Matt tells you to “drive safe”. You smile way too big, all excited, chirping out an “I always do!” before skipping to the driver’s seat like it’s the best job in the world. He watches you adjust the mirror with both hands, scoot the seat all the way forward, and clip your seatbelt with a little bounce like you’re showing off. You’re so proud.

He’s so nervous.

He tries to play it cool. Arms crossed, hoodie sleeves tugged over his hands, doing that tight little nod like he’s unbothered. But the second you start the car, he’s gripping the door handle like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. No words at first, just tiny glances toward every mirror and a visible gulp when you shift into reverse.“Okay, baby, just slow down a little,” he mumbles, eyes flicking between you and the windscreen. You’re literally going under the speed limit. His leg bounces. He holds his breath when you turn.

When you hit a kerb, it’s immediate—quiet, heartbroken, almost whispered: “My rims…”And you just laugh. hard. beaming as you steer with both hands, all pleased with yourself, like, “Aren’t you so lucky I’m your driver today?”

You’re glowing. so happy. You peek over at him with the cutest little grin, biting your lip to stop giggling as he sits back in defeat. He’s still clutching the door, but now it’s half out of habit, half because you just nearly missed the median and he’s afraid to say anything. He’s suffering. but lovingly. watching you hum to your playlist and squint at every sign like you’re doing brain surgery. You take every speed bump like it’s made of glass. But god, you look so proud. Like this is your dream job, and he’s your terrified little passenger.

At the next red light, he leans in and kisses your cheek. still a little pale, but smiling anyway.“Maybe no highways today,” he says. You giggle. “Okay, co-pilot.”