. He’s tall, unfamiliar, leaning against the wall like he’s been there all night. He smiles when our eyes meet. I smile back.

His name is Ryan. He tells me that twice, like it matters.

“You’ve got energy,” he says, handing me another drink.

“Is that a good thing?” I ask.

“Depends what you do with it.”

I step closer. “Guess you’ll find out.”

It’s easy. Too easy. The conversation, the laughter, the way his attention locks onto me like I’ve done something to earn it. Across the room, I catch a glimpse of Jace. He’s still talking, but now he’s looking over, noticing. I don’t look back again.

By the time we’re outside, the air feels even colder than before, but I barely notice.

Ryan’s car is parked crooked near the curb. He tosses me his keys like it’s nothing.

“You drive?” he asks.

I catch them without thinking.

There’s a pause, small, almost unnoticeable. A moment where I could hand them back, laugh it off.

Instead, I open the driver’s door.

“Get in,” I say.

He hesitates, then grins. “Alright.”

The engine roars to life under my hands, louder than I expect. Then I press the gas. The car lurches forward. The road stretches out ahead, empty and dark.

“Okay,” Ryan says, laughing a little. “Didn’t take you for this type.”

“What type?” I ask, not slowing down.

“The kind that doesn’t hesitate.”

I tighten my grip on the wheel. “Maybe you don’t know me that well.”

The speed climbs. The wind howls through the open window, louder than before, louder than anything. For once, there’s no space to think. No room for second-guessing or adjusting or measuring.

Just motion.

Just noise.

Just this.

Ryan says something else, but I don’t catch it. I don’t need to. The streetlights blur into streaks, just like before, but this time, I’m the one controlling how fast they pass. I push the car harder. My heart pounds, If I keep moving, I don’t have to feel anything else. If I go fast enough, I don’t have to wonder why any of it matters.

“Hey— ” Ryan’s voice cuts through now, a little less amused. “Maybe slow down?”

The words hang there.

Don’t be a bore.
Don’t you trust me?

I almost laugh. My foot presses down harder. “You said you liked energy,” I shoot back.

“I do,” he says, gripping the side of the door now. “Just… not dying.”

The car swerves slightly as I take a turn too fast. Tires screech, the sound sharp and sudden. I catch my reflection in the rearview mirror, eyes too wide, smile stretched too thin.

Not effortless.

Not controlled.

Not convincing.

The car straightens out, but my chest doesn’t. The car slows, gradually at first, then more steadily. The wind softens, the noise fading into something manageable.

Ryan exhales, tension slipping from his shoulders. “Yeah… that’s good.”

I don’t answer. We roll to a stop at the next light. Red. For the first time all night, everything is still. My hands rest on the steering wheel, steady now. The engine hums beneath them, waiting. I glance at Ryan, then back at the road. Then, quietly, I reach over and take the keys out of the ignition.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I’m done driving,” I say.

I step out of the car before he can respond, the cold air hitting me all over again. This time, I don’t fight it. I don’t try to outrun it. I just stand there, breathing. The night is still loud somewhere in the distance, music, voices, everything continuing without me. For once, I don’t feel the need to chase it. Ryan calls my name, confused, but I don’t turn back right away. Instead, I look down the road, the same one that, minutes ago, felt like something I had to conquer, outrun, prove myself on.

Now it just looks like a road.

I walk the rest of the way home.

Kaylahni Russell has lived all over the U.S. When she isn’t writing, you can find her participating in the arts, whether that be singing or dancing or painting. She can also be found cuddling with her Frenchie, Nori, and cat, Sterling.