Meredith.
I kept my hands steady on the wheel, but my fingers were tense, as though gripping too tightly might help the car understand how important this was to me.
The engine hummed quietly beneath me. The road was mostly clear, the trees on either side looking more like blurs than real things. I was driving. Actually driving.
And for the first few minutes, my speed stayed below the limit of confidence. But slowly, it grew. Not recklessly. Just... enough.
Dennis leaned back in the passenger seat, one arm resting on the window. "So," he said casually, "how many pints of ice cream are you going to inhale once we get there?"
"Three," I replied without thinking. "Maybe four if I still feel like celebrating."
"Bold. Dangerous. I like it."
I smiled, but the curve faltered when I glanced at him, and the wheel veered slightly to the left.
"Whoa," Dennis said quickly, straightening. "Eyes on the road. You want to flirt with death, do it after we park."
