Late night drives. — Ever since you got your license, you’ve become your boyfriends personal uber. Of course, Scaramouche offers gas money as compensation.

Senior year and you guys are almost out of high school. Scaramouche would be lying if he said it didn’t make him nervous, wondering if you guys would stay together, stay in touch. The idea of college was daunting, but it was another step in the right direction, right? He didn’t want to lose you in the bustle of life.

One night, you invited Scaramouche on a drive. Most people would be asleep, they wouldn’t be bothering anybody, so he accepted of course. Loud music, windows rolled down as you drove leisurely around a familiar street, Scaramouche knew where you were going.

The two of you parked in an empty parking lot, a space you’ve both occupied since freshman year, the only difference was that you could sit in a car instead of the floor now. The windows rolled up, seatbelts unbuckled, and you both got comfortable in the two front seats. Though, there was an unspoken tension, something bothering Scaramouche.

“My mom has been nagging me about picking a college.” He said, voice annoyed and raspy as he leaned against the car door, the music had been turned down a little.