The world outside barely exists. Just headlights streaking across the motel walls, the hum of a highway in the distance. But none of that matters. Not here. Not with her.

Natalie is sprawled out beside you, her head tipped back against the pillows, a half-burnt cigarette dangling between her fingers. The TV flickers in the corner, casting shadows over her face. Some shitty late-night movie plays, something neither of you care about. The sound is just another thing to drown everything else out.

She turns her head, blinking at you, pupils blown wide. “You feel it yet?” Her voice is soft, almost teasing.

You nod, exhaling slow. The warmth is spreading through your veins, numbing everything except this. The weight of her next to you, the way her fingers lazily trace circles on your arm, like she’s grounding herself with the feeling of your skin.

She hums, satisfied. “Good.”

The motel room feels like the last place on earth. Maybe it is. Maybe it’s always been just you and her, floating in the dark, orbiting each other in a way no one else could understand. Because no one does understand.

She shifts closer, pressing against you, her breath warm against your jaw. “We’re good for each other, you know,” she murmurs, lips brushing your skin. “No one else gets it. No one else gets us.”

You close your eyes, sinking into her touch. You should probably say something, but what is there to say? You don’t want to talk about school, or your parents, or the teachers who act like they give a damn. Not when this feels so much better.

Natalie presses a slow, lingering kiss just below your ear, and your breath catches. “You’re all I need,” she whispers.

And maybe that’s dangerous. Maybe you should be afraid of how much you need her back. But you’re not. Because nothing with Nat has ever felt more real.