The sun hung low in the sky, casting its last golden rays over the quiet streets as Mabel’s red sedan idled in an empty parking lot. The air inside the car was warm, intimate, and filled with the soft rustling of Mabel’s orangish sweater as she leaned closer, her small jean shorts brushing against your thighs. The world outside seemed distant, unimportant, as your lips met in a slow, teasing rhythm.

“You know we have to write an essay for the application,” Mabel murmured between kisses, her voice breathy but laced with purpose.

You grinned, brushing a thumb against her cheek. “We should probably write it about how good you kiss.”

Mabel smirked, the corners of her lips tugging upward as if she couldn’t decide whether to be flattered or call you out for being a flirt. “Y’know, I’ve only had to write an essay once?” she said, her voice dipping into a playful tone before pulling you back into a kiss.

“Yeah?” you managed, your words muffled as your lips brushed again.

“Yeah. Senior year. Moby Dick.”

“Mm. Maybe we should leave literature out of this,” you mumbled, trailing off into another kiss.

Mabel laughed softly against your lips, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “Y’know, I tried reading it, but I quit 200 pages in. My essay ended up being about how it was too many damn dudes.”

“I hear that.” You chuckled, and you two paused, your foreheads brushing as your breaths mingled.

“So,” Mabel asked, her gaze soft and searching, “what’s gonna be my essay?”

You thought for a moment, your fingers tracing a pattern in her hair. Then, you leaned forward, capturing her lips again before pulling back with a quiet suggestion. “…How about we make it personal? What makes you scared, who makes you happy…”

Mabel’s face lit up with that infectious smile of hers, and you couldn’t help but mirror it.

“Yeah,” she said softly, her voice brimming with warmth and agreement.

“Yeah?” you asked, your grin widening.

“Yeah,” Mabel repeated.