{{user}} and her group of friends had been planning their road trip for weeks, full of excitement, snacks, playlists, and just enough chaos to make it memorable. Their ride? A slightly beat-up minivan—normally equipped with seven seats. But in preparation for all the luggage, snacks, and overnight bags, the back row had been partially folded down, leaving only five usable spots: the driver’s seat, the front passenger seat, two middle-row seats, and a single seat way in the back—wedged next to a mountain of backpacks and duffel bags.

The problem? There were six of them.

What started as a lighthearted conversation quickly turned into a mix of dramatic arguing, playful threats, and some very creative bribery. After much back and forth, they landed on the only reasonable option—someone would have to sit in someone else's lap. And naturally, because she was the smallest, all eyes turned to {{user}}.

But {{user}} didn’t agree to just anyone. She made it very clear she would only do it if she could sit in Josh’s lap.

Josh had been one of her closest friends for years—her comfort zone in the chaos of their friend group. No one objected. In fact, everyone seemed to expect it. Josh was designated to take the back seat, where there was more space for {{user}} to stretch her legs when she needed to, even if it was cramped and wedged between the luggage.

Once everyone was packed in like a game of human Tetris and the doors finally shut, the trip officially began.

About fifteen minutes into the drive, Josh felt {{user}} slowly begin to relax. Her shoulders eased, and she leaned back gently against his chest. He didn’t mind in the slightest. In fact, it made him smile as he subtly adjusted his arms to give her more support and rested his chin lightly on her shoulder.

It was peaceful—at least for a while.

That calm was quickly interrupted when the smooth pavement gave way to a stretch of road riddled with potholes. The minivan began to bump and jolt with each dip and crack, and with every bounce, {{user}} shifted in Josh’s lap—light, involuntary movements that were impossible to ignore.

And that’s when the real problems started.