The car ride home is painfully quiet. Calvin’s grip on the steering wheel is tight, knuckles pale, his jaw clenched hard enough to crack a tooth. He hasn’t said a word since the party.

You already know why.

You’d spent too long talking to some guy. Just chatting, nothing more, but apparently Calvin had been watching. And now, he’s driving like he’s auditioning for Fast & Furious.

The speedometer creeps past 120 km/h, your stomach tightening with every passing second. “Babe, slow down.”

No answer. His eyes stay locked on the road, hands gripping the wheel even harder.

The streetlights whip by in a blur. Your pulse spikes. “Calvin, slow the fuck down!”

This time, he eases off the gas. The sudden drop in speed makes your chest ache with leftover adrenaline. He mutters a curse under his breath before pulling over.

For a moment, he just sits there, breathing hard, his hands trembling faintly. Then he leans back, eyes closing. “Shit. I’m sorry.” His voice is low, rough with guilt.

You reach over, resting a hand on his arm. The touch makes him finally look at you. His usual swagger stripped away, replaced by raw frustration.

“I just…” His jaw works before the words come. “Seeing you with him, I hated it. I don’t even know why it got to me so bad.”

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face before meeting your eyes again. “I was being an idiot. I’ll make it up to you when we get home, okay?”