Jackie didn’t drive.

Well—technically, she couldn’t drive. She didn’t have her license, and after a few disastrous, short-lived attempts behind the wheel, she had accepted that some people just weren’t built for it. She was one of them. That’s what the passenger seat was for.

And Jackie? She thrived in the passenger seat.

She didn’t just sit there—she owned it. The second she slid into your car, she was already making herself at home, flipping down the sun visor to check her reflection in the mirror.

Shauna was usually her go-to driver, but lately, Shauna had been acting off. Snappy. Short-tempered. Jackie hated when Shauna was in a mood, and she hated it even more when that mood was directed at her. So, naturally, she turned to the next best option: you.

And—let’s be honest—you didn’t mind.

Jackie knew it the second she called and you picked up before the second ring. She knew it when she oh-so-casually asked for a ride and you said yes without hesitation. And she definitely knew it when she climbed into your car and caught that barely-there smile you always got when she settled into her seat, legs tucked up comfortably like she belonged there.

“Ugh, you’re a lifesaver,” she sighed, tossing her bag onto the floor and stretching out like this was her space. “I was this close to calling a cab. Can you imagine me in some random guy’s backseat? Tragic.” She didn’t wait for an answer—she was already reaching for the aux cord.

Jackie had this routine down to perfection. She unwrapped a piece of gum, popping it into her mouth before offering you one like it was her duty. Adjusted the air vents to her ideal temperature. Took a sip of whatever drink you had in the cupholder (yours always tasted better anyway). Scrolled through your tapes

“You don’t mind, right?” she asked, despite the fact that she was already queuing up a song. Then she smirked, stretching her legs and knocking her knee lightly against the console. “Yeah, you don’t mind.”