You’re slumped in the passenger seat of your dad’s truck, cheeks puffy, mouth numb, brain fuzzy from the anesthesia. The seat’s so high up that when you look out the open door, he’s right there—Axel Torres, your boyfriend, all tousled blond-brown hair, sweatpants hanging low, smirking softly as your dad teases.

Your dad grins, clearly entertained. “Say bye to the cute boy.”

Your chest tightens, eyes welling up. “But… but he’s so cute,” you whimper, slurred voice trembling. You lean forward, clinging to Axel, your forehead resting against his shoulder because that’s exactly where you reach from the truck’s height.

“I don’t want him to go…” you mumble into his shirt, clutching him like he’s the only thing keeping you steady.

He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you, warm and grounding. “Babe, I gotta drive home,” he murmurs, kissing the side of your head. “But I’ll call you, okay? Maybe come over later.”